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Preaching, Sermons

A Moment of Peace in the Cultural Chaos

Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on August 2, 2026

[sermon begins after two Bible readings]

Matthew 14:13-21 Now when Jesus heard [about the beheading of John the Baptist,] he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. 14 When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. 15 When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” 16 Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” 17 They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” 18 And he said, “Bring them here to me.” 19 Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and blessed and broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. 20 And all ate and were filled, and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. 21 And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Romans 9:1-5  I am speaking the truth in Christ—I am not lying; my conscience confirms it by the Holy Spirit—2 I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. 3 For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own brothers and sisters, my own flesh and blood. 4 They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; 5 to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Christ, who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.

[sermon begins]

We connect with each other in the blink of an eye. Texts, emails, DMs, and pings fire from our fingertips. Phone calls fly across the planet. Our lightning-fast connections mute the handwritten letters of past centuries and millennia, slow boats and snail mail. Most letters are long gone, wisps of paper more fragile than our bodies. That is, unless you’re a historical figure like the Apostle Paul who wrote a lot of the letters included in the New Testament of the Christian Bible.

We wing around Paul’s name with so much respect that it’s hard to remember that he was a 1st century Jewish religious leader responsible for deaths of the earliest Christians. He held the coats while they were stoned. Paul’s conversion to Christianity is told in the book of Acts. It’s flashy, dramatic, and memorable – maybe even Hollywood worthy as he was blinded by the light, heard the voice of Jesus, and scales fell from his eyes to regain sight. Instead of killing Christians, Paul began planting churches. He wrote letters to these new churches, telling them he loved them, quieting their concerns, and reminding them about God’s promises in Jesus.

Paul’s letter to the Roman church became the Bible book of Romans. In our reading from Romans today, Paul had just finished writing the promise that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Nothing. He then wrestled with what this means for Jews, for his people, his kindred in the flesh.

As Paul wrestled, he rambled, “…my kindred according to the flesh; they are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them according to the flesh, comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed forever, amen.”

Thousands of years ago, the Israelites, who were later called Jews, were blessed by God. Who were they to Paul? In our times, Israel is a country. In our Bible’s book of Genesis, Israel is a person, a person whose name was changed from Jacob after he wrestled “with God and with humans and prevailed.” From the Hebrew people freed from Pharoah by Moses, to the people Israel named after Jacob, to the Jews – generations of people to whom God made promises, promises in the form of a covenant through which the whole world would be blessed through a new covenant that includes everyone.[1]

In Lutheran Christianity, we talk about God’s promises quite a bit. At the communion table, we hear God’s promise through Jesus as the “new covenant in my blood.” We trust God to keep God’s promises and hold God accountable for the promises God has made. God’s promises are forever. Paul could have argued that Christianity is over and against Judaism, but HE DIDN’T. For good reason. Paul knew that either God keeps God’s promises or God isn’t trustworthy to keep any promises. The new covenant is an extension of the covenant that God made with the Jews, not erasure.

God’s promised covenant with the Jews matters today as much as it ever has. Antisemitism is the word that describes hatred for Jews and antisemitism is on the rise all around the world and here at home in Denver. How we talk about our Christian faith becomes a matter of life and death for our Jewish family, friends, and neighbors. As we call the modern state of Israel to account for its war against the Palestinians, we need to take care that we don’t paint Judaism with the broad brush of antisemitism as demands rightly escalate for peace in that region. It’s very complicated and it’s all too real with Palestinian and Jewish people’s lives at stake. We work for peace with Jews and Palestinians even as we long for it.

Paul longed for full knowledge. His letters are filled with longing to see the God’s promises fulfilled. In another letter he writes about being human as seeing through a mirror dimly.[2] We simply cannot see the big picture. Every so often we get glimpses of it, but our human highs and lows distract us. Matthew’s Gospel reading today is a case in point.

Jesus feeds the more than 5,000 children, women, and men in the story immediately following the gruesome beheading of John the Baptist at King Herod’s dinner party. After he gets the news of John’s death, Jesus’ pursuit of quiet is foiled by the crowds who follow his boat on foot around the water’s edge. When he goes ashore and sees the people, he’s filled with compassion. The Greek work for “compassion” here means that he felt for them deep in his belly. The crowd’s desperation was gut-wrenching for Jesus. In their distress, they had followed him to a deserted place. Perhaps they too were grieving and even afraid after John’s murder. At the very least, it was a tumultuous time for Jesus followers.

