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[This message was delivered at Odgen Presbyterian Church, Spencerport, NY, on the second Sunday of Advent, 12/7/25, based on Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12.]

Is this any way to begin a sermon? “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?” (Matthew 3:7) In the preaching course I have taught at Northeastern Seminary for the last decade, I worked with the students on developing an arresting opening sentence, a sentence that provoked interest. John has an interesting one here: “You brood of vipers.”

I like John, even though he troubles me, and sometimes because he troubles me. Today I am wearing jeans under this robe. They are my best jeans: no holes or fading. How many of you noticed my jeans? John might arrive as your guest preacher in more radical dress:  John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. I chose to wear these jeans as a tip of the hat to John, who never seemed very concerned about what people thought about him. He stands in the great tradition of the prophets of ancient Israel, who spoke truth to power fearlessly and feared no one but God. Here are two instances.

 When Ahab saw Elijah, Ahab said to him, “Is it you, you troubler of Israel?”He answered, “I have not troubled Israel, but you have, and your father’s house, because you have forsaken the commandments of the Lord and followed the Baals (foreign gods).” (1 Kings 18:17-18) Isaiah didn’t much care for niceties. He is speaking truth to power.

Then Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, sent to King Jeroboam of Israel, saying, “Amos has conspired against you in the very center of the house of Israel;” And Amaziah said to Amos, “O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your bread there, and prophesy there,but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it is the king’s sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom.”Then Amos answered Amaziah, “I am no prophet nor a prophet’s son, but I am a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore trees,and the Lord took me from following the flock, and the Lord said to me, ‘Go, prophesy to my people Israel.’ (Amos 7:10-15) And Amos fulfilled his calling, speaking truth to power.

There is an oft repeated sentiment spoken today by church-goers that pastors shouldn’t address politics from the pulpit. That would mean pastors ignore major teachings in the Bible. The prophets of Israel would hear nothing of that, nor would John. There is a difference between partisan political preaching (which I am against) and preaching that includes Biblical concerns about politics (which I am all for).

In our first reading this morning, Isaiah gets into some political preaching:

• “With righteousness he shall judge for the poor and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth” (12:4)
• “They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”  (12:9)
• ^“The nations shall inquire of him.”  (12:10)

There are political implications in each one of those statements.

John serves in that tradition. He is fearless of anyone but God. He speaks truth to power. He fulfills his calling to prepare the way of the Lord. His message called for repentance: “Therefore, bear fruit worthy of repentance.” (Matthew 3:8) Repentance means a change in thinking that leads to a change in doing. John preaches that bloodlines no longer matter: “and do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” (Matthew 3:9) What matters is one’s response to God’s gracious invitation. I need John the Baptist to help me be a more faithful proclaimer of the Good News.

A John the Baptist word is appropriate for today and I will speak it. Somali people are not garbage. Somali-American people are not garbage. The greatest concentration of Somali people in our country is in Minnesota. About 78% of them have become citizens. They hold jobs. They pay taxes. They have families. They participate in the American way of life. They are persons, bearers of the image of God, not garbage. Congresswoman Omar is the first Somali-American to serve in Congress. She is not garbage. When the president recently called her and all Somalis garbage, he was terribly and offensively wrong. He needs to hear the call to repent. Or perhaps he is one of the “brood of vipers.” If so, all the more he needs to repent.

And so do I. Repentance is not a “one and done” matter. Following Jesus is a life-long journey of repenting, of having our thinking change and then our doing change. I am not done repenting. Neither are you.

John’s greatest legacy for pastors is that he points people to Jesus: “I baptize you with water for repentance, but the one who is coming after me is more powerful than I, and I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” (Matthew 3:11) I am a follower of Jesus today not because I figured this out, but because a long line of faithful people pointed me to Jesus. If you are a follower of Jesus, I expect you also can name a line of faithful people that pointed you to Jesus. This is a good day to name some of them. If they are still alive, thank them. If they have gone to glory, thank God for them.

Who have been the John the Baptists in your life?

Gun violence is never out of season in the United States. But some incidents grab the headlines and our attention, at least for a while. Like the recent assassination of political influencer Charlie Kirk. And the shooting that same day at a public school in Colorado. And the more recent killing of four people in a Latter-Day Saints worship service in Grand Blanc, Michigan. Following these more publicized acts of violence, politicians, particularly mayors and governors, and law enforcement officers, will say something like, “This act of violence is unacceptable.” If you are listening at all, you have heard political leaders say that such acts of violence are unacceptable over and over. After the next act of gun violence, they will say it again.

The raw truth is that these horrific acts are entirely acceptable in this nation. We verbally condemn them and then do little to stop them. Oh, many are working to stop them in ways such as tightening and increasing gun-ownership laws, increasing mental health services, and making public buildings more secure. But their efforts in gun control are usually stopped cold by Second Amendment advocates and the pro-gun lobby.

The unvarnished truth is that we accept these all too common and frequent acts of violence as the price for some of our rights. I quote Charlie Kirk: “I think it’s worth the cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the Second Amendment to protect our other God-given rights.” I don’t think my God-given rights have been compromised by not owning guns. Mr. Kirk further said the way to reduce gun violence was simple: Put guns into the hands of more Americans.

Spencer Cox, the governor of Utah, in the immediate wake of the killing of Kirk, was commendable in many ways. In his statements to the press and in an interview on “60 Minutes,” I found him credible and compelling. But one thing he said bothered me. He reminded us that Utah is a death penalty state. Does anyone really think the death penalty deters crime? There is no credible study that shows the death penalty deterring crime. When people commit acts of public violence they often kill themselves after killing others, making themselves the final victims of their violence. Do states that have the death penalty have lower homicide rates than states that don’t use the death penalty? Has any study anywhere shown that the death penalty does anything except execute more lives?

On March 15, 2019, there was an act of mass gun violence in Christchurch, New Zealand, in which 51 people were killed. Such acts are rare in New Zealand. But the government and the people found this act unacceptable. Within two weeks, they passed swift and sweeping reforms of gun laws, a nationwide ban on semi-automatic weapons and assault rifles, and a very successful government buyback program. Their decisive action highlights the continuing lack of action to tackle gun violence in the United States.

