Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
August 27, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

Matthew 16: 13-20

Beloved of God,

Grace and peace to you from Jesus our brother, and the Holy Spirit, our comforter and guide.

I’m going to take a little bit of a risk this morning, and ask you to talk with each other just for a couple of minutes. I’d simply like to invite you to turn to those who are near you and together, in groups of 3 or 4, talk about the question Jesus is asking us today: Who do you say that I am? It may feel a little scary to do this – it may feel a bit outside your comfort zone – but please give it a try. And don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to report to the whole congregation.

Thank you for that.

When Jesus and his disciples arrived in Caesarea Philippi, he asks them two questions. The first one is, “Who do the people say that the Son of Man is?” – Son of Man, of course, being the way in which Jesus refers to himself. The disciples chime in with several answers, but they all boil down to the same thing. The people think that Jesus is any number of dead prophets who have returned to life, including his own recently deceased cousin, John.

Jesus doesn’t comment on these various theories about his identity, either by dismissing them or affirming them. Instead, he goes directly onto the much more important question: “Who do YOU say that I am?” After all that Jesus and his disciples have shared – the teachings, healings, feedings, and stilling of storms – Jesus wants to know if they’re beginning to understand who he truly is. And he asks this question of ALL of them, not just one specific disciple. In the Greek, the YOU in “Who do YOU say that I am?” is plural. A better translation might be something like – Who do YOU ALL say that I am?

But there doesn’t appear to have been time for the disciples to confer with one another because Peter shouts out, “You are the Messiah, the Christ, the son of the living God.” Jesus celebrates this inspired answer calling Peter blessed because he has received this truth from God, not from his own wisdom or intellect. I imagine this scene to be like a classroom where there’s always that one kid who blurts out the answer before anyone else even has time to raise their hand. Peter is impulsive and headstrong – the one who’s always jumping in while the others hold back. In this case, that’s a good thing. But, it is also a deep flaw in Peter’s character which we’ll hear more about next week.

For now, it’s enough for us to realize that in choosing Peter to be the rock on which to build his church, Jesus has blessed, called and sanctified all of us who know ourselves to be flawed, imperfect people, full of contradictions, as capable of love and compassion as we are of hatred and fear. The good news is that Jesus builds his church not with perfect saints, but with forgiven sinners. Jesus’ call is a “come as you are” invitation to be part of this thing we call “church” – to be a member not of simply a human institution, but to be a member of what Paul declares is the body of Christ, Jesus’ risen body in the world now. This is our truest identity; we are members of the body of Christ – together. Each of our individual identities, gifts, and characteristics is cherished and valued, and each contributes to the whole body. But, it is in our collective identity as the body of Christ that we best carry out our calling to be Jesus in the world today.

So, Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, this gathering of beloved saints and sinners, this local expression of the body of Christ at 701 Iowa Avenue: How do we answer Jesus’ question? Who do we say that Jesus is? Well for one thing, when we say the Apostles’ Creed we declare with Peter that Jesus Christ is the son of the living God, the one who forgives sins and raises the dead.

We say that Jesus welcomes all with no exceptions. Take a look at the first page of our worship bulletin. It’s filled with words of welcome. We welcome guests and visitors in worship and fellowship.

We say that Jesus feeds us at Holy Communion and that Jesus welcomes everyone at the table – no prerequisites, no barriers, no litmus test.

We say that Jesus loves children and that we welcome the noise and energy they bring to our community.

We say that Jesus always stands on the side of the poor and oppressed, and so we advocate for justice for all people.

We are a Reconciling in Christ congregation, committed to welcoming and embracing all people regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity. This continues to be an important aspect of who we are, especially as the rights of transgender individuals are being threatened.

We are an AAMPARO congregation – part of a network of congregations that is committed to accompanying and advocating for migrant children who cross our southern border fleeing horrific violence in their home countries seeking protection, security and opportunities in the United States.

We are part of a church that takes seriously Jesus’ words, “Whenever you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.” We visit the sick, comfort the grieving, and respond to the needs of the community and the world through things like the Kids Lunch Club, ELCA World Hunger Appeal, and Lutheran Disaster Response. We advocate for and support both private and public funding that provides for the basic needs of food, shelter, medical care, and education for the most vulnerable members of our society.

In our congregation we reflect these priorities in our yearly budgeting – giving generously to the needs of the world. All of this and more are part of who we say Jesus is.

Last week during fellowship I was visiting with a newer member of the congregation, who told me that one of things that attracted him to G.S. was that we live out what it means to follow Jesus. We say clearly who we are and then we do what we say. That is a generous word of encouragement. We know that we do not do this perfectly and that there is always more we can do. But, we keep focused on the mission because we have experienced God’s generous welcome and unconditional love, God’s forgiveness and new life, and we want others to experience it as well.