As 21st century Jesus followers, we are learning a thing or two about our own tumultuous times. We feel our own grief and fear. Desperation is in our own homes, down the street, and around the world. Fragile social structures are destabilized and leave some people especially vulnerable. It’s tempting to look away because the despair is heart breaking and our emotional resources feel maxed. But we can also pause and see people as people and allow desperation to stir our gut-wrenching compassion.

Augustana’s Soup Shelf was born out of such need and compassion during the pandemic. The honor system food shelf on the covered porch of our Sanctuary feeds people in our own congregation as well as neighbors in the community. We leave canned food on the porch of the Sanctuary and are instrumental in people eating today. You can bring canned food to share or take food to eat.

When Jesus prepares food for thousands of children, women, and men, he takes, blesses and breaks the loaves of bread before giving them to the people. This is not a serene summer picnic for the people or for Jesus. John’s execution by the king is a public act of political theater that traumatized the people. They sit together in what amounts to a funeral reception of fish and bread and each other. The people are treated to a meal from Jesus using the language of holy communion—bread taken, blessed, broken, and given. Amid the cultural chaos, there is a moment of peace fed by God’s promises.

We also pause in the cultural chaos of our time to simply be together and to receive. I’m sure that I’m not the only one who needs the reminder that we don’t muster up all that we need spiritually from inside of ourselves. It’s easy to either get caught up in the myth of the rugged individual or to curl up in despair when left to our own devices. Today, in bread and wine we’ll receive the fullness of Christ’s grace, forgiveness, strength, and peace.

A moment of peace when we’re reminded that Jesus turns to the desperate crowd and has compassion for them. Just as Jesus turns to us in these impossible times and has compassion for us – for our humanity, for our noise, and for the mess we find ourselves in. Jesus reminds us to sit, to pause, to eat, and to remember how important it is to give and to receive.

For today, you are invited to receive Jesus’ compassion. Jesus who knows the trauma of losing close friends amid political chaos. He knows the instinct to find quiet in a deserted place when bad things happen. He is the Word made flesh who experienced surrender, pain, hope, and joy. Following Jesus means we can receive his compassion for us when we don’t know what to do next. Sometimes, it’s enough that we set a table at home for communion via livestream or we hold our hands out to receive God’s promise in bread and wine. Hope for today is kindled and fueled as we receive God’s promises beyond our imaginings in the small, simple things of bread and wine from Jesus—the who is, who was, and who is to come.[3] Thanks be to God and amen.

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[1] Genesis 12:1-3

[2] 1 Corinthians 13:12

[3] Revelation 1:8

Preaching, Sermons

Jesus Sees First [OR Mary Magdalene is Always Worth Celebrating] John 20:1-2, 11-18 and John 6:1-21

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on July 28, 2024

[sermon begins after two Bible readings]

John 20:1-2, 11-18 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; 12and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

John 6:1-21 Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. 2A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. 3Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. 4Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. 5When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” 6He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. 7Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” 8One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, 9“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” 10Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. 11Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. 12When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” 13So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. 14When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”
15When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.
16When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, 17got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. 18The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. 19When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. 20But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” 21Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.

[sermon begins]

What’s it like to find yourself in a conversation about a topic you were sure about only to discover that you were wrong or didn’t have all the facts? Or a discussion in which someone challenges your idea with a better idea? Letting go of what we think we know is rarely easy. But the church, as in the church catholic (with a little c), starting with the earliest disciples, is one long example of letting go of what we think we know. The disciples with Jesus the day that he fed the 5,000 were sure that they knew the situation and that they couldn’t solve it. There was no way that thousands of people could be fed with the food available in that boy’s lunch box. They just couldn’t see how it could be done. But Jesus being who Jesus was, was the first to see it all. He could see the hungry people. He could see the confused disciples who needed instruction. He could see the boy’s lunch of fish and loaves. Jesus could see the abundance when his people only saw scarcity. He could see it all and he could see it first. Jesus included his confused disciples in the action. Some of us have trouble hosting 5 people for dinner. 5,000 people is hard to imagine. No wonder the crowd tried to make Jesus their king. Someone that capable of feeding them must belong on the throne. But Jesus’ coronation was of a different sort – a coronation with a crown of thorns at his crucifixion.

