Sermon for Sunday, October 11

Matthew 22:1-14

Around 30 of the common era, families of ancient Israel practiced the daily and weekly, ordinary and mundane hand washings and boundaries, sacrifices and sabbath-keeping as well as the holidays and festivals of ancient Judaism.  Some of these families hear of a rabbi-prophet-radical from Galilee named Jesus, one of their own, a Jewish man of similarly humble origins—but wise and inspired.  They begin to follow him, to listen to him.  They are healed by him, fed by him.  In response to his teaching, they turn the other cheek, love their enemies, pray for those who persecute them.  Jesus receives them into a new way, even though they probably continue their lifelong religious practice.  When Jesus is killed, they hear he is raised from the dead, and they continue to practice what he preached, to tell his stories to their children.  They live with hope that the kingdom of God will come in the way Jesus described.  They are Jewish, yet they follow the teachings of Jesus.  Now, their religious practice is not so clear, and their identity is even murkier.  Do they keep the Sabbath the way they always did?  Do they wash their hands ritually?  Do they practice sacrifice in the temple?  What is their relationship with Jewish folks who continue to practice just as they always have and choose not to follow the way of Jesus?  These now Jewish-Christian families form congregations, churches that meet in secret because their religion is not sanctioned by the Roman Empire.  Instead of worshiping the emperor as the son of God, they worship Jesus as the son of God.  And of course, the Roman military occupies Israel.  A generation passes away and another rises up, still with these questions about identity and relationship with other Jews.  In 70 of the common era, the Roman military destroys the temple in Jerusalem, destroys the center of Jewish religious life, destroys hope and further confuses a people who follow Jesus and also follow Jewish religious teachings and practices.  10 to 20 years later, the gospel of Matthew is written—for these Jewish Christians. 

For whom the gospel of Matthew is written makes a difference in the content.  Just as medical journals are written for medical professionals, children’s books for children, and an email from your mother written to you, the gospel of Matthew was written for a particular group of people, namely Jewish-Christians.  Proportionally, the number of Christians in the first century who came from Jewish backgrounds was quite a small number.  The gospels of Mark, Luke, and John were written for the majority of first century Christians who were of Gentile background.  But Matthew was written for Jewish Christians.  We can tell by the preponderance of Old Testament quotes, by the importance of Joseph’s role in Jesus’ birth, by the absence of stories where Jesus encounters a Gentile person—with one lonely exception.

In today’s parable, Jesus tells an odd story, a story full of violence about a king whose wedding guests fail to appear, except for some guests who show up only to mistreat and murder the king’s slaves.  Dishonored by their absence and by their killing of his slaves, the king sends his army to kill the absent guests and sends his remaining slaves into the streets to invite anyone they meet, both “good” and “bad,” to the wedding banquet.  When the king notices one particular guest not wearing the provided wedding robe, he questions the guest and then sends him into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. 

Why is there so much violence in this parable, and what is the good news?  The question of the day is: What good news do you hear in this parable?  Refer to the Facebook live stream feed to read the community reflections.

The only way I can make sense of today’s parable is by remembering the particular historical situation in which this story was told and retold and then finally written down.  

In today’s parable, the people the king invited to his wedding banquet dishonor him by not showing up, and the friend who fails to wear the wedding robe ignores the details of the invitation.  For people who are grateful to be invited, for the good and bad who stream into the king’s wedding banquet, properly robed, those who deigned to show up and refused the wedding robe are a curiosity, both because they dishonor a powerful king and because the banquet is total gift.  Why would someone say “thanks but no thanks” to an extravagant wedding banquet?

I wonder if this parable includes so much violence simply because violence was the order of the day, a stew from which first century Christians, especially Jewish Christians, could not escape, a force that shaped their lives.  I wonder if the first Jewish-Christian storytellers who passed on this story from their generation to the next saw in Jesus’ parable an indictment of those faithful Jewish people who chose not to follow Jesus, in particular the Judean leaders who, from the perspective of a common person, should have been the first to follow Jesus.  I wonder if the Jewish-Christian community who first heard this parable saw the friend without a wedding robe as a person who wouldn’t give up their possessions and follow Jesus, a person who wasn’t willing to go the distance with their discipleship.  And I wonder if they heard truly good news for them in a God who didn’t just invite the powerful and the mighty to an extravagant wedding banquet but instead searched the streets and avenues for both the good and bad, who received anyone who showed up and wanted to follow Jesus.   

Maybe the good news of this parable is slim pickings to us.  With the violence of this parable, God doesn’t appear all that gracious.  But the parable does tell us the kingdom of God is like a wedding banquet where, whether you’re good or bad, you’re accepted.  As long as you show up.  As long as you’re there because you want to be there, you want to follow.  There’s no need to prove yourself worthy.  There’s no background check.  There’s no credit report.  There’s no entrance exam.  If you show up, you’re in.  You’re loved.  You’re accepted.  You are guests of the king at a wedding banquet that can’t be beat.  Thanks be to God!  Amen. 

The GLOW Show: Raising Funds for & Awareness of Hunger

Christians around the country annually raise funds for and awareness of local and global hunger through the CROPWalk. Sponsored by Church World Service, the CROPWalk raises funds for Church World Service’s international hunger relief efforts as well as a local designated non-profit that addresses hunger. Grace has participated in the CROPWalk for several years, and this year, all are welcomed and encouraged to participate in our first-ever virtual CROPWalk. To register and to invite online donations, go to crophungerwalk.org/phoenixaz. Walkers are encouraged to walk 1-3 miles on Sunday, November 1 starting at 2:00 pm, the time the CROPWalk would have begun if we were in person. However, you may walk whenever is convenient for you.

On The GLOW Show today, we hear from the president of the board of the HART Pantry, this year’s local designee to receive 25% of the funds raised through the walk. We are grateful for the ministry of the HART Pantry which helps end hunger among high school students in the Phoenix area! Enjoy!

Sermon for Sunday, October 4

Matthew 21:33-46

An inside joke of mainline preachers is referring to the agony of Year A of the lectionary.  The lectionary, followed by many mainline Christian communities, is the set of biblical passages we read in worship.  The Revised Common Lectionary is three years long: Year A, Year B, Year C, with one gospel assigned to each year plus a few stories from the gospel of John thrown in.  In Year A, we primarily read the gospel of Matthew, a gospel in which Jesus ends many teachings, parables, and allegories with the weeping and gnashing of teeth, with violence promised, with outer darkness and perplexing exclusion.  When we preachers gather for Bible study each week, we read the Year A gospel passage, and then proclaim: The gospel of our Lord?  And we laugh and sigh and then sit in silence for a while pondering what we will say about Matthew’s Jesus.  At this past week’s Bible study, we preachers literally did this upon reading the allegory of the retaliatory landowner, the violent tenants, and the murdered slaves and son. 

In the allegory, the landowner entrusts his land to farmers, called “tenants.”  At harvest time, the landowner sends slaves to collect the rent in the form of produce.  Instead of handing over the requisite produce, the tenants kill the slaves.  Again, the landowner sends slaves, and again, the tenants kill them.  Finally, the landowner sends his son thinking the tenants will honor him, but they don’t.  They kill the son as well.  Jesus then asks the chief priests and Pharisees who are listening, “When the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?”  They respond: “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.” 

Jesus tells this allegory to the chief priests and Pharisees while sitting in the temple in Jerusalem, a place where they hold power and authority.  Jesus directs the allegory to them, so clearly that Matthew even tells us that the chief priests and Pharisees realize Jesus is speaking of them, tenants who dishonor the owner.  Upon hearing his stinging allegory, the chief priests and Pharisees want to arrest Jesus but don’t for fear of the crowds.  The reason they want to arrest him is that Jesus’ allegory is about religious leadership, about those who hold power in religious institutions, about those who steward the gifts of God—but fail to bear the fruits of the kingdom.

Jesus’ allegory certainly makes me stop and think.  Here I am, one given authority to forgive sin on behalf of God, one given authority to speak God’s word, one given authority to administer the holiest of mysteries in bread and wine.  I am a religious leader, like the chief priests and Pharisees.  And indeed, God has called many of us within the congregation to positions of leadership.  This allegory is for us; it reveals what can go wrong when we forget that we are stewards and not owners, when we forget that any authority or power we exercise was given to us by God—and can be taken back by God.  Jesus’ allegory calls to mind the ways the church at large throughout the ages has contributed to violence and hatred—against people of other religions, against women, against queer folks, against people of color, among others.  I invite you to confess with me the sin of the church: We, the church, have gone our own way and hurt the people of God.  Lord, have mercy. 

Because we have gone our own way, thanks be to God that the church and the mission of God are not ours to control!  Just as the tenants do not own the land they work, we, the people of God, do not control the work of God, the mission of God, the blowing of the Holy Spirit.  The church is God’s.  And when we fail to pray, seek, and follow God’s will as our second biblical guiding principle states, we start to run off the rails.  When we hold too tightly to our rigid ways of thinking and doing, opening ourselves to what God is doing becomes challenging. 

Fourteen years ago, I went to serve a congregation in a small town in Iowa.  Fresh from seminary where our professors taught us the correct ways of doing things and fresh from a family system with many rules and boundaries, I came to the congregation with strong opinions about many things but especially worship.  In that congregation, confirmation students robed up every Sunday to light candles and serve communion, and as part of their duties as acolytes, they joined the procession at the beginning of worship.  At my lowest point of my tight hold on correct worship procedure, I remember telling the senior pastor to instruct the acolyte to process in a certain way.  She either forgot to instruct the confirmation student or instructed her incorrectly…or perhaps the confirmation student just went her own way.  Regardless, horrified, I watched the confirmation student enter the worship space with her torch lit ready to light the altar candles and then walk the wrong way.  A moment after my horror flashed across my face in plain view of the congregation, including the confirmation student, I realized my hold on correct worship procedure was too tight.  Who cares if a teenager in a small Iowa town comes to church, serves as a worship leader, and then walks the wrong way?  That the teenager came to church at all is a definite win, serving as a worship leader just icing on the cake. 

While I learned many things from the senior pastor, my colleague Victoria, this was probably the most important: We do not have to hold onto our beliefs, our opinions, our correct procedures so tightly.  We can hold our faith and the ministry of the church lightly—in order to make space for the Spirit of God to guide us.  As I look back on that Sunday morning procession, I imagine God celebrating the presence of a dearly loved young person in worship, thoroughly unperturbed by a wrong turn at the front of the worship space.  Our tight hold on any belief or opinion or procedure can shut down new possibilities that God presents, new life that God provides, a new way of being church to which God might call us.  It’s God’s church, after all, not ours.  Our beliefs and opinions and procedures aid us, certainly, in doing our very best, but when they impede the work of the Holy Spirit among us, a light hold on them allows us to let go when necessary.

Jesus’ allegory this morning doesn’t contain much good news.  The chief priests and Pharisees exercise a tight hold on their religion, and apparently, it brings them to ruin.  They don’t understand that they are simply stewards of God’s gifts, not owners.  The sneaky good news in this cautionary tale is that, despite whatever we tenants do to thwart the collection of the harvest, whatever we the church do to stop the mission of God, the land, the church is not ours.  This is God’s church, and we are simply stewards—with palms and hearts open.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

The GLOW Show: How We Get Through It with Bob

In our last episode around the theme How We Get Through It, Bob who is new to the Grace community shares a story about a challenging time in his life, how he got through it, and where he saw God in the midst of it. Enjoy!

Outreach @ Grace Lutheran Church

Summer outreach at Grace has been critical to people in the city. With many contributors, Grace is able to remain a hub for resources for those experiencing homelessness and instability during the pandemic.

Partnering with Circle the City, people were able to get free COVID-19 testing at Grace. Beginning in October, Circle the City will be at Grace on Monday mornings to offer medical assistance and referrals to those in need.

“Curbside” Grace Room distribution provides people in our community with clothing and hygiene products every Monday morning from 9:00 am until 10:30 am. The Grace Room is in need of men’s shorts in sizes smaller than sizes 32 and 34. If you can, please help provide these most needed sizes by bringing them to Grace! Calling or emailing ahead to schedule a drop-off time window really helps us prepare for receiving your gifts to Grace. Here is the church office contact info: 602-258-3787 or officemanager@graceinthecity.com.

Last month at Grace, Cloud Covered Streets set up at Grace offering haircuts, showers, and laundry facilities. On the last Monday of the month, they brought a food truck friend with them to share chicken, potato salad, beans and treats with everyone!

Cloud Covered Streets is a non-profit organization that has converted a 22-foot cargo trailer into a four room mobile shower and laundry trailer. Their trailer has two separate rooms in front, each equipped with a full size shower stall. The middle room has two stackable washer/dryer units on one side. The other side has a desk with a wireless laptop where people can get assistance with job applications, resume creation, or even contacting loved ones via email. The back end trailer folds down to make a ramp that leads to a wheelchair accessible shower.

Here are a couple of links reporting on Cloud Covered Streets at Grace Lutheran Church: https://www.azfamily.com/video/mobile-unit-helping-the-homeless-in-phoenix/video_b323d075-5e6b-5972-9d7f-335723112865.html

https://www.fox10phoenix.com/video/852922

Join us for the Phoenix CROPWalk!

Join us for this year's virtual Phoenix CROPWalk!  The very first fundraising walk in the nation, CROPWalks take place in cities and rural areas around the US every year.  Nearly all CROPWalks are ecumenical events that bring together Christians of many traditions—all to raise funds and awareness of local and global hunger. 

This year, 25% of raised funds will go to the HART Pantry in Peoria.  HART stands for Helping At Risk Teens and provides weekend meals for teens who would otherwise struggle with food security while not in school.  For more information, go to hartpantry.org.  The other 75% of funds raised will be used for the hunger relief and clean water ministry of Church World Service, the nationwide organization that sponsors the CROPWalk. 

Particularly because the walk is virtual this year, we encourage you to invite friends and family to join you for the walk and to raise funds for both the HART Pantry and Church World Service's global hunger relief efforts.  While you are welcome to walk at any time, we invite you to walk on Sunday, November 1 at 2:00 pm for 1-3 miles.  A virtual send-off will be made available on the Phoenix CROPWalk Facebook page at 2:00 pm that day.  Imagine all of us walking throughout the Phoenix area on the same day and at the same time to care for our neighbors! 

To register for the walk, go to crophungerwalk.org/phoenixaz and click "Register.”  Once registered, you may invite and accept online donations through the CROPWalk website.  If you have questions about the walk, technical challenges, or recipients of the funds raised, please contact Pastor Sarah at pastorsarah@graceinthecity.com or (602) 318-6876.  If you would like to donate to one of the Grace walkers, you can find their profiles and make your donation at crophungerwalk.org/phoenixaz.

Together, we can help end hunger in our community and around the world.

October Celebrations

During the month of October, we celebrate with members & friends of Grace.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Gene B.

Leslie E.

Evalyn E.

Taylor H.

Tarvies M.

Xavier R.

Dorsette R.

Gustavo M.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

Scott & Susan

Suggested Bible Readings for October

October 4 (Pentecost 18)

First Reading: Isaiah 5:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 80:7-15

Gospel: Matthew 21:33-46

October 11 (Pentecost 19)

First Reading: Isaiah 25:1-9

Psalm: Psalm 4:1-9

Gospel: Matthew 22:1-14

October 18 (Pentecost 20)

First Reading: Isaiah 45:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 96:1-9[10-13]

Gospel: Matthew 22:15-22

October 25 (Reformation Sunday)

First Reading: Jeremiah 31:31-34

Psalm: Psalm 46

Gospel: John 8:31-36

Sermon for Sunday, September 27, 2020

Matthew 21:23-32

Jesus is in the temple in Jerusalem, the center of first century Judean power.  Just the day before, he had driven out of the temple those who were buying and selling animals for sacrifice as well as the moneychangers.   He had followed up this extraordinary event with the healing of people lame and blind, and the next day, while teaching in the temple, the chief priests and elders approach Jesus, saying, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” 

The Chief priests and elders, you understand, have authority in the temple and throughout Jerusalem.  The Romans have put them in place to keep law and order, to collect taxes, to keep the peace.  They are landowners, wealthy, elite, even aristocratic in a time and place where everyone around them lives in poverty without social power.  Yes, the chief priests and elders have a religious vision.  They worship God, but, you understand, they do not represent the people.  When they ask Jesus about his authority, they are asking because they have not given him authority.  And it is their job to keep law and order.  Jesus catches them off guard by asking them a question about John the Baptist, whether the baptism he offered was of human or divine origin.  We get to hear the chief priests’ and elders’ internal conversation—where they calculate their answer, and we see that, at least in this moment, they are not religious leaders.  They are politicians trying to please the crowd.  If they were to say John’s baptism was of divine origin, it would legitimate John and cast doubt on their own religious integrity.  If they were to say John’s baptism was of human origin, the crowd would be angry.  Stuck between a rock and a hard place politically, they answer: “We do not know.” 

If that were not enough critique of the leadership of the chief priests and elders, Jesus follows up his question with a parable about two sons and a father who tells each to go and work in the vineyard.  The first responds that he will not go but eventually changes his mind and goes.  The second says he will go but does not.  Who does the will of the father?  Of course, the first.  Jesus directly tells the chief priests and elders: You are the second son, the one who appears righteous but ultimately does not do the will of God as proclaimed by John the Baptist, that of bearing fruit worthy of repentance. 

We do not need wild imaginations to see how today’s Jesus story connects to our present life.  Today’s story is about authenticity, integrity, and accountability.  Honestly, Jesus is highly critical of the chief priests and elders and, by extension, those among us who calculate the most popular answer instead of answering honestly, critical of those among us who say one thing and do another, critical of those among us who fail to own our mistakes.  Jesus calls into question the authority of those who lack authenticity, integrity, and accountability, regardless of their position in society. 

Lest we be too harsh with the chief priests and elders or those we know who do the same, we must admit our own culpability, our own desire to maintain our power or the status quo, our desire to be popular and well liked over real and honest, our desire to appear blameless. 

Oscar Romero served as Roman Catholic priest in El Salvador in the 1970s.  He worked his way up the hierarchy of the church and eventually, surprisingly, found himself appointed archbishop—but only because he was the boring choice who his superiors trusted would not shake up the church at a time of great political upheaval in El Salvador.  Night after night, political dissidents, those who registered people to vote, those who openly critiqued the ruling government, and finally a priest who ministered compassionately among peasants were disappeared, tortured, and killed by a paramilitary group.  When Romero’s friend, the priest who lived and worked among the peasants, was killed, the event sparked something in Romero.  Of course, he had seen the suffering of the people.  Of course, he had heard the troubling news of disappearances and torture.  Of course, but he had a responsibility to uphold the peace of Christ, the status quo, the place of the church in society.  But now, the death of his friend broke his heart and his ministry open.  The death of his friend released him from complacency and the status quo.  The death of his friend stirred up in him a repentant heart.  And Romero changed his mind about his role and the call of God in his life.  He began to listen to the stories of the people.  He befriended children and sat in people’s tin huts on the edges of landfills.  He called to accountability those responsible for the disappearances and torture and murders.  Each week, he shared a radio address proclaiming hope and the belovedness of each person and a call to non-violence, especially for those who perpetrated murder.  As the story goes, a peasant walking home could hear Romero’s entire radio address as he or she passed the huts of their neighbors, each household having tuned in to listen to their friend and champion the archbishop.  Archbishop Romero changed his mind, turned his back on the status quo, instead of defending his previous behavior, moved forward in God’s call to him even though it looked radically different than the one he had previously embraced.           

Archbishop Romero became a man of authenticity, integrity, and accountability.  It’s not that he was perfect.  He was not.  In fact, I don’t agree with him theologically on many fronts, but he is one of my heroes, a man who was able to stand corrected and then joyously embrace the call of God. 

The question of the day is: Has admitting a mistake ever been a blessing in your life?  How?  Check out the Facebook feed from live stream worship on Sunday, September 27 to learn what people shared.

It is not easy to be a person of authenticity, integrity, and accountability…until you do it.  Every time I set down my defenses and listen with true openness to someone who criticizes me, every time I tell a truth that I know will not be popular, every time I admit that I made a mistake, I am nervous.  I am sometimes filled with shame.  But authenticity, integrity, and accountability release me from the binding of lies, hypocrisy, and constantly defending myself.  I too am far from perfect, but authenticity, integrity, and accountability do not demand perfection.  The very opposite, in fact.  There is a grace, a groundedness, a lightness that follows from admitting who and how we are.  And the truly good news is that when who and how we are is a person who has failed to follow God’s call, not only do we receive the grace of God, we have the freedom to change our minds.  We can say no to God’s call and then change our minds and go into the vineyard after all.  There, we enter not just the vineyard but the kingdom of God.  Thanks be to God!  Amen. 

