Recently I read this description of a visit to Scotland by psychologist Andrew Tix. He writes,

Several years ago, my family and I had the opportunity to travel to the Isle of Skye, an island near the coast of northwest Scotland. Because it was dark when we arrived, I didn’t have any sense for the landscape. When I went for a walk the next morning, I was surprised to find myself surrounded by five stunning mountain peaks. There was a thick, Scottish mist in the air that seemed to affect the quality of the light coming from the sunrise. The wind gusted and blew dark, low clouds quickly by me. As I walked, I felt a tinge of fear and stopped. I suddenly became aware that I felt completely overwhelmed by the glory around me. I looked up and saw the moon. At that moment, I realized in a fresh way that the majesty I observed is only a small part of the grandeur of the entire universe.[i]

Andrew Tix is writing about awe. He goes on to share how this single experience of awe changed his life and his outlook on faith. Imagine how the three disciples, Peter, John, and James, were changed by their experience of awe on the mountain with Jesus…

Image: Hochhalter, Cara B.. Transfiguration, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59300 [retrieved January 24, 2025]. Original source: Cara B. Hochhalter.

When I was young my parents had a coffee table book of photographs from, I believe it was, the past 50 years. There was a whole section addressing the social crises of the 1960’s, including the protest movement against the war in Viet Nam. This photograph, by photographer Bernie Boston, was in that book.

As a child I stared at it in wonder. It was terrifying, and also thrilling. It was taken during the 1967 march on the Pentagon, a protest of about 100,000 people. They gathered for a rally at the Lincoln Memorial and then marched across a bridge that spanned the Potomac. When they got there, they were met by the 503rd Airborne Military Police Battalion. The young man is placing a carnation in the barrel of an M-14 rifle. All I could think looking at the photo—which I did, again, and again—was, What happened next?

The title of the photo is “Flower Power,” and it ran in the next edition of the Washington Star, a paper that no longer exists. It’s named for a movement started by Beat Generation poet Alan Ginsburg who, “in his November 1965 essay How to Make a March/Spectacle, promoted the use of ‘masses of flowers’ to hand to policemen, press, politicians and spectators to fight violence with peace…”

Image: “Flower Power” by Bernie Boston, Fair Use (Non-Profit)

This week the wealthiest man in the world tweeted a photo of an attractive blonde woman smiling broadly, along with the caption:

“Watching [the administration] slash Federal programs, knowing it doesn’t affect you because you’re not a member of the Parasite Class.”

In other words, the woman is not poor. Here, “Parasite Class” is referring to those who are poor, and therefore, who need the assistance provided by Federal programs such as Medicaid and the Child Health Protection Act.

Vilification of the poor is not new. Poverty has a stigma attached to it that helps to perpetuate it across generations. It’s easier to blame people for living in poverty than to do the work of understanding the systems that benefit the haves and penalize the have-nots. People living in poverty tend to have lower self-esteem, struggle to hang onto a sense of dignity and self-worth, and can experience feelings of shame—all of which contribute to the cycle of poverty, as they can cause crises of mental and physical health.

As of 2024, the United States was the ninth wealthiest country in the world, according to our gross domestic product, but our levels of poverty over the past forty years remain basically consistent, making up between 11 and 15 percent of our population. Currently, 37.9 million Americans live in poverty, and roughly half of that number live in deep poverty, meaning they are striving to live on income 50% or more below the poverty line. And poverty isn’t experienced equally across races. In the U.S., while our overall poverty rate stands at about 11%, more than 25% of Black and Hispanic people experience poverty.

And this week, someone who has enormous influence over government programs called these people, these human beings made in God’s image, the Parasite Class.

Today, Jesus has something to say about poverty…

Image: JESUS MAFA. The Sermon on the Mount, Cameroon, painting, 1973, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=48284 [retrieved January 21, 2025]. Original source: http://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr (contact page: https://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr/contact).

…Simon knows the waters of Lake Genessaret, when they are ready to yield a catch and when they are content to leave the fisherman frustrated. He explains the up-all-night situation to Jesus. But he also speaks to him with the respectful title “Master” or “Lord,” depending on your translation. And he says, “If you say so.” I wonder what Simon heard while noodling the oars around that caused him to think, “maybe;” that caused him to let go of knowing better and instead, yield to this interesting preacher who, after all, everyone was talking about.