At Jesus’ crucifixion, there was one person mentioned in all four Gospel stories.[1] Mary Magdalene was there, named individually in the Bible stories alongside several other women. While Judas betrayed and Peter denied Jesus, the image of a resolute Mary Magdalene is compelling.[2] She was a Jesus follower, a disciple with unwavering presence at the worst of times. Jesus, their rabbi and friend was not completely abandoned at the cross. Mary Magdalene was there. The four gospels also include her in each of the resurrection stories – sometimes solo and sometimes with other women. In our First Reading this morning from John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene was in the garden by herself wondering where Jesus was. She asked the gardener where he was. But Jesus being who Jesus was, was the first to see it all. He could see Mary. He could see her confusion. He could see her devotion. He could see her discipleship. He could see it all and he saw her first. He called her by name to do what he knew she could do. Jesus sent her tell his brothers about what was happening. Jesus could see it first, before Mary could even identify him in the garden.

The church over the years couldn’t see her the way that Jesus did. He was the one who healed her from seven demons.[3] She followed him through his ministry, death, and resurrection. Mary Magdalene’s story was one that the church couldn’t see. They bundled the stories in which her full name appeared with other stories of other Marys and sometimes added non-Mary stories about unnamed women, too. Folklore and fiction writers also combine to romanticize her when scripture doesn’t say anything in that regard. Recent scholarship in the past half-century has teased apart this amalgamated Mary. Mary Magdalene is celebrated every year on July 22 as the apostle to the apostles, a messenger sent by the risen Christ to proclaim his good news. It’s hard to pass up a chance to talk about her, a powerful preacher who speaks to us today from foot of the cross, from the garden of the empty tomb, and from her own healed experience.

When Jesus sees first what the church cannot see for ourselves, it takes faith to imagine that things look different through his imagination. Figuring out what’s on Jesus’ mind as our minds open to change takes all of us as the church. I mean all of us across God’s whole church, the church catholic. The church catholic, the wide tent of Christianity, is a tangle of dogma, emotions, faith, hope, love, and all the rest. The church is complicated because people are complicated. We want to see what we want to see in scripture and in our lives, and ignore the rest. But Jesus doesn’t leave us there. Jesus sees us first.

Last week, Augustana’s staff had a half-day retreat complete with an organizational consultant. Because of everyone’s summer travel, there was only one day this summer that we could get together with at least those of us who work together in the building during the week. That day was July 23, the day after Mary Magdalene’s feast day. With recent staff changes and additions, including my new call with Augustana, it made sense to take some time together this summer and regroup. Some of our time was food and fellowship. Sue Ann and Ron Glusenkamp hosted us at their home. Ron baked cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Each of us brought something for the potluck lunch. Some of the retreat included typical retreaty exercises. Some of it was comfortable and some of it was uncomfortable but much of it taught us things about ourselves and each other as a staff team trying to steward our gifts, skills, and relationships for the good of Augustana. And by “the good of Augustana,” I mean for the good of the gospel. It takes time to see what Jesus sees first. It takes cooperative thinking and listening to make sure that each voice is heard. It takes ideas and opinions stretching and evolving with new information about each other. It takes trust and faith in Jesus who calls the church toward reckless grace and radical welcome.

It’s inspiring that Bible stories open us to the possibility of seeing something different than we expect to see. Or maybe it’s scary. Or maybe it’s both inspiring and scary to try to see as Jesus sees. Mary Magdalene had her eyes opened through hearing her name spoken by Jesus. He sent her on a new task. Her role as a quiet, resolute presence during his life and death was shifted by the resurrected Jesus who called her to announce his resurrection to his brothers. Feeding the 5,000 people with Jesus, his disciples and the boy had their imagination expanded towards God’s abundance revealed by the work they did together that day.

It takes time and togetherness as the Augustana congregation to even begin to see what Jesus might see first. As we say at the end of each worship service this summer, “Go in peace. You are the body of Christ.” This means that we, the church, are the risen body of Christ in the world. That’s empowering and terrifying. Pure grace and a daunting responsibility. Our individuality weaves together as Jesus calls each of our names as he called to Mary Magdalene. Called to proclaim a risen Christ who combines our experiences and faith to build the church for the sake of the world. A risen Christ who we see in each other, hear from each other, and wonder about together. We live in a world that makes almost everything a transaction. But grace cannot be bought. It’s unconditional. Love holds self, love holds us, to a higher standard and extends to others through the faith that Jesus first bestows in love. Given the magnitude of the love, receive this blessing given to us in the letter to the Ephesians:

“I pray that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.” Amen.

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[1] Matthew 27:55-56, Mark 15:40, Luke 23:49, and John 19:25

[2] Cynthia Bourgeault, The Meaning of Mary Magdalene: Discovering the Woman at the Heart of Christianity. (Massachusetts: Shambhala, 2010), 16.

[3] Luke 8:2 and Mark 16:9

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Ephesians 3:14-21 For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, 15from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. 16I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, 17and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. 18I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
20Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, 21to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen