Category: Midrash

Living in the New

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Sermon for Sunday, December 14, 2025 || Advent 3A || Matthew 11:2-11

Imagine with me the imprisoned John the Baptist in the days before his execution. He has sent his disciples to ask Jesus the question from today’s Gospel reading, and they have just returned with Jesus’ answer.

My days are numbered, my friends. Herod is weak. He’s a petty ruler susceptible to the whims and flattery of those around him. One of these days I fear someone I have angered with my words will sway Herod to kill me and that will be that. But until that day comes, I will do everything I can to help you live into the new reality that is happening all around us. You will not be left orphaned when I am gone. I have only ever been a caretaker, a herald for the one who is coming after me. Because of what you just told me, I am convinced more than ever that Jesus is that one.

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With My Arms Spread Wide (updated)

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Sermon for Sunday, March 16, 2025 || Lent 2C || Luke 13:31-35

The world is a heavy place right now, and my last several sermons have been quite heavy in response. So today, I’d like to return to an imaginative space with a story sermon, the kind that I offer once or twice a year. Please imagine with me a letter written by Simon the Pharisee some years after the events described in this morning’s Gospel reading.

Simon, a servant of the Lord God, to Judith, my dearest sister and confidant: Peace to you and your house.

I know you think I only write to you when I need advice, but in this case, I write with a more urgent need. Yesterday in the marketplace something happened that shook me to my bones and caused me to let go of a secret I have been holding onto so very tightly for years. I need to tell you the truth about myself before you hear others slander me. I hope after you read these words you do not think less of me; rather, I hope you might consider joining me in my new-found freedom.

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The Bedtime Story (Updated)

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Sermon for Tuesday, December 24, 2024 || Christmas Eve || Luke 2:1-20

Imagine with me a quiet moment when Jesus’ mother Mary and Mary Magdalene have gone for a walk together by the Sea of Galilee. The Ascension has come and gone, and they are missing Jesus. So Mary Magdalene asks his mother to tell her a story from Jesus’ childhood. Mary ponders for a moment and then begins:

As a boy, Jesus had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t afraid of the dark or of monsters under his bed. He just had so much energy. Even a day full of running up hills and building rock forts couldn’t tire him out. When he couldn’t sleep, I would sing him a lullaby and run my fingers through his hair. Sometimes, after a few notes, he’d say, “Not tonight, Mama. Tell me the story instead.” The story. I was always glad when he asked me to tell him how he was born because, when the story remained silent in my heart, it always threatened to transform into a dream and vanish.

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The Christmas Pageant (Taylor’s Version)

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I wrote the dialogue and lyrics for this new Christmas Pageant, which kids from my church performed yesterday on the Fourth Sunday of Advent. It was a blast! (And, obviously, despite the assertion in the first paragraph, the real Taylor didn’t help us – but her music did.) Here’s the video of the pageant, followed by the script.

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The Unbroken Circle

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Sermon for Sunday, September 22, 2024 || Proper 20B || Mark 9:30-37
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Imagine with me the memories of the Apostle Peter, near the end of his life, thinking back to that day in Capernaum that is described in our Gospel reading this morning.

We didn’t think Jesus could hear us on the road. He was lagging behind us, chatting with people who had come in from the countryside to see him. Only Philip, his self-appointed bodyguard, had hung back with Jesus. The rest of us were hungry and eager to get to my house, where they knew my mother-in-law would put out a fabulous spread. But for the moment, our hunger and exhaustion had gotten the better of us, and a stupid argument broke out. We argued about which one of us was the greatest of Jesus’ disciples. I thought I had a pretty good claim on the title, given that I was always by Jesus’ side, but so were the sons of Zebedee. Others thought it might be Thomas for his devotion or James the Zealot for his zeal. Bartholomew, ever the jokester, voted for Jesus’ shadow because it followed him everywhere.

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I Will Be With You

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Sermon for Sunday, September 3, 2023 || Proper 17A || Exodus 3:1-15

After such a heady and confusing sermon last Sunday, I thought today would be a good time for something completely different. About twice a year, I preach from the perspective of a character in the scripture. Today, I am going to be Moses. Please imagine with me Moses near the end of his life, talking to his protege Joshua, who is fretting about taking on the role of leader upon Moses’s death.

“I will be with you.” That’s what God promised me all those years ago. “I will be with you.” The memory is as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. God spoke to me, called me to my life’s work, and made me that singular promise: “I will be with you.”

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Not Running

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Sermon for Sunday, July 2, 2023 || Proper 8A || Genesis 22:1-14

I looked at my sermon archive, and I haven’t preached on the story of Abraham and Isaac since my first year at St. Mark’s. This story is among the strangest and most uncomfortable stories in the Bible. It’s easy to ignore this story, to skip over it, or trim it from the Bible because it doesn’t seem to fit our vision of God. But the truth of the matter is that this story is there; every Bible includes Genesis Chapter 22. So the question for us is how do we encounter this story that makes us recoil and squirm in our seats.

Well, I don’t want you to set your expectations too high about this sermon, because there’s a good chance that by the time I’m done talking this morning, you’ll still be recoiling and squirming in your seats. But I have to say – nine years ago, when I first attempted to preach about this passage, I found myself reading and re-reading it and discovering some beautiful truth in the midst of the disturbing story.

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The Vision

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Sermon for Sunday, February 19, 2023 || Last Epiphany A || Matthew 17:1-9

Imagine with me the disciple Peter near the end of his life, reflecting back on that surprising journey up the mountain that we just heard in today’s Gospel reading. He’s speaking to a group of young followers of Jesus, who have just asked him to recall something about his days with Jesus and the other disciples.

Jesus knew I wasn’t a big fan of hiking. We walked everywhere, so why would I want to walk during my free time, too? I suppose that’s what growing up around boats does for you. Not a lot of places to walk around on a small fishing boat, and that’s just fine with me. But Jesus – Jesus loved to walk. He told me once he loved to walk because his mother walked all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem while he was still in her womb. And when he went hiking, he thought of her. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about today. How you all let me wander.

Jesus convinced me to go on a hike once with him, James, and John. They were fishermen too, but they liked hiking more than I did. I agreed because I never wanted to be too far from Jesus, no matter what we did. Less than a week earlier, he had told us what was going to happen to him, and I was dead set against letting anyone hurt him. So I went along as more of a bodyguard than a willing participant. Well, Jesus had quite the hike in mind. This wasn’t just a stroll by the seashore. We went straight up a mountain. My knees were killing me by the time we reached the top. The view was nice, but not worth the effort. And my knees still had to make it down again.

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Joseph’s Letter

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Sermon for Sunday, December 11, 2022 || Advent 4A || Matthew 1:18-25

Imagine with me a letter written by Joseph to his father on the night Joseph had the dream of the angel that today’s Gospel reading narrated.

Joseph, eldest son and protégé, to Jacob, my father, mentor, and confidant: Blessings and peace to you, my mother, and my brothers and sisters.

By the time you read this letter, I will have left home. I awoke in the still hours of the night to write it, and I imagine that when I leave, the sun will be many hours from rising. I hope someday you will welcome me back into this house. I know it will not be tomorrow or the next day. But someday, I hope.

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