Now, because many of us are …. well, somewhat reserved and not given to drawing attention to ourselves, it could be that naming aloud all of these positive attributes of our congregation makes you uncomfortable. It seems to lack proper humility and slips dangerously close to the sin of pride. But that is only true if we claim the credit for ourselves. Just as Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah was not his own doing, but a gift from God, so too, all that we do is purely by God’s blessing and grace. It is the Risen Christ who dwells in our midst, who calls and empowers us to be his body in the world. And so we give thanks and praise to God for the work that we are able to do in Jesus’ name. It is the Holy Spirit who gathers us here in this place to feed and nourish us, to form us in true identity as the Body of Christ, and then sends us forth to serve all in Jesus’ name.

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
August 20, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

This is a loud, chaotic and troubling story. A woman cries out to Jesus for help and he doesn’t answer her.

His disciples start yelling, “send her away.” Then Jesus makes things noisier by bringing animals into the mix.

He evokes images of bleating lost sheep and ravenous dogs who want the children’s food. He basically calls the woman a dog. That’s more than a little unsettling. This is a noisy, disturbing story.

Lately our country has also been loud, chaotic and troubling. It’s tempting to want to avoid anything else that will disturb us. Yet to be healed, sometimes we need to be disrupted and challenged, just as the disciples and Jesus were by this woman. So, let’s enter this story seeking God’s wisdom and mercy for us today.

An outsider, a foreigner, approaches Jesus crying out for mercy. She isn’t just any foreigner; she’s a Canaanite, an ancient enemy of Israel. And she’s shouting. The disciples see her as a threat, a scavenging dog trying to break into the sheepfold of the people of Israel. She’s trying to get something that isn’t hers to have. They leap into the fray like attack dogs guarding the gate. They shout to Jesus, “get rid of her.”

The English translation of this passage doesn’t capture it; but the cries of the woman and the shouts of the disciples rise in competing choruses.

The woman doesn’t just cry out to Jesus once. In the Greek, she keeps on saying, “Kyrie elesion – have mercy on me, Lord.” The disciples also repeat their words. They keep on saying to Jesus, “get rid of her” – in Greek, “apolyson.”

There’s some irony here – the Canaanite woman uses the language of faith and worship, “kyrie elesion”.

The disciples’ “apolyson” contains similar sounds but vastly different content.

So, who is acting like the lost sheep Jesus was sent to save and who is acting like a dog? The woman who gets called a “dog” repeatedly bleats “kyrie elesion” while the supposed “lost sheep” continually bark back in reply, “apolyson – get rid of her.”

Jesus doesn’t send the “dog” away, but he also refuses to let her in. He even gets in a pretty harsh lick at

her. He says it isn’t fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs. Yet this woman doggedly persists in seeking mercy. She keeps on crying “kyrie elesion” and “help me.” She keeps on kneeling before Jesus – the posture of worship. She asks Jesus for crumbs, the leftovers from the master’s table after the children are fed. Perhaps she’s aware that right before this story Jesus fed more than 5000 people. When all ate and had their fill, there were 12 baskets left over. The crumbs from this master’s table are nothing to scoff at.

As she cries for mercy, as she kneels before Jesus, as she persists in faith, the Canaanite woman looks more and more like the sheep Jesus has been sent to save. This impacts Jesus. He commends her for her faith and heals her daughter. And from this point on in the Gospel of Matthew, his ministry includes more foreigners, more outsiders.

This encounter seems to show Jesus that his flock is bigger than the people of Israel. It seems to remind him of the wideness of God’s mercy – a theme expressed in our first reading and throughout the Old Testament.

Jesus seems changed by this disturbing encounter with a foreign woman.

The same thing can happen for us. God can and does work through disturbing encounters to bring healing and change for us and our world.

So, let’s not avoid things that might disrupt us. Let’s listen to the cries for help today, to the stories that trouble us.

It’s so easy for us to feel safe and secure in our little sheepfold, isolated from the chorus of hurting and angry voices. It’s so easy for us to think the problems are caused by other people – by white supremacists and unhelpful responses to them.

But today, let’s allow ourselves to be challenged by the voices of black people crying out for their children to feel safe on the streets, crying out after centuries of not feeling secure in the fold, not having a place at the table. Sometimes, to those of us inside the gate, these voices sound threatening and scary like ravenous dogs barking. Can we hear in them lost sheep crying out for mercy? Can we see all people as lost sheep Jesus was sent to save? Even as we completely reject the words and actions of white supremacists, we cannot demonize them – they and all of us need to be saved.

Today let’s take a hard look at how we respond to people crying out in pain. Do we remain silent? Do we try to keep them out? We may not shout “apolyson” like the disciples do; we would never join a neo-Nazi rally. Yet we have so many other more subtle, but still painful, ways of shutting out hurting people and their needs.

This story invites us to listen to those cries that disturb us and then to join our voices with them saying, “kyrie elesion”. In the midst of the angry, chaotic voices we are called to use our voices to cry for mercy, to work for mercy.

This story also invites us to take a posture of dogged yet humble persistence in seeking mercy and healing. Rather than taking up posts as watchdogs against threats, we’re encouraged to kneel before the shepherd pleading for the healing of our world. We’re asked to take a stance of humility seeking to learn and understand from others. We’re called to join foreigners and outcasts seeking safe pasture and help.

All of this can push us out of our comfort zones. It can make our lives more noisy and chaotic. It can cause disturbances in our little sheepfolds. Yet, all of this can open us to the healing and mercy that God is always working for us and for our world.

O God, may we experience and share your healing and mercy. Kyrie elesion.

Let’s join our voices in crying “Kyrie elesion” by singing one petition of the Kyrie found on page 2 in your booklet.

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
August 13, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

This story has become the stuff of cliches and pop psychology. We’re critical of people who act like they walk on water, as if they can do no wrong. We worry about those who seem blind to the faults of others – “he thinks she walks on water – just wait.” When things look bleak, we lament, “We need someone who can walk on water, do the impossible, turn things around.”

This story is most often used as encouragement to take risks. The title of a popular Christian book advises, “If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat.” In the church and the larger culture, walking on water is associated with doing great things, stepping out in boldness, moving past fear.

With all that stuff in the background, we often hear this text as a whole lot of advice versus lots of lessons that we can apply to daily life:

Lesson #1 – Don’t get a big head; you can’t walk on water.

Lesson #2 – Don’t expect miracles from others, be realistic.

Lesson #3 – Peter got out of the boat, so should we.

We should step out in faith to make a difference in the world even when we’re afraid.  We should stretch to give a little more money. We should risk trying again in a difficult relationship.

Lesson #4 – Peter was fine while he kept his eyes on Jesus; we should do the same. We should focus on our spiritual lives. We should not be distracted by our fears or by things going well; we should be focused on God.

Those are all good lessons; there is wisdom there – solid advice. But the thing is, we need something much greater than advice. Events in Charlottesville, Venezuela, Jerusalem and around the world need to be met with so much more than advice. Advice doesn’t change our hard, angry, fearful hearts. Advice doesn’t bring peace when violence and hatred erupt. Advice isn’t going to get us out working for change over the long haul.

We know we should be bold and courageous but there are big storms raging out there. We know we should focus on God but there are so many other important things demanding our attention. And those winds and waves are really strong.

Even the best advice isn’t enough. In fact, advice can make things worse. The more advice we get, the greater the chances that we won’t measure up to whatever is being recommended. This can get us curved in on ourselves and our shortcomings rather than focused on God, more afraid of taking risks lest we fail again.

We need something more. Like Peter that day on the sea, we need to be saved. We need to be saved not only for life after death, but for life now. When Peter called out to Jesus, “Lord, save me,” he wasn’t talking about heaven. He was talking about the here and now. Our lives here and now need saving help, not just advice, so that we can live boldly, courageously, faithfully.

We need to be saved from the sin that holds us back us and overwhelms us.

We need to be set free from the fear that keeps us on the boat, that causes us to panic.

We need to be raised up from all that threatens to pull us underwater.

We need Jesus to save us.

We need Jesus to do what he did for the disciples that day on the Sea of Galilee. Jesus didn’t just stand on the shore and yell helpful suggestions. He came to be with them in the storm. Jesus didn’t just advise Peter to take a risk; Jesus called Peter to come out towards him. And when Peter started to sink, Jesus didn’t recommend that Peter keep looking at him; Jesus reached out his hand to lift Peter up.

We, too, need Jesus to be with us, to call us out, to lift us up.

And that is what Jesus does, again and again, each new day. Jesus is present with us and for us always as he was for those disciples in that storm. Jesus knows all of what it is to be human – he knows all the winds, waves and struggles we face, even death. Even death could not stop him from being fully present with us. The risen Christ is now everywhere with us. It is because Christ Jesus is with us so that we can follow the commands he gives in this story – to take heart and not be afraid.

Jesus also calls us out to where he is.

It isn’t that we have to take risks on our own and go into the unknown alone. Jesus is out there, too, calling us to himself. His call is what makes it possible for us to risk, to be bold, to step out in faith. Jesus calls us out into the turbulent world that God so loves, a world so in need of courageous service and leadership. And whenever we start to sink, Jesus reaches out his hand to lift us up. He raises us up through the care of others, through his words of promise and forgiveness, through the meal of his love. He lifts us up so that we, too, can lift others.

We need so much more than advice. We need saving help. Thanks be to God, Jesus Christ has come to save us each new day. His presence, his call, and his care lift us up and set us free. Because of Jesus, we can take heart and be courageous, even if we can’t walk on water.

Let’s take a moment for silent prayer.