 If Simon knows nature, it stands to reason that he also knows what is clearly supernatural. So many fish the nets are breaking—such weight that even when a second boat joins the effort, the boats are sinking. How many times in Simon’s many years in and around the boats has this sort of thing happened? Perhaps never…

Image: Koenig, Peter. Draft of Fishes,  20th century painting, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=58852 [retrieved January 21, 2025]. Original source: Peter Winfried (Canisius) Koenig, https://www.pwkoenig.co.uk/.

Paul begins by mentioning some of those spiritual gifts we’ve been talking about—speaking in tongues, uttering prophecy, even faith—and says, if I have an astonishing amount of these gifts, but don’t have the one thing that matters—I am nothing. I have nothing. Love is the one thing that matters.

Then come the words that I believe are the heart of the whole passage:

Love is patient. Love is kind.

Image: P. Raube, Canva

…And so, Paul hit on the remarkable metaphor of the body. Last week he was talking about Spiritual gifts. He was working to persuade the Corinthians that their gifts didn’t make them superior to others in their congregation, because all gifts were from the Holy Spirit. He goes on to say: “For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.” 

All you have to do to understand this metaphor is to remember the last time something really hurt. You broke your toe. You had a screaming headache. You had to have a dental procedure. All these parts of our body are absolutely connected, you know how we can tell? Because when something hurts, we can’t get away from it. I’m not referring to the efficacy of pain relievers, but the reality that pain in one place makes us hurt, period. As Paul says, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it…”

Image: Leonardo da Vinci, Uomo Vitruviano (The Vitruvian Man), ink on paper 1492, Milan, Italy. Public Domain, courtesy of Wikiart.

The first thing you need to know is that church in Corinth was a hot mess. This may come as a shock. The passage we’ll read in two weeks—the one about love—has become the most famous passage in this letter, and for good reason: it is both practical and lyrical, filled with beautiful language and good sense. Out of context, it has been used in countless weddings, because it’s  about love! But the reason Paul wrote it—and everything else in this epistle—is that, the Corinthians were at one another’s throats…

Image: Anonymous. Spirit with Sevenfold Gifts, 19th Century stained glass, St. Mary’s Iffley, Oxford, UK, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55828[retrieved January 17, 2025]. Original source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/paullew/5827717752/.

…And then the one who’s coming shows up, ready to be baptized himself, which, itself is strange and wondrous. In those days, if you baptized someone, they became your follower. But John has already said he isn’t worthy to untie Jesus’ sandals—by which he means, he isn’t worthy to be Jesus’ slave. And yet, here the men stand, face to face, and now the awe is in John’s eyes, as he sees that the one he has been preparing for wants to be baptized by HIM.

And into the water he goes. Some of you in this room were baptized by immersion. I had water sprinkled on me when I was just four weeks old, and I confess to having just a little immersion jealousy, and not only for the reason that I love a swim. It is also because that is how our Lord was baptized, and there is something wild and beautiful in the vulnerability of falling backwards into the water, trusting that you will be caught, and raised up out of the water still breathing…

Image: Lauren Wright Pittman, “Beloved,” Inspired by Luke 3:21-22, Digital painting and collage, A Sanctified Art | @sanctifiedart.

…We don’t know precisely how many of these wise astrologers came to visit Herod. We know that they brought three gifts, but there may have been two magi, or there may have been ten, or even more. They may have been all men, or there may have been women among them; women also participated in the art and science and mystic revelations of the stars.

However many they were, the magi came to Herod for directions. How could they find Jesus? They were asking about the birth of a child whom, in their minds, he surely must have known about. After all, their reading of the newly risen star told them that this child was the King of the Jews.

But Herod did not know. And Herod believed that he was the King of the Jews. And so, he was afraid. One thing I’ve learned about human nature is that fear and anger often go hand in hand. So, when we read in verse 3, that King Herod was frightened “and all Jerusalem with him,” we might have a good idea why that is. When the King is afraid, that fear is bound to spill out onto innocent bystanders, and it might just look like anger. In this story, that is exactly what happens….

Image: "Journey of the Magi," from an illuminated manuscript, 1120-1145, Church of St. Godehard, Hildesheim, Germany; from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56279 [retrieved December 31, 2024]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Albanipsalter_DreiKoenige.jpg.