In the first nine months of this year, 2025, there have been over 500 acts of mass gun violence (at least four people shot) in the United States. Our government seems to find this acceptable. Even if legislators pompously say that these regular acts of mass gun violence are unacceptable, they do nothing to change the fact that there are more guns in this country than there are people. Does it strike anyone as acceptable for a nation to have more guns than people? If the widespread availability of guns made violence less likely to happen, we would be the safest nation on earth. We are decidedly and tragically not.

The sad truth is that as a nation we are accepting frequent acts of violence as normal and unexceptional. I pray that someday we as a nation will say that this continuing drumbeat of gun violence is unacceptable by acting to make it rare. But until then, the United States finds frequent acts of gun violence acceptable.

[Note: I am posting this on Monday, October 13. Over the weekend there were three acts of gun violence in Mississippi and one in South Carolina. These made the news, if fleetingly. I have no doubt that there were more that went unreported nationally.]

[This message was delivered at Community of the Savior, Rochester, NY, on August 31, 2025, based on Luke 14:1, 7-14. It can also be listened to on the CoS facebook page, but the camera was not working, so it can’t be watched.]

On fall Sundays growing up in Los Angeles, my cousin and I would often leave directly after our church let out, get on a city bus for a dime and go to the Coliseum where the Los Angeles Rams played football. We were ten-twelve year olds, with a few coins on our pockets. Back then, there was an entrance for the cheap seats, farthest from the playing field. The Rams weren’t very good back then (unlike our current Buffalo Bills!), so an adult could buy a ticket for a cheap seat and bring up to five kids in free. Seats weren’t reserved in the east end of the Coliseum; you just found a seat and watched the game from a long ways from the field. Our first task was to identify an adult with one or two kids with him (it was always a man) and ask if we could go in free with him; that was easy. Then began our second task: to find better seats that were unoccupied and make our way to them. It took some skill to get past the ushers without tickets. We became quite good at this, usually walking close to another adult. We sometimes ended up with 50-yard line seats. If the owner of the tickets to those seats came late, we were quick on our feet and always had other empty seats identified, just in case.

It’s a skill I’ve honed over the years, but it is ethically dubious. As an adult, when I would buy tickets for a baseball game, I would buy cheap seats, then begin the game of moving to better seats at about the third inning. Then someone pointed out to me that this activity wasn’t really honest; I had purchased the cheaper seat and I should sit in it. I had just thought of my activity as an extension of the game—and I was good at it. If I saw an empty seat, I thought I could claim it. I believe sanctification is a long journey and I wasn’t very far along then. (And maybe I am not now.)

When I heard that Southwest Airlines had decided to end their open seating plan, I was bummed. I liked the old Southwest way of no assigned seats and no first class. We were all just people grabbing an open seat—and I always tried to get the best seat. And don’t get me going about seating assignments at wedding receptions. Why do I always get assigned to a table in front of a loud speaker where human conversation is impossible?

“On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the Sabbath, they were watching him closely.”

What are they watching for? And who are they to be watching him? Almost certainly they are religious leaders, whether priests, or Pharisees, or Sadducees. Religious leaders back then were both fascinated and frightened by Jesus. He always seemed to be disturbing their carefully ordered world of religious privilege. He didn’t play by their rules. He messed with their understanding of Sabbath. Insofar as religion had become stratified and calcified, he was irreligious if not downright antireligious. And that scares me at times, because people sometimes see me as a religious person, even a religious leader. I don’t like being referred to as a religious person or, especially, a religious leader. I am currently reading a book about the rise of Christian nationalism today, demonstrated in the insurrection at the U. S. Capitol on January 6, 2021. For many of those attacking the Capitol, it was a Christian rally with people singing hymns and praying as they attacked persons and property. It profiles a number of religious leaders in scary ways. I think the most dangerous threat to the health and vitality of the Christian Church today is Christian nationalism and it usually led by religious leaders who know where the best seats are and keep the wrong people from sitting in them.

They are watching Jesus closely as he enters the home of a religious leader for dinner. And he is watching them. What is he seeing? Apparently, they have a system for seating guests. Then places of honor are kept open for the more distinguished guests. We know how that works. When people are perceived as more wealthy, or more physically attractive, or more influential, or more charming, or more celebrated, they tend to get preferential treatment: the best table in the restaurant, the best tee times at the country club, the luxury box at the football game (where Taylor Swift roots for Travis Kelce). Jesus sees how at the dinner hosted by this religious leader, the pecking order is at work. He objects in his customary way, with a simple story from everyday life. He sets it in a wedding reception, where seating assignments can be done in the old pecking order way. Jesus says, “But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place….” That seems counter-intuitive. Who chooses to sit in the lowest place? We naturally want to sit in the better seats, where the action is. I do!

That leads me to some observations about when we gather here. Are we looking to sit with people we know or the ones we don’t know? Do we sit where we know our friends will be? During the passing of the peace, do we share our names and learn some new names? When the service ends, do we rush to those we already know? When I was pastoring, the church I served encouraged people to take the first two minutes after the worship service ended to speak with people we didn’t yet know. I encouraged people not to sit in the same place every Sunday, but to shake it up and sit, at least some of the time, in a different place and meet new friends. It can be daunting to enter a worship space for the first time. Will anyone greet me? Will I know when to stand and when to sit? Will I be welcomed? James addresses this matter in his pithy letter. “If one enters your church wearing an expensive suit, and a street person wearing rags comes in right after that one, and you say to first one, “Sit here; this is the best seat in the house!” and either ignore the street person or say, “Better sit here in the back row,” haven’t you segregated God’s children…?… Isn’t it clear by now that God operates quite differently? God chose the world’s down-and-out as the kingdom’s first citizens, with full rights and privileges.” (James 2 in “The Message.”) The author of Hebrews reminds us that by showing hospitality to strangers we may be welcoming angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)

Not long ago, the leadership of this congregation developed a paper called “Room at the Table: A Welcoming Posture for Ministry in Today’s World.” It is an excellent statement of intention. It helps us aspire to do better at welcoming the other, but are we acting on it? It concludes, “This welcoming posture is particularly applicable to differences of perspective and experience in matters of human sexuality, immigration, and political alignment…At CoS, on these matters, and many more, there is room at the table for all.” Is there room at the table for all? Are all warmly welcomed to the table of the Lord?

