Sermons

The Fears and Joys of Liberation

The Fears and Joys of Liberation

Anna’s hope, the hope that permeates Black History, the hope we see in global calls for liberation - including that of Palestine - is not swayed by the knowledge that there will be hard things to face. We hear from the whole Gospel, from the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus that God’s work doesn’t stop at revealing what’s wrong. God’s work doesn’t stop at creating a new law. Simeon’s paraklésis, Simeon’s call for aid has been answered. God is here to do the work with us, to change our hearts, and to change our world. So let us do the work together with Joy.

WWJD

WWJD

In our world today we still hear scripture quoted to promote silence for the sake of peace and unity. We may even hear scripture quoted in direct support of genocide. If we fail to speak against this twisting of scripture, we become complicit yet again. Complicit in a new atrocity. 

As Christians when we ask, “What Would Jesus Do?” Let's not forget the image of Jesus we see in this scripture. A Jesus who addressed uncomfortable topics and difficult situations with confidence. A Jesus who called out injustice boldly, both inside and outside of the synagogue.

Little Epiphanies Everywhere

Little Epiphanies Everywhere

What made the perils of my adventure bearable was knowing that I was not alone. I was journeying alongside my family and friends, many of whom were also immigrants and people of color. We affirmed each other and stood together even when we were told that our experiences of racism in the US were not real. We named our experiences and found healing in community. I learned that journeying together is always better than journeying alone.

Hodie. Today.

Hodie. Today.

We were in Bethlehem about a month before the attacks of October 7. Tucked away in a large church, we joined other pilgrims in entering a small space in which it is believed to be the cave where Jesus was born. Kneeling and kissing or touching the birthplace. We went to other holy sites where Jesus was born, walked, lived, and died. On each site a church was built.

What moved me wasn’t necessarily that “Jesus was here” two thousand years ago. Rather, it was observing the present-day pilgrims that moved me. Many of them were with groups, often Roman Catholic or Orthodox, and at each site they celebrated a eucharist in a small chapel designated for this purpose.

O' Little Town of Bethlehem

O' Little Town of Bethlehem

O’ little town of Bethelem, how still we see thee lie above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the ever-lasting light, the hopes and fear of all the years are met in thee tonight.

 For many of us, this beloved carol has framed our image of Jesus' birth—a quiet, still night. The sky filled with holy darkness, but a beam of everlasting light shines a spotlight on the scene with Mary cradling Jesus at her breast and Joseph standing lovingly by her side. In the little town of Bethlehem, all hopes and fears come together and are met in the Christ Child.

Out of the blue

Out of the blue

The angel appeared out of the blue. And it changed everything. Natural disasters, violent attacks, accidents. Unplanned pregnancies or pregnancy complications. Resignations or terminations. Announcements of divorces or closings or moves. These can occur out of the blue.

Think of your life. What kinds of big changes came out of the blue for you? Something you could have never planned or expected? Something that changed everything?

Christ, ever-stranger, ever-near

Christ, ever-stranger, ever-near

It takes all of us to create a world where the hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, imprisoned strangers are treated like our Gospel envisions. Like we see Christ - who is ever stranger, ever near - in them. Like they are made in the image and likeness of God. Like they are part of the body of Christ. Like they are beloved members of our communities. Like they are us. It takes all of us to answer the Christ who says, "Welcome me."

Risk Tolerance

Risk Tolerance

As people of faith we do not do this alone, we are called to take risks together and not dig holes. As a community of faith, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church is working together to boldly proclaim that the kingdom of God is drawing near.  We invest our lives in service to one another and in assisting those who are more vulnerable than we are. We lean into reparations work and invest in repairing the damage done by generations past. We’re drawn to call out racism and demand an end to violence. We are called not to dig holes and bury ourselves and our gifts, but to take some risks and boldly proclaim, not only with our words and our prayers but also with our actions, that Christ is not only coming again but is here with us now.

Someone the light shines through

Someone the light shines through

A Sunday school teacher once asked a question to her young students, “Do you know what a saint is?” One of the little girls thinking about the big stained glass windows in the church that depicted saints throughout the centuries, said “A saint is someone the light shines through.”

It's unlikely that the little one understood metaphor and theology in such a profound way. But she gave an eight-word sermon that morning without even realizing it.

Beyond Measure

Beyond Measure

Like a loving parent, God continually calls us to be our best selves, and at the same time generously forgives us when we fall short. This generosity itself is a call for us to do the same with one another. We are made to be merciful.  We forgive because God forgives. The forgiveness that we are to pass on to others is the forgiveness we have in union with Christ. Not because we are moral heroes or because we seek our own well-being, but because we are forgiven people.

This brief, singular, God-breathed life

This brief, singular, God-breathed life

Taking up the cross means recognizing Christ crucified in every suffering soul and body that surrounds us, and pouring our energies and our lives into alleviating their pain — no matter what it costs.  It means accepting — against all the lies of our culture — that we will die.  It means following up that courageous acceptance with the most important question we can ask: Given my inevitable death, how shall I spend this brief, singular, God-breathed life?