The GLOW Show: How We Get Through It with Cassie

We continue to hear stories of resilience, of how members of our community got through challenging times in their lives. Our hope is that, by sharing these stories, we might all grow in resilience. Today, we hear from Cassie who is fairly new to the Grace community and are grateful for her openness and wisdom. Enjoy!

Community Building Goal: Connect

In the spirit of our previous Community Building Goal, in October, November, and December, please connect with the Grace community. Continue to connect with at least one person in the Grace community each week, invite the person with whom you connect to our weekly Community Building Coffee on Sundays at 12:30 pm via zoom, and connect with the community at least once through the drive-through & walk-up Holy Communion on Sunday mornings at 9:00-9:30 am.

Our hope is that these brief times of connection would refresh us, strengthen us in spirit, and help us keep on keepin’ on.

Free Flu Vaccine Clinic @ Grace on October 10

Maricopa County Public Health has partnered with agencies throughout the valley to help make sure that everyone who would like a flu shot has access to the vaccination.

Different influenza (flu) vaccines are approved for use in different age groups. In addition, some vaccines are not recommended for certain groups of people. Factors that can determine a person’s suitability for vaccination, or vaccination with a particular vaccine, include a person’s age, health (current and past) and any allergies to flu vaccine or its components. For more information, visit Who Should and Who Should NOT get a Flu Vaccine.

Grace welcomes Circle the City into Hope Hall on Saturday, October 10 to host a flu vaccine clinic. On Saturday, October 10 beginning at 8:00 am until 12:00 pm, people may come to Grace for a Flu Vaccination. This event is available for all ages, is free and requires no medical insurance.

For additional locations and dates that free flu shot vaccination events are taking place in Arizona, please visit the Maricopa County Public Health website here: https://www.maricopa.gov/1873/Influenza-Flu

Sermon from Sunday, September 20

Scripture Passage: Matthew 20:1-16

When I was 11, my family welcomed a new addition to our holiday table.  Helen and her husband moved to our small town after very active lives of service, and her husband promptly died.  They never had children and were members of our church.  So, on that first Thanksgiving after her husband’s death and at every holiday thereafter until her death when I was 15, Helen joined us for turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing.  Elegant and intelligent, kind and generous, Helen always arrived at our house with small gifts for each member of our family.  I remember my dad saying, “Helen is a very special person,” and I remember how pleased my parents were every time she joined us for holidays.  As a young person, I think I missed something, something adults didn’t tell me about Helen, about how she contributed to our community.  I do recall one day when my dad and I went to visit her at her house.  At our church, we were in the midst of installing a beautiful mosaic just inside the main doors, and as I sat at Helen’s kitchen table listening to her and my dad’s conversation, I suddenly realized she was the anonymous person who had gifted it to the church.  As my dad and I drove home, he told me she was responsible for funding a number of important efforts around town, the mosaic just a small, beautiful offering for the church among larger efforts related to our public library, our local schools, and hunger in our community. 

When I consider who taught me to be generous, I think about Helen.

I also think about Kermit and Hazel.  In addition to being members of our church, they were our next door neighbors with tidy flower and vegetable gardens and an impeccable lawn.  Without fail, they purchased my and my sister’s Campfire Girl cookies, snowblowed our driveway, walked over plates of cookies and vases of flowers, and even sometimes mowed our lawn—you know, when they were doing theirs.  One day, my sister and I accidentally locked ourselves out of our house when both our parents were working late, and we knocked on Kermit and Hazel’s door as the sun set.  They appeared delighted to provide shelter for us and fed us snacks. 

When I consider who taught me to be generous, I think about Kermit and Hazel.   Our question of the day is: who taught you to be generous? 

See the Facebook feed from worship for people’s reflections on this question.

Here at Grace, the list is long of generous people, people who quietly go about tasks that need to be done, tasks that benefit the whole community, people who give financially or materially in significant ways, people who use their best skills in service to this community and the community at large, people who help others just because they want to help.

And because we are a generous people, perhaps we hear Jesus’ parable today with open hearts.  For Jesus tells a parable about a generous God.  Jesus begins: The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who hires workers for the day guaranteeing them the usual daily wage.  Later at 9:00, then at noon, then at 3:00, and finally at 5:00, the landowner goes out to recruit more workers promising to pay each of them “whatever is right.”  At the end of the day, the landowner instructs his manager to pay the workers starting with those hired at 5:00.  And the workers hired early in the day grumble because, instead of the manager paying those who worked only one hour a portion of the usual daily wage, the manager pays these workers the full daily wage.  Seeing this, those hired early in the day believe they should be paid more—though they were promised and agreed to the usual daily wage.  When the landowner hears their grumbling, he asks: Are you envious because I am generous? 

Even though we are a generous people, the first thing we might exclaim upon hearing this parable is: It’s not fair!  Right?  Those who work only one hour should not be compensated in the same manner as those who work all day.  As people immersed in a free market society, we declare the actions of the landowner unfair.  But pay equity and labor policies are not the point of the parable.  I do not think Jesus is suggesting we implement such a pay structure in our businesses or even our churches.  Rather, Jesus describes the kingdom of heaven, a realm where promises are kept and the one who may freely give gives generously. 

Maybe two months ago, one among us emailed me a question about generosity and boundaries.  I honestly don’t recall the details, but someone in her family had asked her for money to help make ends meet.  This wasn’t the first time they had asked, and in the past, sharing financial resources had not gone well as it accelerated the rate of asking.  And this dear, generous person who genuinely wanted to help her family but worried—for good reason—that they would take advantage of her, asked for my insight.  As I thought and prayed about how to answer, it occurred to me via the Holy Spirit: true generosity cannot be manipulated.  Because generosity is not a transaction.  Because generosity is not an obligation.  Because generosity can be but does not have to be reciprocal.  Because to give generously means releasing our control over the gift.  There are many other types of financial exchanges, wages paid for work, fees for services, prices for goods, maybe even clearly negotiated and boundaried monetary exchanges between family members.  But Jesus’ parable does not address these free market exchanges.  Instead, Jesus’ parables describes the generosity of God that upends our free market expectations.

Generosity, especially the generosity of God, cannot be manipulated.  We don’t make deals with God, vying for God’s generous provision of employment or housing.  We don’t bargain for forgiveness or healing.  We don’t promise God our allegiance in order to win the lottery.  I mean, we can try, and people of faith, including our own Martin Luther, have bargained with God.  But God doesn’t respond to our attempts at bargaining.  Jesus’ parable describes a God whose generosity flies in the face of logic and market sense.  Indeed, generosity does not make “sense.”  I invited to consider who taught us to be generous, and most likely, those who taught us generosity were people who astounded us, whose motivations we couldn’t figure out, whose benefit from being generous didn’t square with the world.  Of course it didn’t.  Today, Jesus tells us about the kingdom of heaven, a realm mixed up with this temporal realm, a kingdom we glimpse in fits and starts, a realm that surprises us when it shows up in all its humbling glory. 

As a child, I couldn’t figure out why the brilliant, world-traveling Helen spent the last years of her life giving away her considerable wealth to address needs and inequities in the small town of Pelican Rapids, Minnesota.  I couldn’t figure out why our neighbor Kermit would snowblow our driveway and mow our lawn, tedious tasks we never asked him to do.  They weren’t accumulating God’s favor.  They weren’t scoring points with the neighbors or the church.  As life-long people of faith, they knew the generosity of God, and having received the grace of God, they freely extended it to others.  The kingdom of heaven is like a woman who gives for the sake of giving, like a neighbor who helps without being asked.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

The GLOW Show: How We Get Through It with Chase

The GLOW Show continues to explore the theme How We Get Through It with each week’s guest sharing a story about how they grew in resilience and where they saw God at work in a challenging situation. This week, Pastor Chase Brown of Kaleo, a church plant that worships at Grace, shares about his journey through this season of Covid-19. Enjoy!

Reflections on the Life of Cyndy Herrmann

We continue to give thanks to God for Cyndy Herrmann, long-time member of Grace who died in August 2020. 

I first met Cyndy in 1993 when my husband, Nick, and I moved to Phoenix from California! I have been going to Grace since I was in elementary school! Cindy was always interested in people, and she was on so many committees at Grace. She was instrumental in making money for Grace in many ways! I always enjoyed chatting with her at coffee hour— she was very interesting to speak with. She had a knowledge of the history of Grace. We shall miss her. —Bev Zannos

Cyndy was a long time member of our community and always had a smile for everyone. She worked diligently on our financial efforts like our fence in the front yard of our church and our sanctuary organ. She was a real neat person and will be missed. —Judy Baker

Hance Park Conservancy construction updates

The Hance Park Partner Coalition offers a newsletter to spread awareness about the Hance Park Revitalization Project. Here is the link to read the latest newsletter: Hance Park Newsletter.

The Coalition is a public-private partnership consisting of the City of Phoenix Parks and Recreation Department, Phoenix Community Alliance and Hance Park Conservancy.

Additional information about the Hance Park Revitalization Project is available on the project website: Phoenix.gov/Parks/HanceRevitalization

Sermon for Sunday, September 13

Scripture Passage: Matthew 18:21-35

In the first week of my basic preaching class in seminary, our professor assigned us the task of telling a brief story about a time we changed our minds about something.  One by one, we got up in our preaching lab and gave our inaugural test sermons.  I told a story about living in community with someone who regularly threw recyclable glass bottles into the trash.  Because I personally feel caring for Earth is an ethical imperative and recycling is the very least we can do, I was angry at my housemate.  In fact, I was blinded by rage—and by the limited perspective that comes with being 23 years old.  In my story, I emphasized how I changed my mind about this person, how I moved from hating her to, three months later, discovering she had value and that I could enjoy her company.  Even as I stood up and told my story to my preaching lab, I had that niggle at the back of my mind that something wasn’t quite right, but I ignored it.  I sat back down, and as was the effective custom of our preaching professor, I received immediate verbal feedback from both the professor and the other students.  And the first thing Craig, our professor, said was: “You haven’t forgiven her yet, have you?” 

She’s not the only one I haven’t forgiven. 

I and we have many excellent reasons for not forgiving people, for not letting go of our anger and rage.  They harmed me.  Their actions have changed the trajectory of my life.  They harmed the planet.  They perpetrated or perpetuated injustice, on a personal level or a systemic one.  They are not sorry.  They continue to do the very thing for which I do not forgive them.  They broke the law and deserve to be punished.  They exercise deplorable ethics.  They are hypocrites. 