I love the image of the table of welcome, with room at the table for all. I’m picturing room at this table for an Israeli and a Palestinian, for a Ukrainian and a Russian, for a Democrat and a Republican, for all colors of the human family, for all expressions of gender identity, for believer and seeker and struggler and doubter, for religious and irreligious and non-religious, for you and for me. If we can come to the Table of the Lord together, I believe amazing things can happen.

I’m a fan of “On the Road with Steve Hartman” on CBS news. Hartman finds stories that warm my heart and often bring a tear to my eye. Recently he told about Grant Mullen’s ninth birthday party. Mark, Grant’s father, asked Grant to make a list of guests to invite. Grant surprised his father with a list of friends from a rec center in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where they live. Mark volunteers at this rec center for youth with special needs. Sometimes Mark takes Grant with him and Grant helps with the games. Grant said he wanted to invite all those special friends. When Steve Hartman asked Grant why he invited them, he said, “They don’t get invited to birthdays. Sometimes people don’t get as much love.” So for his ninth birthday party, Grant was the host for his special friends. Hartman’s report didn’t touch on religion. I don’t know if Grant goes to Sunday school or if his family goes to church or synagogue or mosque or nowhere. But that nine-year-old got the point of Jesus’ teaching.

Jesus now speaks to that religious leader directly: “Then he turned to the host. ‘The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks. You’ll be—and experience—a blessing. They won’t be able to return the favor, but the favor will be returned—oh, how it will be returned!—at the resurrection of God’s people.’” (Luke 14:12-14 in “the Message”)

[This message was delivered at Perinton Presbyterian Church on July 6, 2025, based on Galatians 6:7-16. A video copy can be found on their webpage.]

Two peoples, living side by side and sharing ancestors, yet historically set against each other.  My heart aches for the Israelis and Palestinians living so close to each other, yet so far apart. My heart aches for Jewish children living in fear of Palestinian attacks. My heart aches for Palestinian children living in fear of Israeli attacks. Every child is a precious gift from God. Children should not grow up in fear, but in love and acceptance of their neighbors, even neighbors that are of a different heritage. That is true in every place and nation, including our own. Children should not grow up in fear for their lives or that their parents will be separated from them. My heart aches for Jewish and Palestinian soldiers, following orders and seeking to serve their national interest, and too many of them wounded or dying. This struggle didn’t start two years ago. It has been going on for centuries, indeed for over two millennia. It starts with the two sons of Abraham, Ishmael and Isaac, one born of Abraham’s wife Sarah and one born of their servant Hagar. These half-brothers became warring siblings. I am in this strange place: I am pro-Israel and I am pro-Palestine. I want these warring cousins to find a way to live side by side with respect, kindness, and peace. My hope remains strong that one day we all will learn to live together as neighbors, even though the current situation makes that seem impossible.

The challenge was there for the early church. The barrier-breaking ministry of Jesus meant good news for all people, not just Israeli nationals, but Jews and gentiles, women and men, poor and rich. All people. As first generation preachers of the good news, both Peter and Paul invited all people to respond to the good news of God’s love in Christ—and gentiles began responding in great numbers.  Here was the challenge for the early church: it started with Jews and soon welcomed large numbers of gentiles. Jewish followers of Jesus were the first leaders of the church. Many of the Jewish believers were willing to welcome gentiles, as long as the gentiles became Jewish followers of Jesus. Judaism had devolved into a religious system, with mandatory rituals and rules.

Circumcision was one of the rituals. It was administered to baby boys, like a sacrament, and to men entering Judaism that hadn’t been circumcised. The Jewish followers of Jesus were telling the gentiles, you may join us as long as you become like us. Here is how that might feel for the outsider. A friend once invited me to golf with him at the golf club he belonged to. I have played golf since I was a teenager, but always at public courses, where anyone could play. When I went with my friend to the club, I wore a tee-shirt. An employee told me I couldn’t play on that course because I wasn’t wearing a golf short with a collar. My tee-shirt was a good one and clean, but it didn’t have a collar. My friend was embarrassed and said to wait for a minute. He went and talked to someone and came out with a shirt with a collar for me to wear there. I put it on and played with him. But I was not at ease. I wondered what other rituals they had that might disqualify me. As I played, I observed only white people playing, all with nice golf shirts with collars and good equipment. When we finished playing, my friend invited me into the clubhouse for something cold to drink. Then I saw some black people, serving the white people. And I became very uncomfortable. I didn’t really belong there. I wasn’t part of the in-group. I didn’t know the secret handshake or the code words—and I didn’t want to.

How might a gentile follower of Jesus feel entering a church that had in-house rules and rituals to make sure only the right people entered? The apostle Paul responds with clarity. His letter to the Galatian church has an unusual urgency. Unlike every other letter of Paul, this letter has no opening thanksgiving section. Paul is in a hurry to right a ship that might be sinking. He uses bold language. Chapter 3 gets to the heart of the matter with words Paul uses nowhere else. “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly exhibited as crucified!” The Message makes it more colorful: ”You crazy Galatians! Did someone put a spell on you? Have you taken leave of your senses? Something crazy has happened, for it’s obvious that you no longer have the crucified Jesus in clear focus in your lives. His sacrifice on the cross was certainly set before you clearly enough.” Paul had once been a member of the in-group, circumcised according to the rules, ritually clean. Then he met the crucified and risen Lord and the grace of God turned his religious world upside down.

What was at issue? Demanding people to become religious was a denial of the grace of God in Jesus. I have worked for the Church my whole adult life and I understand the danger of religion. I know it from the inside. Religion tends to become ritualized and rigid. It tends to live by rules and demand that people follow the rules. The people that gave Jesus the hardest time were the religious leaders. Jesus was condemned to be crucified by a toxic combination of political and religious leaders. Beware of mixing church and state. When that happens, the church always loses.

Paul’s answer is the gospel, the good news of God’s grace freely given by Jesus. “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world.For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything, but a new creation is everything!” Now hear it in “The Message”: “I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is what God is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life!” In the cross of Jesus, grace wins and mercy prevails. We cling to the cross because there Jesus does what religion could never do, setting us free to love God and love neighbor. The point system is gone. Grace flows from the cross of Jesus.

When the power of Jesus’ death on the cross is understood, nothing will ever be the same. In his letter to the Church in Ephesus, Paul summarizes this: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast.For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we may walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:8-10)

Recently I was in a local hospital for part of a day (passing a kidney stone: ouch!). My time there started in one nursing shift and ended in the next one. I experienced two kinds of nursing. The first shift nurse was competent, but she never asked how I was. She didn’t offer me a warm blanket or a bottle of water. She took my vital signs without making eye contact with me or even speaking to me. At 3pm, her shift ended and she left without saying a word to me. The next nurse came in a few minutes later to take my vital signs. She sat next to me and spoke to me, asking how I was doing. She told me her name. She asked what I did for a living. She offered me a warm blanket. She asked if there was anything else she could do for me. What a difference it made in my brief hospital stay. Oh, one more observation. One of them was wearing a necklace with a cross hanging from it. Which do you think it was: the first nurse or the second one?

When Joe Biden was elected in 2020, he was the oldest person ever elected to be president of the United States. Donald Trump, re-elected in 2024 for a second term, is now the oldest person elected to be president of the United States. The third oldest was Ronald Reagan who, though several years younger than Biden or Trump, showed signs of mental decline in his second term and a few years after leaving office announced to the nation, in a gracious way, that he had Alzheimer’s Disease.

Biden’s apparent mental and physical decline is being chronicled in a new book released in May and will be in other books to follow. His debate performance against Trump in June of 2024 is widely seen as disastrous to his campaign, leading to his decision not to seek re-election. Some people are seeing similar patterns in President Trump. In late May Biden revealed that he has an aggressive form of prostate cancer, which seems to be increasingly common for men of his age. (I am 78 as I write this and know the statistics; many of my contemporary male friends have been found with prostate cancer.)

Our constitution has a minimum age requirement to become president, 35 years. But it has no upper limit. Should it? I have never thought so, but now I am increasingly open to moving in that direction. Politicians in most cases have considerable difficulty stepping away from office. David French in a column in the New York Times in May, 2025, held up Justice David Souter as something of a model for retiring from the Supreme Court at a reasonable age. Souter retired at age 69 after serving for 19 years. He went to his New Hampshire home and lived out his remaining years in commendable ways and died at age 85.

I retired at age 66 after holding the same job for 38 years. I was in good health, mentally and physically; I could have easily served several more years. There was no pressure put on me to retire. But I was aware of the toll of years of demanding work and wanted to walk away rather than be carried away. In my retirement I have been able to hold part time jobs that I found and find meaningful, but not nearly as taxing as the full time work I once did. While demanding some adjustments in my life, my retirement, now in its 13^th year, has been a wonderful chapter in my life journey.

Should we amend the constitution to establish an upper age requirement for running for president? Maybe it is time to do so. I suggest that no one be allowed to be inaugurated as president past that person’s 75^th birthday. That would have precluded a first term for Biden, and a second term for Trump. I think that would have been wise for the health of our country. That leaves a window of 40 years for people to run for president, which is more than generous.

[This message was delivered on Good Friday, April 18, 2025, at Community of the Savior, Rochester, NY. It can be found streamed on the Community of the Savior webpage on Facebook.]

It struck me in a stunningly silent moment.  I was standing on holy ground and I didn’t realize at first. There innocent blood had been spilt. There the mangled bodies of the dead were buried. Without proper burial. Their remains spread over the earth on hardscrabble soil.

It wasn’t Jerusalem. It wasn’t Calvary. It wasn’t Golgotha. It wasn’t the hill of the Skull. It was a field in western Pennsylvania, near Shanksville, once strip mined. I stood there a month ago at the flight #93 memorial. Simple, dignified, understated.

I didn’t realize at first that I was standing in a cemetery. There were no gravestones, no white crosses in perfect rows. No flowers, real or artificial. We know that forty persons who boarded United flight #93 the morning of September 11, 2001, bound for the west coast, went down in that field, choosing to do so for a higher cause, to save the lives of others.

One month ago I stood on holy ground. But I didn’t know it at first. That night I found myself thinking, what makes ground holy? Is some ground holier than other ground? What enables us to say of one plot of earth, this is holy ground? Two answers came into my mind quickly: ground on which innocent blood has been spilt and ground on which great sacrifice has been made. I was standing on holy ground.

Solo: We are standing on holy ground And we know that there are angels all around, Let us praise Jesus now We are standing in His presence On holy ground

Jesus enters Jerusalem through a garden. That is how John’s telling of the heart of the passion begins: “Jesus, having prayed this prayer, left with his disciples and crossed over the brook Kidron at a place where there was a garden. He and his disciples entered it.”  (John 18:1)

A garden. The biblical narrative begins in a garden called Eden and ends in a garden city called the New Jerusalem, the new heaven and new earth. In between Jesus enters Jerusalem through a garden. Jesus prays earnestly in a garden.

The Bible, God’s story and our story inseparably intertwined, is exceedingly earthy. It is more earthy than heavenly. Its scope is universal, global, cosmic, but it is always local and particular. Jesus was born in Bethlehem, one little town. He fled as an immigrant to Egypt. He was raised in Nazareth, another little town. He was crucified on a mound of soil called Golgotha, Calvary, the Skull, just beyond the city wall of Jerusalem. These are places we can find on a map. Religious pilgrims visit these places and have their pictures taken, because we call it the holy land. Holy ground.