…Why does this matter? It matters because the gospel writer wants to make sure we understand the humble nature of the birthplace of Christ.[ii] Hailed as king by angels and, later, by traveling astronomers, he was not born in a palace. He was not born in a mansion. He wasn’t even born in a borrowed bedroom. He was born in a cave that was part of a home. He was taken in by kin. He was taken in, because, even in all the chaos of the city’s population swelling from fewer than 3,000 people to who knows how many, Jesus’s expectant parents were nevertheless surrounded by family, and not relegated to the stable of an inn…

Image: "Angels Worship the Christ Child," detail from a carved retable, Artist Unknown
St. Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh, United Kingdom.
Courtesy of Art in the Christian Tradition, Vanderbilt University

…Every word in the Bible exists in at least three timelines. Let’s take the gospels. The first timeline is the one in which Jesus is walking the earth. Well, for a while, he’s being carried around, since he does come as a baby. But you understand me. The second timeline, and one just as important to the story, is the timeline in which the gospel is being written down—when the oral tradition is set down upon the page so that it can be shared more and more widely. The events of that timeline inevitably find their way into the telling of the story. And the third timeline, of course, is our timeline—more specifically the timeline of the readers and hearers of the gospel. What is happening in our world. We can’t hear the gospel without applying its insights, events, and promises to the world we are living in, right now. For instance, for clarity’s sake, please know that, in a sermon, if I am using the word “Israel,” I’m referring to covenant people descended from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and not to the modern-day political entity, the state of Israel, unless I say so, specifically.

These three timelines are so present for us in the songs we are hearing today. The first two chapters of the gospel according to Luke are filled with music. Today we are tuning in to two of the four songs that appear there, the two songs we find in Luke, chapter 1…

Image: “Magnificat” by Ben Wildflower. Used by Permission, per benwildflower.com.

I believe that is the God John encountered. Immersed in scripture from the time he was young, immersed in a wild and challenging terrain as his home, and trained for his calling to be a holy and wise person in society, John let God in. John was from a reasonably comfortable background and likely never knew hunger or want or neglect as the cherished late-in-life child he was. John had the ability, the space within, to open himself, not only to God, but to the world as it was, in all its beauty and all its pain. John allowed himself to be amazed by all of it.

Today we live in a world in which the Hubble telescope can show us images that are billions of light years away. We live in a world in which each of us can log onto a website on and be in touch with as many people as we like, old friends and new, watch their videos, see their pictures from the other side of the planet. We live in a world in which we can carry powerful computers with access to seemingly limitless information in our pockets, and, oh, by the way, we can call and order pizza with them, too. Is there anything left that can amaze us? Can we still be amazed?

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

It was when those words left my lips that I finally felt it—really felt it, in my heart, in my gut: Fear.

The angel had said, “Be not afraid,” And I wasn’t afraid, the whole time he spoke to me. But then, he’d vanished. And once again, I was alone in the garden. I was still clutching a bouquet of radishes in my hand.

I looked around, wild with shock. What had just happened? What had just happened?

Image: Two Mothers by Nicolette Peñaranda. Inspired by Luke 1:24-45. Acrylic, ink, and mixed media collage on canvas. Copyright A Sanctified Art | sanctifiedart.org

Welcome to the first Sunday in Advent. Advent means coming. It is a season that is oriented towards both past and future, as we are awaiting the great festival celebrating Christ’s birth a little over 2000 years ago, and also looking ahead to Christ’s return in power and justice, and the fulfillment of all things.

The lectionary readings for today would normally have us focused on that expectation of the future. But this year we are focused on the details of the first coming of Christ, according to the gospel of Luke, and we begin at the beginning…

Image: Annunciation to Zechariah by Lauren Wright Pittman
Acrylic and ink on wood panel; © A Sanctified Art | sanctifiedart.org.

Those of us who grew up in churches are familiar with this idea of God as King. We find that image many times in the psalms, including the psalm we just read together this morning. When I was little—maybe 3rd grade or so?—I vividly remember being asked to draw a picture of God. Like many kids of my era, I envisioned God as an old white man with a white beard, wearing a crown on his head, seated on a throne. That’s what I drew. Then I drew a picture of Jesus next to God. Jesus was also white, but had long dark hair and a dark beard and was wearing a white robe. But he was standing, not sitting on a throne, and he wasn’t wearing a crown. We might ask how this happened. Where did Jesus get his crown?

