Tag Archives: Matthew 14

Jews, Jesus, and God’s Promises [OR Longing and Wrestling with God]

sermon art: Jacob Wrestling the Angel by Edward Knippers (b. 1946), 2012 – oil on panel – 8 feet by 12 feet.

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on August 6, 2023

[sermon begins after two Bible readings]

Genesis 32:22-31 [At night Jacob] got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.23He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. 24Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. 25When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” 27So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” 28Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” 29Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. 30So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” 31The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

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

The Matthew reading of the Feeding of the 5,000 is at the end of the sermon.

 

 

[sermon begins]

I was a letter writer in middle school. I wrote to my cousin and my grandmothers and to a boy whose grandmother went to my church. He visited her occasionally. And we wrote letters. I wish I had them, those letters. Lord only knows what was in them. They are lost to time. But I would love to know what I thought was important at 13 years old, what was worth remembering and sharing. Many of the letters we used to write are long gone unless you’re a historical figure of some importance like the Apostle Paul who wrote a lot of what we consider to be the New Testament in the Christian Bible. He wrote at least seven of the thirteen letters attributed to him and the other six are likely written by his students. We wing around Paul’s name so much that sometimes I wonder if people who are new to church may not know he was a Jewish religious leader responsible for deaths of the earliest Christians. His conversion to Christianity is told in the book of Acts. It’s flashy, dramatic, and memorable – maybe even Hollywood worthy. His skills as a religious leader came in handy as he planted churches, moved on to plant another one, and started writing them letters telling them he loved them and addressing any concerns.

Paul’s letter to the Roman church became the Bible book of Romans. My Bible at home runs 15 pages for the letter to the Roman church. Imagine opening up that one back in the 1st century day. In Paul’s time, Greek writing ran together without spaces or punctuation and no chapters and verses. In our reading today from Romans 9, Paul had just finished writing that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Nothing. He then goes on to wrestle with what this means for Jews, for his people, his kindred in the flesh. Turns out that Jesus’ message wasn’t as well-received as his followers would have hoped.[1] Paul rambled but he wasn’t coming up with satisfactory answers. He wrote, “…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.” Or as Pastor Gail likes to say, “Bless their hearts.” Paul means it like she does, for real.

The Israelites, the Jews, are blessed by God. And who are they? We can get this confused too. In our times, Israel is a country. In our Bible story from the book of Genesis today, Israel is a person, a person who 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.

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.” God also makes promises to us in our baptism. God promises to be present with us in suffering and in celebration, to always take us back through forgiveness, to make us ever more Christ-shaped as disciples, and to keep these promises forever. We trust God to keep God’s promises. Like Jacob, we sometimes wrestle with God and demand to be blessed by the promises. Holding 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. Out of 8 billion people on the planet, only 15-20 million are Jews, 0.2% of the world’s population. Meanwhile there are over 2 billion Christians. We carry weight in the world – political and practical weight that impact issues of life and death. As we call the modern state of Israel to account for its treatment of Palestinians, we need to take care that we don’t paint Judaism with the broad brush of antisemitism as demands 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 people there even as we long for it.

Paul longed for full knowledge. His letters are filled with longing to see the fullness of God. 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. We get lost in our own thinking. Especially when we suffer. Last Sunday, I woke up on the ornery side of the bed. That’s an especially hard place to be as a pastor who leads worship. But, as I was telling Rob about it, I also said that this is why I need worship and singing and praying and listening (thank God Pastor Gail preached last week.) I’ve experienced it many times both as not a pastor and as a pastor where being in worship drops me into a collective longing for God’s promises to comfort and challenge us.

As Jacob wrestled for God’s blessing, we too can wrestle with God. The story before and after the part about Jacob wrestling with God and with humans is about Jacob’s fear of his brother Esau. Esau had been furious with Jacob for good reason. Jacob hoped to woo Esau into a better mood with gifts upon gifts. When Jacob limped away from his wrestling match, he was anticipating Esau’s wrath. “But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept…Jacob said, ‘…truly to see your face is like seeing the face of God.’” Let’s recap. Jacob wrestled with God and with humans, limped away with a hip out of joint towards his brother Esau who he thought wanted to kill him. Instead, they were reconnected through Esau’s forgiveness, so much so that Jacob saw the face of God in Esau’s face.

