Monthly Archives: September 2025

On Rituals and Faith…

24 Wednesday Sep 2025

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I grew up in a time where watching TV meant sitting down with my family at a TV at a scheduled time of a show (though eventually with the ability to record a show and watch it later).  The experience is somewhat foreign to my and my family’s patterns now, with so many on-demand options and individual devices, not to mention increased prices at movie theaters. 

That’s why I’ve been especially grateful this summer and fall with some “old school” experiences with my kids.  My older child and I started watching a show several years ago that released its final season this summer.  However, unlike shows who release seasons in bulk, this one released the episodes one at a time.  We found ourselves dissecting each episode, wondering what would happen next week, making “dates” to sit down together and watch.  Meanwhile, our local movie theater is re-airing a movie series in the theaters – one movie each week for eight weeks.  The movies are based on books my younger child and I have read, and we’ve been able to have our own set of dates, recalling favorite moments, making connections she hadn’t noticed before now that she’s read most of the books.  It’s been a delightful source of joy for both of us.

Having these experiences has made me think a lot about rituals – not just the content of my time with my kids, but the ritual of setting aside time, joining in something that brings us pleasure, making space for conversation and reflection.  Reflecting on these last weeks has made me ever more appreciative of the rituals we find in church.  Some are obvious, like attending weekly worship.  But others are less obvious, like how it feels to receive communion weekly, talking about what we learned that day through Sunday School or a sermon, or even the beauty of a post-church nap every week.  The ritual of being connect to a church community creates the environment for us to develop a relationship with God too.  I have no way of knowing if my children will be church attenders in their adult lives, but by giving them the experience of the ritual, they at least have some place to start in adulthood for making their own way to God.

I wonder what rituals need tending in your life this week.  Where are you feeling disconnected and disjointed, and how might finding your way back to those rituals feed your life and your journey with Jesus?  Or, if you are not so sure about that relationship with God, how might trying out some of the rituals with church open up some doors to which you didn’t know you had access.  I look forward to hearing about your what tending you want to try this week!

Sermon – Exodus 32.7-14, P19, YC, September 14, 2025

24 Wednesday Sep 2025

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This week Hickory Neck hosted a group from St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Powatan.  The group has been touring historic churches, gleaning lessons from each church’s stories, and asked if they could come do the same with us.  I told Hickory Neck’s story – from a newly constructed country church, to the act of siding with the British and closing altogether after the Revolutionary Way, to being a school for generations of children, to being a hospital for physical healing, to being ransacked by militias in multiple wars – where even the pulpit was used as firewood, to finally hosting a worshiping community just over 100 years ago, to now, being situated on 12 times the amount of property we originally had, hosting three buildings and a vibrant community of faith.

As I fielded questions from the group, I reflected on how as I have prayed in those wooden pews, as I have brushed my hand over those bricks with initials carved in them, and as I have stepped over a tombstone every time I enter that historic building, I find myself wondering about the stories of countless souls who have graced that building.  I know the more recent stories – of children in window wells, and people crowded around the altar for seating, and even of decisions like the one to build a new chapel so we have room to grow.  But I wonder about the stories of those who first opened the church who awaited who might show up that first Sunday of business.  I wonder about the grief experienced by those who watched their worship space become something else – or for those kids who grew up to tell tales like “when I was young, that didn’t used to be a church…”  I wonder about those who, for over 60 years never imagined anything for Hickory Neck other than being a little family-sized church, to those who worried a new building would mean the loss of intimacy the historic church provided.

As I pondered those various voices, imagined the myriad emotions of almost three hundred years experienced on this property, contemplated how those histories impacted spiritual relationships with God, I could not help but recall another group of followers of God – the Hebrews we read about in our lesson from Exodus today.  Those folks had been on a long journey too.  Their ancestor Abraham had journeyed to a foreign land and been promised countless descendants.  After his own dramatic journey, his descendants ended up in Egypt to escape a time of famine.  The rescuing by his son Joseph evolved into slavery under a new pharaoh.  After deaths and suffering, a reluctant prophet, Moses was sent.  Then came plagues, a mass exodus, a chase that led to drowning of the enemy, and a long journey in the wilderness.  But despite centuries of God’s faithfulness, the people lose their hope again and cling to something tangible – an idol – to soothe their anxiety. 