In a stroke of poetic genius, Eugene Peterson in The Message translated John 1:14 this way: “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” He moved into a specific neighborhood. And he made our ground holy. Wherever his spirit is alive, the ground is holy.

The cross didn’t hang in the stratosphere or the thermosphere or the ionosphere. It didn’t hang above Calvary. It was planted in our earth, our soil, in God’s garden. Pounded and anchored in holy ground.

Between that first garden and that last garden is another garden: Gethsemane, leading to Calvary. Holy ground all. As Jesus is crucified on a cross planted in that soil, the earth reacts violently, heaving from the depths. Matthew says, “At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split.” (27:51) Luke says the sun hid its light for three hours. How could nature not react in repulsion?

Solo: As the sun darkens, the earth quakes, No shelter from this storm is to be found. The entire earth suddenly awakes For we are standing in his presence on holy ground.

He was crucified here on terra firma. Our soil. Our ground. And he made it holy. Sanctified it. Hallowed it. Consecrated it. When President Lincoln stood on the blood-soaked ground of the Gettysburg battlefield, he admitted the impotence of the living to do what only those who made the ultimate sacrifice could do. He said,

“We cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.” A battlefield become a cemetery, made holy by spilt blood and ultimate sacrifice. Golgotha. Calvary. The Skull. Made holy by spilt blood and ultimate sacrifice.

“In Christ Alone,” a newer hymn that I like, has one major mistake which misses the heart of God when it says, “Till on that cross as Jesus died, The wrath of God was satisfied.” No! Jesus is not on the cross because God is angry with him. Jesus is not appeasing a God filled with wrath. Someone offered the perfect revision:

“Till on that cross as Jesus died, The love of God was magnified.
For every sin on Him was laid; Here in the death of Christ I live.”

It is God’s love that moves Jesus to the cross. It is God’s love that compels him to shed his blood. It is God’s love that causes him to sacrifice his own life for us. It is God’s love that makes the blood-soaked ground at the foot of the cross holy. It is for God’s love that Jesus suffers. It is for God’s love that God suffers. And we are standing on holy ground here, this day, here, now, at the foot of his cross.

Solo: At the foot of the cross, his mercy flows And I know that here God’s grace and love abound. Made holy by his death, this soil shows That we are standing in His presence on holy ground. We are standing on holy ground and we know that there are angels all around, Let us praise Jesus now We are standing in His presence on holy ground.

[This message, based on Luke 6:27-38, was delivered at Ogden NY Presbyterian Church on February 23, 2025. A video version can be found on that church’s webpage.]

Valentine’s day was just over a week ago. So this should be easy for us. Let’s think of one person that we really love. Focus on that person now. What does that do for our inner beings? Is there a warmth? A bit of a heart throb? A good feeling?

Now let’s think of someone that we don’t love. Someone we really don’t like. Perhaps an enemy or adversary. Maybe someone we hate. Don’t think of a group of people, but of one person. It may be someone we don’t know or someone we do know. Focus on that person now. What does that do to our bodies? Is there tension in us? A quickened heartbeat? A cold feeling?

If we had certain monitors connected to us, they would have indicated some big differences in us. When we think about someone we love, there are changes in our body chemistry.

Dopamine, the ‘reward hormone,’ reinforces the pleasure we feel from love and encourages us to seek more of these feelings. Oxytocin, the ‘love hormone,’ promotes trust, connections, and bonding with others.

When we think about someone we hate, there are also changes happening in us. Hatred leads to anxiety, restlessness, obsessive thinking, and paranoia, which affect overall mental health. Hatred negatively impacts the nervous system, immune system, and endocrine system.

So, let’s stretch Valentine’s Day to every day of the year. It’s healthy for us to think about those we love. In the passage I just read, Jesus used the word love six times. Every time he used the word for God’s love, agape, love that exists in giving, not receiving, in seeing the best in the one loved. Loving others does good things to our beings and our bodies.

I follow the lectionary as I preach in different churches most Sundays. I didn’t select the reading from Luke 6 today. Over the last month I have preached in a different church almost every Sunday. I have been following Luke 4-6 for a month. Today’s passage is the second in a section called the sermon on the plain. It is similar to the more famous sermon on the mount in Matthew 5-7, but a bit different. Every word in today’s text is directly from Jesus. Luke doesn’t add commentary. If you have a Bible with the words of Jesus in red, this is a red-letter passage; every word from Jesus.

I read about a pastor that recently felt the spiritual nudge to preach about the undercurrent of strife in our nation. The text before the pastor was a direct teaching of Jesus. The pastor preached the message, trying to honor the words of Jesus and speaking to the current situation. At the door after that worship service, some people avoided greeting the pastor. One couple, however, stepped right up to the pastor and said this. “We don’t appreciate what you said today. Please stay with the gospel in the future.” What is the gospel if not the words and teachings of Jesus?

I take my task to be what Nehemiah 8:8 says: “So they read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading.” That is what I am doing whenever I preach. I seek to give the sense of the passage, to bring understanding. In today’s text there are three sayings of Jesus that jump out at me and all point to the same truth, like a braid of three strands. A braid of three strands is always much stronger than any one strand.

1. “Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you;bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you.” (vss. 27-28) Love is an action we take for the other. It has emotional content, but it is far more than an emotion. Jesus goes on to say that if we only love people that we like, people easy to love, people that can easily send love back at us, we are missing his point. He is calling on us to love people that are not easy to like or love, even people who hate us and curse us.
2. “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” (vs. 31) We commonly call this the golden rule. It was known before Jesus came on the scene. The rabbis of Judaism used it before Jesus, but they used it in the negative: “Do not do to others as you would them not do to you.” Jesus gives it a fresh new meaning by putting it in the positive: Do to others. It is an active doing.
3. “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” (vs. 36) Mercy withholding the judgment or punishment people deserve, but treating them in love. I think of Micah 6:8, perhaps the highest peak of the prophets of ancient Israel: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” There was a sermon preached in the National Cathedral on January 21 in which the preacher urged the new president to be merciful to people that are scared. The call to be merciful comes directly from Jesus.

