Sunday, September 07, 2025

The Fine Print

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 18C)

Luke 14.25-33

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

 

Most of us are old enough to remember the TV ads for various medications in which, at the end of the ad, there was a voice over with the legal fine print. Invariably, it was something along the lines of “in rare instances, use of this medication may cause . . .” going on to list a variety of potential side effects, usually from lesser intensity to greater. And it seemed like all medications had the exact same potential side effects. Usually ending with such effects as heart attack, stroke, suicidal thoughts, and even death. Even medications for benign ailments included such dire warnings. To which my father would invariably quip, “Why, then, would I even consider taking this medication?”

 

That is the image I had upon reading today’s Gospel passage. That Jesus is issuing the obligatory legal fine print regarding becoming his disciple. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” And ending with “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”

 

So, let me get this straight, Jesus. If I want to become one of your disciples, I have to hate my own life, hate everyone in my family, and give up all my possessions. And not only that, I have to be willing to carry an instrument of torture and execution, with the very real possibility that I might end up on that cross myself? To paraphrase my father, “Why, then, would I even consider following you?” Jesus is not able to answer that question for his audience—then or now. At least not directly, in this encounter. Although the answer is ultimately provided through what will happen in Jerusalem, with his own encounter with the cross and his subsequent resurrection. No, everyone must answer for themselves the question of whether they are willing to follow Jesus, as we are unique individuals with our own unique circumstances. Jesus illustrates this with a couple of examples.

 

Within the pericope, Jesus uses two images. One of a landowner wanting to build a new tower but not having sufficient resources to complete it, and the second of a king wanting to go to war, necessitating an evaluation of whether he has sufficient troops to defeat his enemy. The message in both images is the same. Before entering into any decision, particularly one as serious as a major building project or going to war—or dedicating one’s life to following Jesus—one must consider the costs. The total costs. For if one is not willing or able to bear the cost of their decision, the venture is doomed to failure. In the case of the decision to follow Jesus, one must consider what is often referred to as the cost of discipleship. Can one “afford” to follow Jesus. Admittedly, the cost of discipleship is far more nebulous and perhaps harder to define than calculating the cost of a building project or determining whether one has more soldiers than one’s enemy. The costs are going to be dictated by one’s personal circumstances. And the calculation needs to include not only cost to self, but also the cost to those impacted by the decision: one’s family and broader community.

 

Jesus’ final statement in today’s reading is “So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” When it comes to making that critical decision to be a disciple, the condition of giving up all one’s possessions is about so much more than physical possessions. It is about giving up anything and everything that stands in the way of being Jesus’ disciple. It is about giving up anything that would inhibit us. Anything that would get in the way of being able to commit to following. Be that our material possessions, be that some if not all our relationships, be that our uncertainties and fears. The bottom line in Jesus’ statement is that no one can truly follow him unless they are willing and prepared to go all the way. To be all in, come what may.

 

Now, admittedly, there are some very real differences between making a decision to become Jesus’ disciple 2,000 years ago in an outpost of the Roman Empire as opposed to today in our own context. Let’s start with what Jesus said about hating family. First off, why—how—could the incarnate Son of the God of love, the physical embodiment of God’s love, possibly even suggest that we must hate others? Particularly family. The Greek word translated as hate is miseō. While miseō most directly means to hate, detest, or abhor, it can also mean to love less or to prefer something else over it. The actual meaning depends on context. In the case of Jesus’ statement about “hating” family, and given just who Jesus is and what he stands for, the implication is one of preferring or prioritizing our relationship with God over other relationships. To prioritize following Jesus over other relationships. Particularly where the demands of those relationships might come into conflict.

 

Certainly, in Jesus’ time, there was more potential for one’s decision to follow Jesus to be in direct conflict with family. Jesus’ message was radical, controversial, and, in some contexts countercultural. Choosing to follow Jesus may well have been in conflict with the religious beliefs of one’s family. Certainly, if one’s family were pagans, but even if they were devout Jews, one’s decision to go off and follow an itinerant teacher could create conflict, even being ostracized. In such conditions, one would definitely need to be willing to place following Jesus over one’s family. Today, with Christianity being the largest religion in the world, one’s decision to follow Jesus is less likely to create conflict. Possibly in some areas, but certainly less likely in the Western world. In fact, in our own nation, families of mixed religions or of a religious person and others with no religion at all are relatively common. We’ve figured out how to make it work, to minimize the conflict.