Now the part of that story we get today is interesting – I mean, who doesn’t have questions about the idea of God changing God’s mind, of God being so enraged by the infidelity of God’s people that God would destroy them entirely, of Moses slyly arguing with God, reminding God of how appearances matter (Does God want the Egyptians to see God destroy the very people God liberated?), of how God’s action of rage would negate the promise God made to Abraham, of whose people the Hebrews are (with God and Moses sounding like two arguing parents – your people have sinned…I think you mean your people with whom you made a covenant!). 

But what is more interesting to me is the greater arc.  Reading Genesis and Exodus is like reading a soap opera.  Journeys and betrayals, covenants and falls from grace, destruction and rebuilding, promises made and promises broken.  In the greater arc of that saga is a truth:  God’s faithfulness.  Over and over and over again, God’s faithfulness wins the day.  Theologians have read this passage from Exodus, and become anxious about the implications of a God that can change God’s mind.  If God’s mind can change, does that somehow make what we know about God inconsistent?  Danish Christian philosopher Søren Kierkegaard addresses this very issue.  Kierkegaard describes God as, “You Changeless One … You who are changeless in love, who just for our own good do not let yourself change.”[i]  In other words, “To say that God can be changed is not to suggest that God’s love for the world can be changed, but simply to say that there is no part of the world, no matter how meaningless to us, that is not of importance to God.”[ii]

As I think about the chaos of these days – of the unchecked shootings of children, political activists, and everyday people doing everyday things; of the demonizing of anyone who does not think like we do; of the disregard for the dignity of other human beings – I can empathize with a sinful people who would make an idol to have some tangible sense of comfort.  But this week, as I thought about the soap opera of our ancestors in Genesis and Exodus, and as I imagined the varied journey of our ancestors at Hickory Neck, I found myself overwhelmed with the faithfulness of our God – of the Changeless One who is changeless in love.    

I do not know what part of the world’s chaos is tugging at your anxiety or your temptation to craft an idol – perhaps an idol of money, power, popularity, and fame.[iii]  Whatever that force that is tugging at you, pastor Catherine Young reminds us that the interaction between Moses and God today is an invitation to remember that, “We can converse – even argue – with God.  The irony-filled dialogue between Moses and God shows that God has a sense of humor and appreciates ours.  More than our piety, God wants our honesty and candor.  God calls us to talk, listen, wrestle with our emotions, and be honest about our problems.  Those direct interactions change us…and sometimes they even change the mind of God!”[iv]  What they do not change though is God’s changelessness – God’s changeless love for God’s people in ancient days, in American history, and in our own day.  You Changeless One … You who are changeless in love, who just for our own good do not let yourself change.  Amen.

[i] Søren Kierkegaard “The Changelessness of God,” found in the collection of Kierkegaard writings, The Moment and Late Writings, eds. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong, Princeton University Press, 1998, p. 268.

[ii] Michael Fitzpatrick, “The Lord’s Mind was Changed,” September 4, 2022, as found at https://journeywithjesus.net/essays/3442-the-lord-s-mind-was-changed on September 12, 2025.

[iii] Catherine E. Young, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Supplemental Essays (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 3.

[iv] Young, 5.

On Collars, Conversations, and Casual Clothes…

10 Wednesday Sep 2025

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One of our favorite family errands is making the Costco run:  grabbing bulk supplies and some special treats to stock the house for the coming weeks.  My experience these days is mostly functional:  get in, grab items on the list, avoid being tempted by impulse purchases caused by yummy samples, and get home.  But last week I ended up near the warehouse while still in my clergy collar and decided to make a run anyway.  I do not know if it was the collar or it was a full moon, but I could not seem to get out of the warehouse without myriad encounters:  from the older gentleman who started with a question about bread and from whom I had to drag myself away ten minutes later because I think he was working out some loneliness; to the customers who either stared at or asked me directly about my collar; to the employee at check out who, without one word about my attire, asked me to pray for the staff that day. 

I have been thinking about how different that day in the store was from days when I do not wear a collar – wondering how folks might see me as a safe person to share their questions, wonderings, and concerns with or without a collar.  For some, the collar is a visual cue toward receptivity – a signal that I am a pastor even outside the church walls.  I suspect that once my collar is off, I am not necessarily putting out “Come talk to me – I welcome your thoughts, cares, and ponderings” vibes. 

Every Sunday in church we talk about taking the church out into the world.  Our dismissal says, “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”  My shopping experience made me wonder how much I limit that loving and serving.  Do I only love and serve the Lord when I’m in the mood?  Is my selective loving and serving obvious to others?  In other words, am I somehow actively shutting down loving, faithful care in daily life by masking my identity as a child of God by wearing my “casual clothes”? 