Did Jesus really mean what he says in this passage? Maybe he was exaggerating to make a point. If so, the point was made very clearly. We are to love people in a radical way. The word radical is often misunderstood today. People refer to radicals as extremists. The word literally means to get to the roots of a matter. Jesus is calling us to practice a radical kind of love, the kind that comes from God. Jesus calls us to a new and better way, not the way of retribution, retaliation, and revenge. Jesus is calling us to love, mercy, and blessing. Martin Luther King, Jr.

said it memorably: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”  

A president of another nation, one now gone from us, told of this incident.

“After I became president, I asked my escort to go to a restaurant for lunch. At one table a man waiting to be served. I said to one of my soldiers: go and ask that gentleman to join us. The man got up, took his plate and sat down right next to me. While he ate his hands trembled constantly and he did not lift his head from his food. When we finished, he said goodbye without looking at me. I shook his hand as he left.

“The soldier told me: That man must have been very ill, seeing as his hands didn’t stop shaking while he ate. Then I told him: That man was the warden of the prison where I stayed. After he tortured me, I cried asking for some water and he humiliated me, laughed at me and instead of giving me water, he urinated in my head. He is not sick, he was afraid that I, now president of South Africa, would send him to prison and do to him what he did to me. But I’m not like that, this conduct is not part of my character, nor of my ethics.

′′Minds that seek revenge destroy states, while those that seek reconciliation build nations. Walking out the door to my freedom, I knew that if I didn’t leave all the anger, hatred and resentment behind me, I would still be a prisoner.” –Nelson Mandela

Jesus speaks these words to those that are listening. Are we listening? There is a difference between merely listening and really hearing. Let us listen and hear the words of our Lord: “Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you;bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you…. Do to others as you would have them do to you…. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

[This message based on Luke 4:21-30 was delivered at the Fellowship of Faith (South Presbyterian Church), Rochester NY on 2.2.25. It was not recorded.]

Today he is back! A regular at worship has been away for six Sundays. This is someone who was raised in our congregation. We watched him go through Sunday school and memorize scripture verses by the dozen. We watched him be confirmed, becoming a full member of the congregation. We watched him active in youth group, growing in his faith in God and sharing his faith. When his father died too early, we watched him take the family business and make it thrive. We saw and touched the excellent furniture that shop produced. We have some of that furniture here in our sanctuary. We watched him care for his widowed mother and model how to do that for his siblings. We watched him be baptized in the Jordan by his cousin John. Then he went missing for six consecutive Sundays. We are concerned. We miss him. Where did he go? Will he every come back to this little town?

And today he is back. There is rejoicing. Jesus, the son of Mary is back. Some say exclaim rhetorically, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” What a day this is. This is how it unfolds in Luke’s gospel. Luke tells is more about Jesus’ birth than anyone else. Then his cousin John appears and Jesus willingly submits to his baptism for repentance, even though Jesus had done nothing to repent of. Then the Holy Spirit thrusts him into the wilderness for 40 days, including six sabbath days. Synagogue life goes on in Nazareth, but Jesus is missing for six Sabbaths. We are concerned. We miss him. Where did he go? Will he every come back to this little town?

Now he is back, seated there with James and his other brothers. An attendant brings the scroll to him. He is a good reader and even a better interpreter. The scroll is opened to Isaiah 61:1-2:

“The spirit of the Lord God is upon me because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor …”

He begins his commentary in a stunning way: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” That is dramatic. I like it when sermons begin with some drama and command my attention. Today! What a powerful first word. Did you notice the first word in this message? Luke likes to use this word. Of the four gospels, Luke uses “today” more than any other. Two moments stand out to me.

• When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” …Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:5, 9-10)
• Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:42-43)

There is an immediacy to the call of Jesus. He doesn’t call us follow him yesterday or tomorrow; he calls us to follow him today, the only day we have. I have plans for tomorrow, but that is all they are–plans. I only have today to live and follow Jesus and love my neighbors.

At this point, his first sermon in his home base of worship is going well. “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” (verse 22). Then the tone changes and the tide turns. Jesus makes two references to stories from the Hebrew scriptures. One would think that would play well in the First Synagogue of Nazareth, especially coming from a hometown hero. First, he refers to the widow of Zarephath in Sidon, to whom the prophet Elijah ministered in a time of severe famine in the land. That widow mattered to God and to the prophet Elijah. Second, he mentions a leper named Naaman, a Syrian, to whom the prophet Elisha ministered. The Syrian leper mattered to God and to the prophet Elisha. Both the widow and the leper received God’s gracious favor. But here’s the rub: both were gentiles, outsiders to the Jewish insiders, perceived adversaries, even enemies.

“When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.” (verse 28) What brought on this rage? Two stories about God’s prophets ministering to non-Israelites, gentiles, outsiders? Unfortunately, Israel had forgotten that from its beginning, from the initial calling of Abraham and Sarah, Israel was to be a blessing to all the nations. The faithful synagogue goers of Nazareth missed the point of God sending Jonah to the foreign power of Nineveh to call them, outsiders, to receive God’s gracious good news. Jesus tells two stories from the Hebrew scriptures and suddenly he is not the hometown hero, the son of Joseph the carpenter and Mary, always faithful to her synagogue. Instead he is perceived to be a threat to the status quo, a troubler of the superficially calm waters.

This is the first sermon Jesus preached. The Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7 is a compilation of many teachings of Jesus, some of them scattered in Luke. Matthew liked to do that. But here in Nazareth, right after Jesus comes back from his 40 days of fasting and being tempted in the wilderness, before he launches full bore into his Galilean ministry, Jesus speaks from Isaiah 61:1-2 about the nature of his calling and that of his followers: “to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” And that sermon stirs up a hornet’s nest in his home synagogue in Nazareth.

A sermon preached January 21 in the National Cathedral had a similar response. Being a preacher my whole adult life and a professor of preaching in my retirement, I take note when a sermon stirs up things. (Have my sermons stirred up things enough?) The sermon of which I speak was biblically based and graciously delivered. The sermon was based on a passage from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 7. While the final two minutes have gotten the most attention, I watched the entire sermon and the final two minutes several times. With the new president of the United States in the front row, Bishop Mariann Budde called for a unity based on recognizing the inherent dignity of every person, honest communication in public life, and personal humility. Who could question the biblical validity of those values? Then she spoke directly to the president, not commanding him, but pleading with him to recognize that millions of Americans are scared now of what the government might do to them. She mentioned four groups specifically: transgendered young people, entry level workers, children fearing their parents being separated from them, and strangers fleeing from places of hardship and oppression. The quality she pleaded for is mercy. To treat people mercifully. I thought immediately of one of my favorite teachings in the Hebrew scriptures, a glorious summary of following God, much memorized and quoted: “And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8) Calling us to be merciful is thoroughly biblical.

Jesus begins his first hometown sermon memorably and to enthusiastic response: “’Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” Then he tells how God’s mercy extends even to gentiles, to outsiders, to the unlikely, to a gentile widow in Sidon, to a diseased Syrian soldier, and the congregation is enraged. Such is the nature of proclaiming God’s good news made flesh in Jesus of Nazareth: it can both amaze and enrage people. God’s embrace is ever surprising us who think we know the bounds of that circle. God grace is ever widening the circle of mercy and welcome.

[This message was delivered at John Calvin Presbyterian Church, Henrietta NY, on January 19, 2025, based on Isaiah 62:1-5 and John 2:1-11.]

Last Sunday I was to be in Los Angeles. With my older daughter I was going to spend a long weekend visiting cousins, other relatives, and friends. I am a native of LA. We had even purchased tickets to go to the Rams-Vikings NFL playoff game. Then wildfires started and spread like cancer. My wife, who was not making this trip with us, was raised in Pacific Palisades. Her entire childhood neighborhood is gone. We had to postpone the trip. The carefully planned party came to a grinding halt.

A wedding party running out of wine is hardly to be compared to wildfires destroying thousands of homes and businesses, taking several dozen lives, and charring untold acres of land. But if it is our wedding, it is big deal. If we have been planning for months for this wedding and reception, with a lot of guests planning on enjoying a good party, it is a big deal if the wine runs out. If all those guests have brought generous gifts, it is a big deal if the wine runs out early. If we are the hosts, if this is my daughter’s long anticipated wedding, the one she has been envisioning since childhood, and the wine runs our early, we are more than embarrassed.

We know very little about Cana. It was probably about a 90-minute walk north of Nazareth. Outside of this passage in John, it is only mentioned two other times in the Bible, both in John. Apparently only John knew about it. It doesn’t sound like a tourist site. But maybe someone turned an old barn into a wedding destination.

And why are Mary, Jesus, and his disciples invited? We have no record of them ever visiting Cana except this once. Surely no one expects them to bring lavish gifts. They are not the best dressed people there. Some of those disciples lack social graces. A couple of them are zealots, hotheads; you don’t want them to drink too much. They aren’t much interested in fancy little appetizers and sparkling beverages in fancy glasses. Just some hearty red wine will be sufficient. And then the wine runs out.

This leads to one of the most quirky conversations in the gospels, going something like this.

Mary to Jesus: “They are out of wine.”

Jesus to Mary: “So what; that’s not my problem. I’ve got bigger things to deal with.”

Mary to the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.”

This is like Bob Uecker talking to Yogi Berra about baseball. Or about anything. What did you say? What do you mean? Speak English, please.

Mary to Jesus: “They are out of wine.”

Jesus to Mary: “Thanks for pointing out the obvious. By the way, I’m going to be crucified before long, so this is just not that big a deal to me.”

Mary to servants: “Just in case my son, who happens to be the Messiah, comes up with a useful suggestion, be ready to do something.”

We know what happens next, but let’s pretend we don’t for a few minutes. Let’s see it as if for the first time. There is a row of six large stone jars, the kind you might put on your deck and plant some tomatoes in. Except these jars are used for Jewish ceremonial rites of purification. Each can hold up to 30 gallons of water. They are attractive and serve a religious purpose. Jesus tells the servants to fill them with water. Not wanting to incur Mary’s wrath, they fill them to the brim. Jesus then says to draw some of that water and bring it to the party host. That seems unusual, but why not? When the host looks at the water, it is deep red. He takes a sip. It is fine wine. He is astonished and bewildered. He tells the groom, “Everyone serves the good wine first and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Forget the finger foods; this wine is delicious. Some of the guests decide on the spot to increase their wedding gifts. “Honey, please find our envelope and bring it back. We need to slip more money in it.” The band plays an extra hour for no extra charge. The dancing gets wilder. And the party goes on and on, till about 180 gallons of the finest wine are gone.

John concludes this narrative, and John is only gospel writer that even mentions it, in this way. “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.” Note that John did not use the word “miracle.” The word miracle does not occur in the four gospels. The word sign appears over 40 times. The distinction is important. Miracles tend to dazzle and impress us. Signs point us to something beyond the sign itself. Jesus never did miracles like a magician, to dazzle us. He did signs to point us to the inbreaking kingdom of God, the new way of believing and living. Everything he does is signaling God’s glory right here among us, even right here at a wedding party. The turning of water into wine just doesn’t seem like that big a deal. It’s not like giving a blind person sight or a crippled person mobility. It’s not like giving someone with cancer a long-term cure. It simply enables a party to go one a bit longer. But that party would end. The party goers would return to their everyday workaday lives. But they will never forget what happened at that wedding party.

Jesus took the ordinary—is anything more ordinary than water?—and made something extraordinary. Not lost on us is that Jesus uses some jars with religious purposes to do something religion can never do: to reveal God’s glory and help us to believe in him, to put our trust completely in him. At best religion can point us beyond itself to Jesus who is more than religion can ever be. At worst, religion can get in the way of God’s glory in Jesus and become another set of rigid rules.

