Matthew 21:33-46, Isaiah 5:1-7

Let’s imagine we are in a Bible study group.  We might begin by recalling what we know of landlord tenant law.  This provides that a land owner may allow another person, called the tenant, to use the owner’s land as if it were their own.  In exchange for this privilege, the tenant agrees to pay the owner of the land some fraction of what the land produces; for instance, 10%.  We might also recall that in this case the landowner not only gave the tenants the use of his land, the owner also, most generously, put in some capital improvements, so that the tenants would have a head start in making a go of their enterprise.  For instance, he owner erected a fence to keep out predators; the owner put in a wine press to make it easier to squeeze the grapes; and the owner even built a watch tower so the tenants could oversee their entire operation.

Matthew 20:1-16, Exodus 16:2-15

A friend sent me this quotation.  Someone else wrote it to him.  “I was a Roman Catholic boy.  I married a Presbyterian/Baptist girl who tried to be a Roman Catholic, but the vaccination didn’t take.  Right now I don’t know what I am.  Doctrine, rigidity, superstitions have gotten in my way.”  This is what I want to preach on this morning, because I have heard something like that many times.  It is the main reason people turn away from religion — doctrine, rigidity, and superstitions.

Matthew 18:21-35

Don’t you find it amazing that on the tenth anniversary of 9/11 the Gospel reading should be about forgiveness?  The list of offenses we have to forgive scarcely ends.  We could name the horror of the massive killing, the terror and grief inflicted, the sense of vulnerability and distrust we now live with, the searing confrontation with evil, the loss of direction for us as a nation, the catastrophic destruction, the on-going health issues, the loss of our innocence, for some, even the loss of faith.  If Jesus calls seventy-seven the upper limit of the number of times we should forgive, we can get well above this with 9/11.

Matthew 16:13-20

This was a turning point in Matthew’s Gospel.  It was a turning point in Jesus’ journey with his disciples.  It was a turning point in the lives of the disciples.  Possibly it will be a turning point in our own lives.

Picture the Jordan River Valley.  The river rises in the north on the slopes of Mt. Hermon and flows south to the Dead Sea.  Jesus has been heading north, teaching his followers as they went along, forming them spiritually.  They climb the slopes of Mt. Hermon to Caesarea Philippi.  From there they can scan the valley, and trace the way they have come.  I picture them sitting on a rocky outcropping, gazing out at the view, reflecting on their journey.

Matthew 14:22-33

Some readers dismiss this Gospel story.  Either they do not believe Peter walked on water, or they don’t believe they, themselves, ever could.  Such faith is beyond their reach, they think, beyond even striving for, so what’s the point?  Well, there is a point, and to get at it I want to tell you another story.

Matthew 13:31-33,44-52

Jesus was having a field day with this string of similes. The kingdom of heaven, he said, is like a mustard seed. Initially, you can scarcely tell it from a grain of sand, but then it grows exponentially, to the point where it supports and shelters other lives. Or – another window into the same mystery – the kingdom of heaven is like yeast. It grows in secret, gradually transforming its host. Or again, the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field – content and container, so to speak. You can have the content – the kingdom of heaven — but you have to take the container along with it, and it will cost you everything. Also, the kingdom of heaven is like a pearl. It is absolutely pure and beautiful, and more valuable than everything else you own put together. You can hold on to one or the other, but not both. Finally, he said, the kingdom of heaven is like a net. It gathers us all up without exception.

Zechariah 9:9-12; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

The Fourth of July celebrates ambiguity. On the one hand we thrill to the beauty of fireworks; yet on the other hand they stand for bombs bursting in air, and all the suffering they cause. What is it then? A day of celebration or a day of mourning? Can it be both?

Many people, including Christians reason as follows. You cannot stop violence by practicing violence. Slaughtering people is not the way to peace. War never solves problems; it only leads to further crises down the road. And today’s readings support this point of view.

John 20:19-31

Two weeks ago a few of us visited the nesting site of dozens of herons. They had pitched their nests in the topmost branches of trees that stood tall and dead in a broad marsh. Every few minutes a heron would appear in the sky and then glide to its nest. It struck me, though, that they never approached the nest directly, but always in a wide spiral. That is how I want to approach today’s Gospel, spiraling in on it, ultimately to hatch the question, what is doubting Thomas really asking for?

Matthew 6:24-34

 

Why can we not serve two masters? Lots of people hold down two jobs. What says they cannot like both bosses, and like them equally? What is Jesus getting at when he says no person can serve two masters? I want to approach this question with a story from the book of Exodus. You remember how Moses led the people of Israel out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and on out into the desert, bound for the Promised Land. After about three months on their journey they came to Mt. Sinai, where they stopped and camped while Moses went up on the mountain to receive God’s commandments. At one point the people became anxious, because Moses had been gone a long time. They asked Moses’s brother Aaron to make them some gods to lead them, and Aaron fashioned a golden calf. Then the people began to worship it. Meanwhile, up on the mountain, God told Moses what was going on down in the camp and Moses rushed down to confront Aaron and the people with their idolatry.

Matthew 5:13-20

 

With political boils breaking around the Middle East, Israel looks vulnerable indeed. Israel receives a lot of ill-will, as do Jews elsewhere, most of it unwarranted and all of it disproportionate. Christians have fueled that animosity for 2,000 years. Today’s Gospel invites us to look at the relationship between Christianity and Judaism, and gives us a chance to set straight a colossal misunderstanding that has fed anti-Semitism for far too long.