I invite your pondering with me this week about how loving and serving the Lord might mean cultivating a receptivity to loving, open, caring conversations with friends, family, and strangers (especially strangers!) alike.  We all need down time from being on at work or in our family or our volunteer roles.  But perhaps this week, we can experiment with using some of our “ordinary time” for unusual encounters – seeing people as they really are, listening more meaningfully when people reach out, pausing when others indicate they could use some of your time.  I cannot wait to hear how the shift in your week goes!

Sermon – Luke 14.25-33, P18, YC, September 7, 2025

10 Wednesday Sep 2025

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Having been born and raised in Georgia and North Carolina, saying living on Long Island was a culture shock would be an understatement.  But one of the things I came to love about living on Long Island was the directness of communication.  Now do not get me wrong, having been raised in the South, I know all too well that when your mom says, “You’re wearing that?” or your grandma says, “Don’t you want to wear lipstick?” or your friend says, “Well those new shoes are utilitarian,” they are not actually saying what they mean.  On Long Island things are much clearer.  Instead, you’ll be told, “Don’t wear that,” “Put on some lipstick; I’ll show you which one,” and “Those shoes are awful.”  The words always sting, but at least you know you what people think.

Today’s gospel has me convinced some of Jesus’ relatives were from Long Island.  In these short eight verses, Jesus says if we want to follow him, we will need to sell our possessions, carry our cross, and hate our parents, spouse, children, siblings, and even life itself.  I have to say, on this Kickoff Sunday, on the day we return to the fullness of Hickory Neck, and we feast and laugh and worship together, I could have used a little more southern-speak from Jesus today.  Jesus could have at least saved the hard sell for Stewardship season!

But as we start putting our calendars together for the fall, as our children sign up for the extracurricular activities, and as we think about what ministries we may want to try at Hickory Neck this fall, I suppose there is no time like the present to get real.  This is a season of hard choices.  I have talked to parents just this week about how to find a common date for the kids given all the scheduling challenges.  As we adults have mapped out our own calendars, we have realized there are things we can say yes to and things to which we have to say no.  In our own family, there are times when we have to bring in a third adult to help us juggle four people’s commitments.  This is a season of hard choices.  This is a season of conflicting priorities.

I do not actually think Jesus is being harsh in today’s gospel.  I know we sometimes get so used to the inclusive, loving, embracing God that we forget that following Jesus is not all rainbows and sunshine.  Jesus, like our beloved Long Islanders, is not harsh – just honest.  And Jesus is not saying there will be no health, healing, and wholeness; no justice, mercy, and grace; no forgiveness, salvation, and eternal life.  But Jesus is saying those things will cost us.  All those rainbows and sunshine we will receive come at the cost of redistributing wealth, of being faithful even when being faithful gets us ostracized from our social circles, of being intolerant of injustice, even if doing so risks our most valued relationships with others.

If we can agree that Jesus is just being honest, understanding why he is setting such a high standard can be helpful.  Starting with one of the trickier things Jesus says today may be best.  Jesus says in the final verse today, “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”  We all know that Jesus talks about money perhaps more than any other subject in scripture.  Jesus talks about money so much because Jesus knows the power money has over us.  Jesus tells us to give up our possessions, to stop worrying about what is mine because my obsession with owning, possessing, or claiming things as my own can make me think ownership is my exclusive, inviolable right.  Jesus knows having possessions can make me think all things are my own:  my money, my time, my comfortable lifestyle, my political or religious beliefs, my closest relationship, my independence.  Jesus knows when I get possessive, I cling to things that are not God, and create habits in myself leading me to smother, not love; to exploit, not steward; to hoard, not appreciate.[i]

Several years ago, on the podcast “On Being,” Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie retells an old Talmudic parable.  In the parable there is “a ship that is sailing, and there are many cabins.  And one of the people in the cabins on the lower floor decides to dig a hole in the floor of his cabin, and does so, and sure enough, the ship begins to sink.  And the other passengers suddenly discover what’s going on and see this guy with a hole in the floor.  And they say, ‘What are you doing?’ And he says, ‘Well, it’s my cabin.  I paid for it.’  And down goes the ship.”[ii]  What this parable and what Jesus are trying to do is help us see that possessions tempt us to live like the man in the cabin – to believe our ownership negates our relationship to others.  Our possessions can create an obsession with “me, me, me,” with a disregard for the “we” to which we belong as followers of Christ.