Last week, Pastor Gail preached about the invasive extravagance of God’s kingdom. This week, Paul and Jacob’s stories give us permission to wrestle and long for the abundance Jesus revealed in the feeding of the 5,000. The longing to be useful disciples who miraculously were able to do what Jesus asked them to do, and the longing to be filled as the ones who were fed. On any given day, each of our longings are different. Lately, and to no one’s surprise, I long for healing through the wisdom and hands of doctors and nurses. I wrestle more with myself than I do with God. There are signs of the kingdom and the peace of God’s promises throughout my story. But there is also fear and darkness. To say there isn’t, wouldn’t be telling the truth.

Today’s Bible readings encourage us to wrestle with God as we acknowledge our longings. What wrestling are you doing with God? What do you long for? Today is a day to trust God’s promises and to hold God accountable to them. There may be someone who is the face of God for you as Esau was for Jacob in the act of loving forgiveness. There may be a Jew who you can walk alongside as a cousin in the faith as Paul did for his people, his kinsmen in the flesh, acknowledging God’s unbreakable promise for them. There may be someone who encourages and loves you until your empty, broken heart is filled. On any given day, and maybe especially on Sundays, we help each other glimpse God’s kingdom coming near even if it’s not fully here yet.[3] May it be so. Amen.

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[1] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Sermon Brainwave Podcast for August 6, 2023.

[2] 1 Corinthians 13:12

[3] Matthew 4:17

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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. 14When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. 15When 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.” 16Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” 17They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” 18And he said, “Bring them here to me.” 19Then 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. 20And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. 21And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Sitting In The Grass [OR Small, Simple Things and Grace Beyond Our Imagination]

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on August 2, 2020

Below is the sermon that I preached in our outdoor worship today. Pastor Ron Glusenkamp preached in our online worship that can be found here: https://www.augustanadenver.org/worship/   Pastor Ron is not only the husband of Augustana’s Faith Community Nurse Sue Ann, he is the churchwide national Director of the Campaign that includes projects for ELCA World Hunger.

[sermon begins after the Bible story]

Matthew 14:13-21 Now when Jesus heard this, 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.

[sermon begins]

This week, I heard a news report about the Lipstick Index, a term coined to describe how people buy small, simple things to treat themselves during tough times.[1] Well, masks have smeared lipstick sales but nail polish sales are looking shiny. When I heard this news gem, I wondered more about how people treat themselves to small and simple things during difficult times. And then I wondered about how we treat ourselves to small, simple spiritual things. And then I wondered how often we feel the need to muster up spiritual treats from inside of ourselves as if our spiritual well-being depends solely on ourselves. I especially wonder about self-spiritual-mustering during tough times. It’s handy that our Bible reading from Matthew’s Gospel has something to say about this very thing.

Jesus feeds the 5,000 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 gets in a boat to find some deserted quiet. His pursuit of quiet is foiled by the crowds who follow him 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. Seeing the need in the crowd was gut-wrenching for Jesus. In their desperation, 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. And we see desperation in our own homes, down the street, and around the world. In particular though, the pandemic destabilizes fragile social structures that leave some people especially vulnerable. Hungry communities in certain parts of the world are being pushed into famine.[2] 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 the people as people and allow their desperation to stir our gut-wrenching compassion. This congregation has a long history of mutual ministry with ELCA World Hunger both domestically and internationally. They know what to do when it comes to feeding people as emergency response and when it comes to helping communities plan into their own self-sustaining future. We are not powerless in the face of hungry people. Even a small gift of money adds up to big possibilities in combination with gifts from other people. Join me in giving today to ELCA World Hunger at augustanadenver.org and clicking “Donate Online” [or clicking the link below if you’re reading this sermon].[3] 100% of our gifts go to hungry communities because congregations around the country pay the administrative costs. We can be instrumental in people eating dinner today.