The excellent reasons that justify not forgiving others, not letting go of anger all have to do with the other person, yet forgiveness is not contingent on another person’s action or inaction.  Reconciliation is…contingent upon more than one person’s action, but forgiveness is a one-person job. 

Today, Peter asks Jesus: How often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?  Jesus responds: Not seven times, I tell you, but seventy-seven times.  And then, Jesus goes on to tell a story about a king who forgave an astronomical debt for a slave and how that same slave failed to forgive a much smaller debt of a peer.  There is much to say about forgiveness given Jesus’ words: how score-keeping is problematic in relationships, how not forgiving lets the person who wronged you control you, how living in relationship with a person you’ve forgiven also includes clear boundaries, how ongoing relationships necessitate continuous forgiveness, how we must acknowledge the pain we experience even if we forgive someone.

But what strikes me this morning is the humility of the king in Jesus’ parable.  The kings of Jesus’ day exercised power in a way we in the 21st century no longer see, dictatorial power without checks and balances, without investigative journalism, without an international criminal court.  Yet the king of the parable who could do whatever he wished forgives the astronomical debt of the slave.  The king who has every right to hold over his head the debt of the slave chooses freely not to do so.  The debt is legitimate and enormous, yet the king exercises enough humility to let that debt go unpaid.  Jesus does not tell us why the fictional king of the parable forgives the debt of the slave.  However, the enormous sum of money the slave owes indicates to readers and hearers of this story that the king knows the slave will never be able to repay it.  Ever.  So what good will it do the king if he refuses to forgive it? 

Similarly, our omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient God could freely choose to hold our wrongs, our sins, our flaws over our heads.  We have legitimately hurt our neighbors, perpetrated and perpetuated injustice, broken God’s law.  And of course, we don’t get away with anything with an all-knowing God.  Yet God does not count our sins against us.  God’s forgiveness is an act of humility, a humility most profoundly evidenced in the incarnation: that God God’s very self would come and meet us in the human flesh of Jesus. 

Having been so graciously and humbly forgiven, why do we still struggle to forgive?  Perhaps we have not embraced humility, at least in those troubling relationships.  For when we are bound by our pride and arrogance, no matter what the other person does, it will never make up for what they did to us.  They could full-out confess, change their ways, pay their price, and we, in our pride and arrogance, would still demand more.  To forgive is an allowing, a letting go, a release from our own pride and arrogance. 

The question of the day is: What does humility look like?  Or, in other words, what is an example of humility?  Chad, what does our community say?

See the responses from the community on the Facebook feed from this day.

What humility looks like for me?  I’m disagreeing with someone.  Not a fight, just a disagreement.  There’s a moment when the other person makes a good point, and my first instinct—I don’t know about you—is to deny that their point is valid, insightful, even good enough to change my mind.  My first instinct is to defend my original position, to become defensive, to point out all the ways I am in the right and all the ways the other person is in the wrong, to explain why I thought thus-and-such and why that was such a good reason.  I have had so much practice at being defensive that humility in that moment sometimes seems impossible.  But here’s what humility looks like for me in that moment: I listen to the good point of the person, and I say: Okay.  You’re right.  I take in their point.  I rearrange mentally.  I make space for what they said.  If it’s in an email, I don’t explain why I did what I did; I just respond with how we’ll move forward.  And on we go with our conversation or onto another activity, but my mind is changed.  I feel off-balance for a bit having conceded, but I know a lightness and peace because of my letting go.  I also know, personally, the fear of appearing inadequate or incompetent or unlovable when I back down and concede the person’s good point, but this humble response—of concession when other people are right—is what reveals my, our wisdom and competence, not the other way around.

When we are struggling to forgive, it is as if we are having a disagreement within ourselves.  We are defending our right to be angry and hurt.  When we concede to a greater wisdom and a promise of peace, when we practice the humility of letting go, that is forgiveness. 

As much as we may struggle to forgive, to practice humility, to follow the teaching of Jesus today, for God, such forgiveness is old hand.  The humble king of the parable who forgives a great debt for no reason other than wanting to do so, that is God who forgives all our sin.  For that, we say: Thanks be to God!  Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, September 6

Scripture Passage: Matthew 18:15-20

We’ve all been there.  Our coworker takes personal calls during the workday.  Not just short calls, long calls, and they take long lunches too and come into work late.  Or our coworker makes comments about politics or how they raise their children or problems they have with our shared workplace, comments with which we disagree.  We are required to work with this person.  What do we do?  We decide to discuss these problematic behaviors with our supervisor or other coworkers.  We rail against the views of our coworker with our partner or friends. 

We’ve all been there.  A member of the church or the pastor does something we don’t understand, something that offends us.  We feel confused or hurt or slighted.  What do we do?  We mention the situation to another member of the church.  We ask someone else to talk with the person.

We have definitely all been there.  An institution of which we are a part is at loggerheads with another institution.  Maybe our neighborhood association is angry with a particular city department.  Maybe neighboring businesses have conflict over a property line or property maintenance.  Maybe we are part of an organization upset over a local, state, or federal law.  We talk amongst ourselves, write and share Facebook posts, listen to news commentators who agree with us. 

Conflict is part of living in community, whether that community is as small as our household or as large as the globe.  We are going to hurt one another, do things that don’t make sense to others, and act out our own grief and hurt in inappropriate ways.  Since conflict is inevitable and we don’t get to choose a world or relationships where there is not conflict, our choice lies in how we deal with it.  We can pretend that all is always well and avoid directly speaking with the people we love to the end of our days if we want.  Or we can, following Jesus’ teaching and example, talk with the person in question directly, instead of silently steaming or talking with others—except to get help in making plans for our difficult conversation.

In Jesus’ teaching today, he instructs the disciples to talk directly with the person who hurts them or the community.  Simple.  Direct.  And if the person doesn’t listen, then, they are to bring someone else with them.  And if the person doesn’t listen, they are to take the community with them.  If even then the person doesn’t listen, the person is to be treated as a Gentile and tax collector, one who is loved and welcomed—with boundaries—by Jesus.  Just a note: though Jesus doesn’t address extraordinary circumstances such as domestic violence, I doubt Jesus would encourage those who have been physically injured by another to enter into difficult conversation for Jesus also teaches the disciples and us to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, and boundaries are part of any loving relationship.  An appropriate boundary when someone has physically hurt you is not seeing them in person. 

Jesus’ teaching challenges all of us for, in our culture, especially with people who hurt us or with whom we disagree, we talk more about people than we do with them.  But dear friends in Christ, this doesn’t get the job done.  What is the job exactly, the call we receive in Holy Baptism, the primary thrust of God’s law?  Loving relationships with God and neighbor. 

If we avoid talking with someone who makes our blood boil for reasons they may not even know, when we put off clearing up a miscommunication that might really just be a miscommunication, when we allow someone to hurt our community by not having a difficult conversation directly with them, we miss a chance to build strong, loving relationships. 

We know that Jesus’ teaching is probably more relevant to the US at large today than in any day in the past several decades.  We are a divided nation, divided mostly by our ideological views, views on Covid-19 and wearing masks, views on race and privilege, views on the role of police and protest in our society, views on what makes a good leader in a democracy.  Jesus has something to say about how we enter into conversation with those with whom we disagree for the reality is that we generally don’t…enter into conversation with those with whom we disagree at all.  But today, he instructs us to have conversation instead of keeping to our echo-chambers where our own views bounce off the walls.  On both a deeply personal level and in our public life: How, oh how, do we do this, Jesus?

I would be willing to bet that this teaching of Jesus has transformed my life more than any other in all of scripture…honesty, transparency, accountability, boundaries, these are the hallmarks of loving relationships.  I have been on both sides of these difficult conversations many, many times.  From talking with people about behavior that is unacceptable here at church to listening to family members tell me hard truths about myself.  From bringing up hurtful actions or words with friends to listening to people I supervise tell me how my supervision demeaned them.  From asking questions of a colleague who articulated comments I perceived as racist and sexist to receiving the confused, hurting, or angry questions of members of Grace about things I’ve done or said.  Even hanging in there with ministry groups, community groups, or state legislators where theological or social views were so wildly divergent from my own that we were seemingly speaking different languages as we discussed a larger church or community problem.  There may have been a few instances in these countless conversations where the conversation ended badly, where the direct communication ignited more pain, but at least in my memory, these conversations have been rare and usually the product of me or the other person not listening with an open heart.  It is true that we can only enter into these conversations if we care about the relationship or truly want to solve the problem.  If we don’t, there’s no reason to have conversation.  But in the vast majority of these conversations, all parties walked away wiser, lighter, at peace, relieved, understood, and usually hugged—in non-Covid times, of course.  The relationship strengthened.  

Interestingly, most of us quote verse 20 of today’s reading out of context.  Jesus says: Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them.  We remember these words of Jesus when we are not able to worship together as a whole congregation or when we gather for small group study or fellowship.  But the context for Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them is conflict and the conversations necessary to resolve conflict.  Jesus assures the disciples—and us—today that, when we enter into these difficult conversations, he is with us.  God is with us.  These conversations are genuinely hard, so thanks be to God, we are not alone.  One conversation, of course, does not heal all wounds.  Especially in larger, community-based conversation about the common good and in long-time family trauma, healing and restoration require much more of us, work that goes beyond the scope of Jesus’ teaching in this passage.  But the good news today is that, in the midst of our messy negotiations with one another, God is with us.  Helping us hear each other.  Inspiring us.  Giving us courage to share truthfully and vulnerably.  Moving in ways beyond our understanding.  Truly, where two or three are gathered, there God is among us.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

The GLOW Show: How We Get Through It with Devalyn

Thanks for listening to The GLOW Show! We continue a series entitled How We Get Through It. Each week, a member of Grace is sharing a story about a difficult time in their lives, the practices that aided them, the resilience they developed, and the places they saw God at work.

Click the play button below, and leave us your comments and questions right here on the blog. We’d love to hear from you.

Enjoy!

Thank You from Vicar Beth

We received the following note from Vicar Beth.

People of Grace,

Thank you for the stunning red stole and for sending me off with love and thanksgiving. I look forward to wearing it on the day I am ordained in God’s church and will remember you with joy and gratitude each time I wear it in service to God and God’s people. I continue to hold you in prayer and miss you all dearly! Peace and blessings!

With love and joy,

Vicar Beth