Image: Ge, N. N. (Nikolaĭ Nikolaevich), 1831-1894. "What is truth?" Christ and Pilate, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55296 [retrieved September 26, 2024]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:What_is_truth.jpg.

The church year is coming to an end, and that means Jesus is talking about the end. A lot. The end of each church year has Jesus in a different mode, if you will. That’s because Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem, he knows that his mission on earth is nearly over, and he speaks to his disciples with a sense of urgency. He’s not on his death bed—not exactly—but he knows that death is coming for him soon. He is contemplating the end of his earthly life, so he has things to tell his followers before his chance to tell them is gone. Some of these things are difficult to hear…

Image: Bauernfeind, Gustav, (848-1904) The Wailing Wall, Jerusalem. Public Domain. Courtesy of Wikimedia.

This morning is all about giving. We are celebrating six years of serving our community through our food pantry. The food piled on our Communion table is a reminder that we are sharing what God has given us all—from our table we see others whose tables are bare, and we try to help. We are also marking the end of our Stewardship campaign, during which we’ve been attempting to remember what “living like kings” means when Jesus is our role model of a king. And we’ve all just heard what is, probably, the Bible’s most famous story about giving. 

 The passage we’ve just read is so famous that even many non-Christians have heard the story of the Widow’s Mite, as it is traditionally called. That’s m-i-t-e, meaning, something very small, vanishingly small, such as the two copper coins the poor widow dropped into the Temple treasury, evidently, the last resources she had in the world…

Image: Tissot, James, 1836-1902. Widow's Mite, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56665 [retrieved September 26, 2024]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Brooklyn_Museum_-_The_Widow%27s_Mite_(Le_denier_de_la_veuve)_-_James_Tissot.jpg.

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A. That I am not my own,

but belong—

body and soul,

in life and in death—

to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,

and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.

He also watches over me in such a way

that not a hair can fall from my head

without the will of my Father in heaven;

in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him,

Christ, by his Holy Spirit,

assures me of eternal life

and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready

from now on to live for him.

Image: Swanson, John August. Take Away the Stone, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=58578 [retrieved September 26, 2024]. Original source: Estate of John August Swanson, https://www.johnaugustswanson.com/.

Recently, I was offering to place a member of our congregation on the prayer list. They declined, saying, “Everyone in the world belongs on the prayer list.” And, you know, I get that logic. Each of us has our pain, or our pains. Each of us has a story that sometimes lifts us up with joyful remembrance and sometimes takes us down a rabbit hole of regret or hurt or self-recrimination. Every person in Gaza belongs on our prayer list, as does every person in Israel, and Iran, and Lebanon. Every person in Endicott and Endwell and the Town of Union, everyone in Broome and Tioga counties. 

Hurt, fear, injury and illness are everywhere. Another election is coming up in which both sides are sure the success of the other side will mean the world is ending. We lose people we love and wonder how we will survive. Everyone in the world belongs on the prayer list…

Image: JESUS MAFA. Jesus cures the man born blind, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=48383 [retrieved September 26, 2024]. Original source: http://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr (contact page: https://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr/contact).

...This is a passage that has caused no end of consternation among readers and hearers, ever since the words recorded here left Jesus’ mouth. Jesus is making an impossible ask: that we should sell all our possessions, and give the proceeds to the poor, so that we can follow him. How do we do that? I’m here to tell you that preachers over these last nearly two thousand years have done backbends trying to make this passage better, make it easier, make it doable. Or at least, make it so that we can all have some hope that we can be faithful followers of Jesus ourselves. Other sermons have enumerated in detail the many ways this was done—everything from the entirely fictional “Eye of the Needle” gate in the Temple wall, to casting aspersions on this young man as insincere, to the Hail Mary pass of “For God all things are possible.”

I propose to address this passage by looking at seventeen words, or, more specifically, three words and four phrases we find here. I think these words can lead us somewhere useful. I think these words can lead us to hope...

Image: Wesley, Frank, 1923-2002. Meeting with the Rich Young Ruler, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59188 [retrieved September 26, 2024]. Original source: Estate of Frank Wesley, http://www.frankwesleyart.com/main_page.htm.