 

Even the suggestion of needing to give up possessions to follow Jesus would have had different significance in his time as opposed to ours. Those who first followed Jesus, particularly while he was still alive, lived a largely itinerant life, moving about from place to place. In such a life, one just could not easily carry and care for any possessions beyond the clothes on their back. Following Jesus would have necessitated the giving up of possessions so as to move about unincumbered. And frankly, back then, people just did not have as much stuff to begin with. Today, things are different. Aside from monastics, who do give up their possessions upon entering the monastic life and any others who willingly take a vow of poverty, the giving up of possessions is not viewed as necessary to following Jesus. Rather, the emphasis has changed. The reality is that in our contemporary society, we need resources to survive and to engage in ministry. It is more about how we use our resources than whether we have resources. The idea is more about whether having possessions becomes more important than following Jesus; whether our possessions become an impediment to our following Jesus; whether our possessions distract us from what we are called to do as disciples of Jesus.

 

As for Jesus’ statement that “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple,” the idea behind that has changed, as well. In Jesus’ own time, anyone who chose to follow him lived with the threat of the cross. Literally. The cross was a form of torture and execution reserved for non-Roman citizens who were insurrectionists. And, in the eyes of the Roman Empire at the time, Jesus’ message was counter to the values and practices of the Empire. Jesus being the Son of God was viewed as a threat to the emperor, who was viewed as being divine. All of this making him an insurrectionist in the eyes of the Empire. Just as Jesus was ultimately crucified as an insurrectionist, anyone who willingly followed him could potentially be subject to the same fate.

 

Today, we do not have to fear the threat of crucifixion because of our beliefs. For us, carrying the cross takes on a new and different meaning. It means living according to the commandments of the One who went to the cross on our behalf. The one who went to the cross so we don’t have to. It means being willing to proclaim through our words and actions the truth of who Christ is and what he has accomplished by going to the cross and then defeating death and rising to new life. That through his cross and resurrection, we have all been forgiven of our sins and assured of new and eternal life with him. Taking up our cross means devotion to proclaiming that new reality, to living that new reality.

 

So, as we take a critical look at what Jesus says about becoming his disciples, it is obvious that the conditions for being a disciple have changed over time. These changes are largely due to the fact that Jesus was talking about what it meant to follow him prior to his death and resurrection whereas we live post-resurrection. What, at the time of his original words, was a radical, countercultural message has become the largest religion in the world—countercultural though it may still be, in many ways. Moving from the margins to mainstream resulting in fundamental changes in perspective, and thereby removing some of the more extreme conditions for becoming a disciple.

 

While the specific conditions—the costs, if you will—of following Jesus have changed and even softened over time, the basic message, the fundamental purpose, of Jesus’ statements in today’s Gospel remains unchanged. We do not take the decision to follow Jesus lightly. In choosing to become his disciple, we are to do so wholeheartedly, fully committing to the cause. Fully committing to living the Gospel, to proclaiming that Gospel in our words and actions. In so doing, we are to not allow anything else, be it relationships or possessions or any other allegiances, to get in the way of or conflict with our calling to be a disciple. Which means, we still, as Jesus cautions, need to carefully consider the cost of being his disciple. To consider whether we feel we can truly afford to follow him. But, then again, given what we have gained through him, through his death and resurrection, can we afford not to follow him?

 

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Sunday, August 31, 2025

Humility and Hospitality

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 17C)

Luke 14.1, 7-14

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

 

I’m sure Emily Post is rolling in her grave. “What do you mean people are just sitting wherever they want at a wedding reception? That’s madness! Utter chaos! That’s why you use place cards. Tastefully done with hand calligraphy, of course.” And by the way, it should come as no surprise that Emily Post was an Episcopalian. Everything in proper order, just as God intended.

 

Yes, Emily Post, Miss Manners, and all the self-proclaimed experts on proper social etiquette would have a field day with the scene we witness in today’s Gospel. Jesus is attending a wedding banquet hosted by a leader of the local Pharisees. While everything is ready for the banquet, there are no place cards nor publicly displayed seating charts to indicate where guests are to sit. That is not to say there is not a seating plan at such events. The problem was, that schema was pretty subjective. This was an “honor and shame” culture—in which identity and social standing are tied to the family and community; where one’s actions are perceived as bringing honor or shame not only upon themselves but also upon their entire group, be it family or community. In such cultures, one’s social standing was incredibly important. And in many situations, including social situations, one’s standing dictated such things as where one sat at banquets. There was enough subjectivity involved in the identification of standing and honor that, at times, there could be conflicting perceptions among attendees. And certainly, in a situation such as a banquet, it was understood that the host had the ultimate say in who he viewed as having greater honor in his own home. Or at least, in that particular situation. Those of higher honor were seated closer to the host and the head table. Really, not unlike in many of our own banquet situations. But at least we generally have place cards to guide us.

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Sunday, August 24, 2025

Formed, Called, and Consecrated

 Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 16C)

Jeremiah 1.4-10

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

 

Sometimes I get the feeling God is messing with me. Not in a mean-spirited way, but in a playful way. That was certainly the feeling I got when I first read the Old Testament passage from the Prophet Jeremiah earlier this week. The opening words of today’s reading have long held special meaning for me in my own spiritual journey:

 

            “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

            And before you were born I consecrated you”

 

But it was not just these words that made me feel like God was toying with me. It was reading these words in light of my sermon from last week. As I’m sure you all recall in vivid detail, last Sunday I quoted another passage from Jeremiah as an example of how fire is used as an image for passion—passion for ministry—in the Scriptures:

 

“Within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (Jer 20.9)

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Sunday, August 17, 2025

Bringing Fire to the Earth

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 15C)

Isaiah 5.1-7; Hebrews 11.29—12.2; Luke 12.49-56

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

 

“Jesus said, ‘I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! . . . Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!’”

 

Great! I come back from Sabbatical and am immediately confronted with having to preach on some of Jesus’ more controversial words. To preach on a message that is completely contrary to who we view Jesus to be. Who we profess Jesus to be. Who we know Jesus to be. It’s enough to make me want to head back out the door and back to Sabbatical. To go back to a more peaceful and comfortable time where I did not have to deal with controversy, with difficult Gospel messages, with the challenges they present.

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Sunday, April 27, 2025

In-Between Times

Second Sunday of Easter

John 20.19-31

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

 

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

The Lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

 

With this being the last Sunday I will be with you for 111 days—but who’s counting?—I find that I view today’s Gospel reading in a new light. We hear this particular story every year on the Sunday after Easter Day. The story that has come to bear the erroneous and unfortunate monicker of “Doubting Thomas.” How many times can one preach on and seek to debunk the implication that Thomas lacked faith? I state emphatically, he did not. On this particular day, which by my reckoning is about the 17th or 18th time I have preached this Gospel, I welcome viewing this story through the lens of my—of our—impending Sabbatical. Hopefully giving new insight into what was going on with Thomas and the remaining disciples during those early days following Christ’s Resurrection. And, in so doing, offering a perspective with which we might view this time of Sabbatical we begin as of tomorrow.

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Sunday, April 20, 2025

A Tale of Two Resurrections

Easter Day

John 20.1-20

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

Live Streamed on Parish Facebook page

 

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

The Lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

 

We have just heard John’s account of what happened on Easter morning. While there are differences in specific details, each of the Gospels tell basically the same story. How on Easter morning, women go to Jesus’ tomb and find it empty. Each account unfolding to reveal something about the resurrection and about the Risen Lord. John’s account, while also accomplishing this, goes one step further. This account takes a deeper dive into the responses the disciples have upon finding the tomb empty and the resulting effect of the resurrection on those closest to Jesus. Thereby providing a means by which we might view our own responses to the resurrection and its effect on us and our lives of faith.

 

While the Gospel account we just heard is most definitely a unified whole, in some ways, it is actually two stories. Each with its own response to the resurrection. Responses and reactions which are very different from each other, and yet are held in tension with one another; one flowing from the other. The juxtaposition of the two informing how we ourselves might view and relate to such a mysterious and unexplainable event. Explaining how such a mysterious and unexplainable event as the resurrection is, nonetheless, the centerpiece of our religion, of our collective and individual lives of faith.

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Friday, April 18, 2025

Boldness

Good Friday

Isaiah 52.13—53.12; Hebrews 4.14-16, 5.7-9; John 18.1—19.42

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

Live Streamed on Parish Facebook page

 

Our liturgical commemorations for Holy Week are bracketed with an extended reading of the Passion Narrative. On Palm Sunday, also known as Passion Sunday, we hear the Passion Narrative from one of the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, or Luke, depending on the year). This year it was Luke. Then, on Good Friday, we always hear the Passion Narrative from the Gospel according to John. While the substantial facts of the narratives are the same, there are differences (aside from the timeframe reported). I specifically refer to differences in how the actual Passion is portrayed: Jesus’ arrest, the trials before temple authorities and Pontius Pilate, and his crucifixion.

 

Comparing the Synoptic accounts (primarily Luke) with John’s version of the Passion reveals some stark differences. Not so much in the chain of events and details surrounding those events. After all, these are reported by different people viewing events from different perspectives; and even then, based on second-, third-, or fourth-hand accounts. So differences in reported details are understandable. And generally speaking, they are all consistent. With one significant exception. That is in how Jesus comports himself throughout his Passion. How he behaves and particularly how he responds, throughout. That difference is telling.

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Sunday, April 06, 2025

Circling the Wagons

Fifth Sunday in Lent (Year C)

John 12.1-8

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

Live Streamed on Parish Facebook page (beginning at 14:35)

 

Sometimes being a loving, caring community takes its toll. On those charged with the leadership and care of the community, as well as on the individual members comprising that community. This is something we are currently experiencing here at St. Gregory’s. In the space of 26 days—not even a whole month—we have experienced the loss of five beloved members of our community. Two of those occurring just this past week, on Wednesday and Thursday. This in a week in which we also had the funeral service for David Feit-Pretzer, our previous, long-time organist and music director, and the first of those to die just four weeks ago. Even though some of these dearly departed may not have been known to many of you, the collective loss experienced by those who did know them, and the resulting collective loss experienced by the parish community, is numbing. Each subsequent death adding to the cumulative numbness. Each subsequent death subtracting from the vitality of the community. I feel it acutely. And I know a number of you do, as well. Questioning, what is happening here? Not that there is any real answer. And yet, in times like this, in times of even one loss, let alone so many, we seek something to help us cope. Something to help us get through the grief, the sorrow, the sense of being diminished as a body, and the resulting sense of numbness and disbelief.

 

Today’s Gospel reading just happens to provide some insight, some guidance. A healing balm, not unlike the perfume Mary uses to anoint Jesus’ feet.

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Sunday, March 23, 2025

Opportunity for Repentance

Third Sunday in Lent (Year C)

Luke 13.1-9

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

Live Streamed on Parish Facebook page (beginning at 27:40)

 

Why do bad things happen? Such a broad and complex topic. Of course, the answer—if there even is a correct answer—depends on perspective. Depends on the lens through which one chooses to evaluate the particular circumstances of any given situation. As our understanding of the universe has increased, the range of possible answers seem to broaden rather than narrow. The whole notion of quantum physics alone throws such a monkey wrench into the works that an absolute answer may never be found.

 

For the ancients, with a much simpler worldview—and even for many in our own day—the answer is clear. Bad things happen because the gods—or, in our case, the One God—was angry. Bad things happen because of God’s wrath. Suffering was often viewed as punishment for sin. Even when bad things happened to those who were apparently good and righteous, there must have been some hidden sin, some unknown transgression, that was being punished. And in some cases, if there was no actual transgression, the punishment must have been for a sin committed by a parent or ancestor or other relative. Right in Exodus, when God gives the Ten Commandments to Moses, God specifically says, “I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquities of parents, to the third and fourth generations of those who reject me” (Ex 20.5b). Although, this is also countered elsewhere in Scripture. And yet, this perspective continued—and continues—in a generalized form, of suffering being the wages for sin.

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Sunday, March 09, 2025

Lenten Exam

First Sunday in Lent (Year C)

Luke 4.1-13

St. Gregory’s, Long Beach

Live Streamed on Parish Facebook page (beginning at 33:10)

 

This is the first Sunday in our annual Lenten journey. The forty-day duration is meant to call to mind two other significant “forties” in Scripture. The first is the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness being tempted and tested by the devil—the account of which we just heard in our Gospel reading. A period which, itself, is meant to call to mind the second of the “forties”: the forty years the Hebrews wandered in the wilderness following their liberation from slavery in Egypt, as they made their way to the Promised Land.

 

There are two common themes—maybe more, but we will focus on two—between Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness and the Hebrews’ forty years in the wilderness. The first is the commonality of the duration: forty—be it days or years. In ancient scripture, forty was a shorthand way of indicating a long time. Generally, a long period that was meant to be transitional, even transformational. A time in preparation for something new.

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