Jesus goes on to say in verse 27, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”  Part of Jesus’ cross is a redefining of the “we,” we were just talking about.  After some time being a member here at Hickory Neck, most of us start to move from third person to the second person language.  Instead of saying, Hickory Neck is committed to faith formation and serving neighbor, we start to say, “We are committed to faith formation and serving neighbor.”  The sense of belonging we find here takes us out of “me and my” language and “they and them” language and puts us into “us and we” language.  So, when Jesus talks about carrying our cross as Jesus invites today, he is not just talking about personal sacrifice.  Jesus is also asking, to whom and for whom we are responsible.  Jesus is widening the circle of “my people,” to consider who the people are we will love, welcome, serve, and for which we would make sacrifices.  Jesus is asking us to take on the task of widening our “we” to be broader and riskier than we have previously embraced.  By taking up our cross, we are saying the whole ship, not just my cabin on the ship, but the whole ship has an irrefutable claim on my life.[iii]

Jesus’ brutal honesty though comes right at the beginning, in verse 26.  Jesus says, “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.”  Hate is a strong word – a word we have banned in our home, especially when talking about other family members.  I will not be going home today and telling our children they can pick up that word again.  But I do think Jesus uses a powerful word because the power of discipleship will involve taking on some powerful experiences.  We will need to be willing to hate some things about this life.  We will need to ask which customs, beliefs, or traditions we have inherited we need to renounce to follow Jesus.  We will need to look at what baggage we need to abandon, what ties we must loosen, what relationships we must subordinate.  What scholar Debie Thomas says is “Jesus spoke his hard words about ‘hating’ one’s family in a cultural context where the extended family was the source of a person’s security and stability.  Jewish families in first century Palestine were self-sustaining economic units.  No one in their right mind would leave such a unit behind in order to follow a homeless, controversial preacher into some uncertain future.”  What Thomas asks us to consider is what sources of modern-day security and stability we trust more than we trust God.[iv] 

So, where do we find some Good News in all this sobering honesty?  Why would we do all this hard stuff?  We do all the hard stuff of discipleship because of the rainbows and sunshine.  We give up a sense of possession, we take on crosses, and we renounce things we have loved because we have experienced the rainbows and sunshine of Hickory Neck:  we have experienced life-altering community here; we have experienced love, joy, and blessing we did not know we needed here; we have experienced purpose, meaning, and value here.  We also take on Jesus’ intense notion of discipleship because we have experienced the rainbows and sunshine of the world around us:  we have experienced the profundity of loving our neighbor as ourselves; we have experienced the blessing of seeing God in someone we thought unworthy of our love; we have experienced being transformed by walking right out of our comfort zones into life-giving discomfort zones.  We accept the invitation of illogical discipleship because of the more cosmic rainbows and sunshine of faith:  of being known and accepted by a loving, living God; of the promise of forgiveness of our most heinous sins; of the reality of eternal life made possible through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.  Once we start thinking about the rewards of the life of discipleship, the cost seems surmountable.  Once we look at the depth of Christ’s rainbows and sunshine, letting go of possessions, taking up crosses, and hating the stuff of life that only brings death seems much less scary.  Once we realize we may not be able to do whatever we want to in our cabin, we realize we have a ship full of people ready to hold our hands as we take on the burden of discipleship together – because the burden is easy and the yoke is light.  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, “What It Will Cost You,” Journey with Jesus, September 1, 2019, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2346 on September 5, 2025.

[ii] Amichai Lau-Lavee, “First Aid for Spiritual Seekers,” On Being with Krista Tippet, July 13, 2017, as found at https://onbeing.org/programs/amichai-lau-lavie-first-aid-for-spiritual-seekers/ on September 5, 2025.

[iii] Thomas.

[iv] Thomas.

On Discernment and Community…

03 Wednesday Sep 2025

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Our older daughter is starting up the college tour in earnest this school year, and with that search have come conversations about college that were not a part of the conversations I had at a similar age.  Given the astronomical increases in the cost of tuition relative to income, our conversations with our children now include considerations like return on investment, debt management, and employability – topics I never addressed with my parents because going to college, let alone a prestigious college, meant things would fall into place for you – even if you chose a non-traditional path.

I have found this conversation bleeding into other areas of my life too.  The owner of the body shop I recently used and I got into a conversation about how we are guiding our children vocationally.  He shared how there is even a debate in his own vocation about the value of expensive, time-consuming vo-tech schools versus real world experience.  Even NASA has been conducting research about its own young employees who go straight into vocational training versus a traditional four-year college experience – most making six figures in their early twenties.