A wedding party once stopped because the wine ran out. Then Jesus took some water and revived the party. The beginning of a marriage is cause for a party. Isaiah uses marriage imagery to describe how God loves us. “For the Lord delights in you, and your land shall be married.  For as a young man marries a young woman, so shall your builder marry you, and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.” (Isaiah 62:4-5) God delights in us and God rejoices over us.

When the host first tasted that new wine, he wondered where it came from. John said, “The servants knew.” The helpers knew. Of course. The helpers saw Jesus up close. When Mr. Rogers was a child and saw scary things in the news, as we do now so often, his mother would say to him, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” Where there is need, Jesus is always helping. In the wildfires of Los Angeles, people are helping. Jesus is among them, helping with them.  In the ruins of Gaza and Ukraine, Jesus is helping with the helpers.

Let the new wine flow. Let the party begin and go on and on. The glory of God is on full display.

[This message was given at Irondequoit Presbyertian Church on 12/8/24, the second Sunday of Advent, based on Luke 1:68-79 and Luke 3:1-6. It was not recorded.]

Who is the most widely known Presbyterian minister of the last 50 years? In 1997, the Daytime Emmys gave him a lifetime achievement award. It was star-studded gathering at Radio City Music Hall in NYC. When his name was announced, the crowd was on its feet applauding this amazing man, Fred Rogers, as the band played the familiar tune of “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood….” Mr. Rogers thanked them and then reminded them that their lives had been shaped and influenced by others. He introduced 10 seconds of silence for everyone there to think of those people. The cameras caught people dabbing their cheeks as they couldn’t hold back tears. Let me rephrase the question Mr. Rogers asked them. Who are some, perhaps one or two, that influenced and shaped your life for following Jesus? I’ll give you ten seconds of silence…. You just named a John the Baptist (or two) in your faith journey.

We don’t get to Jesus without John the Baptist, the forerunner, the preparer of the way of the Lord. We don’t get to John the Baptist without Zechariah and Elizabeth, his loving parents. We find them in the opening of Luke’s gospel. By the way, without Luke’s account we would never have Christmas pageants. Because of Luke’s careful reporting we have Zechariah and Elizabeth, Mary’s song of praise, called the Magnificat, the journey to Bethlehem, the angelic chorus, the shepherds, the inn with no room available for them, and the manger. Before the cosmic spotlight is on Jesus, it is on John. Before the cosmic spotlight is on John, it is on Zechariah and Elizabeth.

We know this about them: they are old. Very old. Far too old for welcoming a baby. Zechariah is a priest, serving at the temple in Jerusalem. They are righteous and devout. And they are living with disappointment: a baby had never been given them. For Elizabeth, that is a bitter pill according to the expectations of that time. One day old Zach is serving in the holy place and an angel appears to him with an alarming message. Old Lizzie is going to have a baby. Being a man of sound mind, he cannot quite believe this. The angel didn’t retract the message; the angel simply silenced old Zach for at least nine months. That is messing with Zach’s work. Priests, like pastors today, needed to say prayers aloud and needed to tell the people of the word and ways of God.

Elizabeth conceives and then goes into a five-month seclusion. Old Zach loses his voice and old Lizzie disappears. What must people have been thinking?  Is this the stuff of a Hallmark Christmas movie or an episode of Law and Order? Elizabeth finally returns—now obviously pregnant; I wonder what the faithful are saying about that!—and gives birth to that baby. The temple congregation rejoices—except those questioning how this could happen with such old folks—and assumes the baby will be name Zechariah Jr. But no, says Lizzie, the baby will be called John—meaning God is gracious. They ask Zach. He takes his iPad and writes, His name is John. And just then his voice returns. Let it be noted that his voice returns when he admits that his wife was right!

Then, as people do in great musicals, Zach breaks into song. And probably some dance too. That song is our first reading today. About half of it is about Jesus, not yet on the scene; and half is about John, who is about to make his debut. About Jesus, Zach says that he will be a mighty savior, the long promised one, our messiah. About John, he says that he will prepare the way of the Lord. He will call us to account before God. Hear those words he speaks to his son:

“And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. Because of the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:76-79)

And now John is grown and doing his public ministry. Luke reminds us of the power holders of the time: “Tiberius Caesar, the emperor, Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea, Herod ruler of Galilee…” There is a power trio. Luke adds two more: “During the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas.” (Luke 3:1-2)Political leaders and religious leaders often like to cozy up to one another. And it is always toxic. Let the Church beware of any temptations to political power. The Church always loses when it curries favor from the government. Beware political leaders that promise to protect the Church.

The word of the Lord is not sent to Tiberius, the Caesar, or to Pontius Pilate, the governor, or to Herod, the ruler, or to Annas and Caiaphas, the high priests. No, no, no, no, no. “The word of God comes to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” John, who is politically powerless, is favored by the Most High. Having received the Word of the Lord, John becomes thunder in the wilderness.

John fears no one but God. He helps me to be more like that. I was a pastor of one congregation for 38 years. I know the politics of pastoring, of trying to keep the entire flock together. I know what it is like to want so much to be liked by everyone in the congregation. It can’t be done for very long. Though John was never a pastor of a local congregation, he makes me a better pastor by his singleness of heart. By his desire to do the will of God no matter what. By his passion to point everyone to Jesus. By his persevering work in preparing the way for the Lord.

We don’t know Jesus without John and people like him. There is a theory called six degrees of separation that goes something like this. I can connect with anyone on earth by identifying a chain of six or fewer people. I am blessed to have a connection with Jesus that came to me through John, and then people like my mother. What is your chain of connection like?

I asked you in the beginning of this message to identify some people whose influence pointed you to Jesus and helped shape your faith. Now I have a question and a charge for us. The question: For whom are we being like John the Baptist, pointing them to Jesus?

The charge: If in that exercise you thought of any one still living, thank them. Send a note, or make a call, or send an email or text and thank them.

We are all indebted to all the John the Baptists for pointing us to Jesus. His father, old Zach, spoke God’s word to him: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,to give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. Because of the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us,to shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” John heard and heeded the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.