Even closer to home, the conversation has just started to try and figure out if our annual rice and bean breakdown for Metro Caring’s food pantry will work this year.[4] It may be here in the Fellowship Hall although it would like different. Or it could be at Metro Caring’s new warehouse set up for that purpose. Stay tuned for updates as we cruise toward the second Sunday in September when we would typically celebrate “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday by separating large bags of rice and beans into household sized portions for their pantry shelves. We are not powerless in the face of hungry people. Remember that we can donate food to Metro Caring and be instrumental in people eating dinner today.[5]

One step closer to home is Augustana’s Soup Shelf, an honor system food shelf on the covered porch of our Sanctuary. Donating only canned food only food protected from nature’s critters. The motto “Leave what you can; take what you need” allows for the possibility that someone may be picking up food for themselves or for several neighbors at once. We are not powerless in the face of hungry people. Remember that we can leave canned food on the porch of the Sanctuary and be instrumental in people eating dinner today.

Speaking of people eating dinner, just before Jesus prepares dinner for thousands of his followers, he asks them to sit down on the grass. Actually, he “orders” them to sit down in the grass. This is not a happy go lucky moment for the people or for Jesus. John’s execution by the king is a public act of political theater that traumatized the people. Now they sit together in the grass for what amounts to a funeral reception. There are fish and bread and grass and each other. Instead of treating themselves, the people are treated to a moment of refreshment from Jesus. In the midst of the impossibilities, there is a moment of peace.

Here we sit outside…in the grass. We’re masked and distanced while shaded by a canopy. Nowhere near 5,000, we’re limited in numbers with registration requested. We press pause on the seeming impossibilities 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. For now, we gather when we can, in the ways we can – whether worshiping online or outside sitting in the grass. Here outside today, our communion is cradled in small condiment cups. In a few minutes, when we very briefly remove our masks, we’ll commune together at the same time before putting our masks back on. We commune in as simple way as possible. We commune in “one kind” with a wafer of bread only, pondering the mystery that in this small, simple wafer we receive the fullness of Christ’s grace, forgiveness, strength, and peace.

I hope that is what our time together here is, right now. 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 times of impossibility 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 receive. For today, there is a Sabbath invitation to stop or reduce our “doom scrolling” through the social medias or “news binging” shows on our favorite channel, as if the next bit of information is going to save us, and to surrender to Jesus’ compassion.

Surrendering to Jesus’ compassion understands that Jesus knows the trauma of losing close friends in the midst of 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 pain, surrender, hope, and joy. Following Jesus means we can surrender to his compassion for us when we don’t know where we’re headed next. Our surrender is sometimes marked by small, simple things like setting a table at home for online communion or holding ready a wafer in a condiment cup as we sit in the grass together. Hope for today is kindled and fueled as we receive grace beyond our imagination in a small, simple thing like the grace and peace of Christ in a communion wafer from the One who is, who was, and who is to come.[6] Amen.

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[1] Ailsa Chang and Ari Shapiro. “Pandemic Puts An End To The ‘Lipstick Index,’” National Public Radio: July 27, 2020. https://www.npr.org/2020/07/27/895867487/pandemic-puts-an-end-to-the-lipstick-index

[2] Lori Hinnant and Sam Mednick. “Coronavirus-Linked Hunger Tied To 10,000 Child Deaths Each Month,” HuffPost Online: July 27, 2020. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/coronavirus-hunger-child-deaths_n_5f1f7e9ac5b638cfec48e471

[3] https://www.augustanadenver.org/giving/

Start by clicking the “Donate Online” option and make sure to designate your gift for “ELCA World Hunger.” 100% of donations to ELCA World Hunger go directly to hungry people. Administrative costs are covered by donations from ELCA congregations around the country including Augustana.

[4] Learn more about Metro Caring’s ministry and/or give food or money here: https://www.metrocaring.org/

[5] Turn into Augustana’s parking lot from the west-most Alameda entrance and follow the signs to the Sanctuary porch. Augustana Lutheran Church, 5000 East Alameda Avenue, Denver, CO, 80246.

[6] Revelation 1:8.