Sermons

August 23, 2020

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Last week, our Hebrew Scripture reading ended with the dramatic reunion between Joseph and the older brothers who had sold him to some passing traders when he was 17. By that time, Joseph had become an important official in the court of the Pharaoh, as the king of Egypt was called. The Pharaoh wisely decided to listen to Joseph’s advice about how to prepare for the coming natural disaster, and put this 30-year-old foreign expert in charge of storing up a lot of grain during the years of plenty so that the people would not starve during the years of drought.

As you may recall, the brothers were there because the famine had spread to the place they were living in Canaan, and the only place to buy grain for themselves and their livestock was in Egypt. Joseph sends his brothers back to Canaan to fetch their father, Jacob, plus nearly 70 members of his family, and all of their livestock and other possessions. Grateful for Joseph’s help, Pharaoh tells this small tribe to settle in a part of Egypt called Goshen, where the family grows and becomes wealthy. Genesis ends with the death of Joseph at the age of 110, after a life filled with riches, honor, and the gratitude of the Pharaoh.

But time passed, and the next book, which we call Exodus, begins with what one of my seminary professors called the scariest line in the entire Bible: “A new Pharaoh—one who did not know Joseph—came to power in Egypt.”

August 16, 2020

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

I have read the story of Joseph probably a hundred times, but this time something really stood out for me. At the very end of the scripture lesson for this Sunday, after Joseph reveals himself to his brothers and they cry and hug each other the scripture says, “and then he and his brothers talked.”

Now wouldn’t that have been an interesting conversation to have overheard? Imagine all the catching up they would have had to do! Who had gotten married, how many children they all had, Israel’s health, and of course about that little incident when they sold Joseph into slavery.

Joseph was betrayed by his brothers. For most of his life he was in danger, imprisoned and used abominably before he was finally noticed and his gifts recognized. Isolated and alone, Joseph must have had many bitter thoughts against his brothers. In the chapters proceeding our scripture for today, Joseph tests his brothers, putting gold and jewels in their sacks, sending them home to get Benjamin and then trying to keep Benjamin hostage. And then in this chapter something changes and he decides to forgive his brothers. So what changed his heart and mind?  What was it that made him decide to reveal himself to his brothers? What made him decide to be merciful?

August 9, 2020

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

I love the story of Peter walking on water.  I picked this date to preach because I wanted to preach about that story even though I’m in Learners and Teachers Mission Group and our traditional time to preach is during the Recommitment Season when Seekers are asked to examine, and hopefully reconfirm, their commitment to Seekers.  Recommitment Season begins in September and this is the beginning of August, so I ask you to consider me as a sort of a John the Baptist.  Remember how he came ahead of Jesus to pave the way?  You can think of me as coming ahead of Recommitment Season to pave the way for the Recommitment Season sermons.  And I will end this sermon by saying a few inspiring things about recommitment.

August 2, 2020

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

I’m in a season of my spiritual journey where the Spirit seems to speak loudest to me through scriptures that drive me crazy. When it comes to my favorite verses, the Spirit and I sit in companionable silence like an old married couple. It’s stories like today’s Genesis reading – with a human that annoys me and a God who confounds me – where the Spirit seems bent on conversation. The scripture keeps popping up in my head, plaguing me with questions days later until I finally concede and decide to engage. And so, like Jacob, I wrestle.

First: there is the problem of Jacob. There are a lot of imperfect humans in the Bible that I love – if you heard me preach back in April, you know I’m partial to Thomas, but I also love poor, hapless Peter, and Martha and Mary, and so many others  – but Jacob was just not one of them.

July 26, 2020

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

OK- I’m going to be blatantly honest. It would be disingenuous for me to barrel around the fact that I am not feeling very comforted these days. In fact, a more apt description would be disturbed, disquieted, troubled and here’s the hardest admission – frightened by recent events. I’m guessing that I am not alone in this — especially this past week as Corona virus numbers soar, people are teetering near the edge of homelessness if they don’t get housing assistance, a rogue president acting like a dictator is implementing what looks like a militarized police state along with a slowing down the postal delivery system, upon which, of course, mail in ballots will depend. What a week!  It is hard for me to admit whenever I feel powerless, uncertain of what to do and where to apply my energy for some degree of positive change. So I struggled for quite some time to find a pastoral or prophetic message to address this volatile situation. My usual modus operandi for preaching is to offer a words of hope and possibility with the aim of leaving you less discouraged than when I began.

And that confession is an affirmation that I am being trained by this community in the ways of kindom. One of the most potent lessons I am learning is through the example of others, the power of vulnerability.  Being preceded by preachers Amy Moffit and Mary Mahala, I am humbled by their openness and deep sharing of personal experience during their sermons. This is a growing edge for me! So there it is, I have broken my own pattern, inspired by others within this community to begin this sermon admitting my own weakness rather than my accustomed soldiering through.