Of course, all this analysis came to a screeching halt the moment my younger daughter joined me in picking up my car at the body shop.  She was admiring some paint samples when the owner explained to her that he had invented some of the colors himself – some of which have been used by international businesses.  She then asked him a question I had not thought to ask, “What’s the best car you ever worked on?”  It was a simple question, but what her question taught me was something much more basic about vocational discernment: What brings you joy and satisfaction?

That basic question has got me thinking this week about how we value each other.  In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul says that God granted that some are apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers (4.11).  Not only do we need to be helping our children discern what gifts God is nurturing in them, we need to do the good work of celebrating each other’s gifts.  I remember have a case of nerves in seminary about preaching a senior sermon.  Upon hearing I was nervous, a professor quoted to me from the song There is a balm in Gilead.  He recited, “Well, if you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul, you can tell the love of Jesus, and say ‘He died for all.’”   

This week, I invite you to start looking at others with a different lens – searching for the unique gifts you see in others and celebrating those gifts with them.  Far too often we see the transactional nature of each other – the jobs we do or the roles we play and how those jobs and roles serve a purpose.  But I am much more interested in the vocations that are bringing others joy and satisfaction – a joy and satisfaction that can reinvigorate my own passion for the gifts God has given me.  I can’t wait to hear about the conversations you have this week!

Sermon – Luke 14.1, 7-14, P17, YC, August 31, 2025

03 Wednesday Sep 2025

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Tables are a funny thing.  Tables are where families gather and catch up about how their day was.  Tables are where a young adult eats their first solo meal on the plate they got at the local thrift store and where a much older adult gets lost in thought looking at the China pattern their grandmother chose as a new bride.  Tables are where friends gather in laughter and storytelling, and where formal introductions are made over so many forks you do not know which one to choose.  Tables are where the cool kids, the nerds, or the jocks sit in the cafeteria, and where students ask the terrifying question, “Is this seat free?” 

Tables were no less meaningful in Jesus’ day.  Much of Jesus’ ministry and the stories we know from Jesus happened around tables.  As scholar Debie Thomas describes, “Though the Gospels record [Jesus] receiving and accepting many dinner invitations during the years of his ministry, those mealtime scenes usually ended in drama, provocation, or scandal.  Once, a woman of dubious reputation caressed his feet under the table.  Sometimes he interrupted a meal to heal sick people on the Sabbath.  Often, he ate with dirty hands, shared a table with riff-raff, and drank more than his enemies considered respectable.  Worst of all — he said things.  Blunt, embarrassing things that no one cared to hear.”[i]

Today’s gospel includes one of those same uncomfortable encounters at a table.  Jesus has been invited to dinner by the one of the leaders of the Pharisees – an honor, to be sure.  But after watching the other guests jockey for the seats of prestige – those seats closest to the host – Jesus begins to tell a parable – or at least, Luke’s gospel says Jesus tells a parable.  What Jesus says sounds more like advice – and his advice, on first glance, sounds oddly manipulative.    “When you go to a wedding sit at the lowest-honor seating so that you can be honored when the host insists you move up to the prestigious seat.”  Somehow humbling yourself will let you be exalted, but I’m not entirely sure how authentic one’s humility is if they are being humble just to be exalted. 

So, then what is going here?  Well, Luke’s labeling this as a parable is helpful.  Though Jesus does not tell a narrative or story, like we know most parables present, we know by the use of the word “parable” Jesus is speaking directly about something with a deeper level of meaning.[ii]  Jesus is not giving social advancement advice.  He is calling into question the entire social order and contrasting that social order with the kingdom of God.  As scholar David Lose would argue, in this parabolic advice, Jesus is calling all social orders into question, saying that “…these things are not of God.  Jesus proclaims here and throughout the gospel that in the kingdom of God there are no pecking orders.  None.  Zero.  Zilch.  And while that sounds at first blush like it ought to be good news, it throws us into radical dependence on God’s grace and God’s grace alone.  We can’t stand, that is, on our accomplishments, or our wealth, or positive attributes, or good looks, or strengths, or IQ, or our movement up or down the reigning pecking order.  There is, suddenly, nothing we can do to establish ourselves before God and the world except rely upon God’s desire to be in relationship with us and with all people.  Which means that we have no claim on God; rather, we have been claimed by God and invited to love others as we’ve been loved.”[iii]

I think that realization of the deeper level of what Jesus is saying is why what Jesus says next is even more unnerving.  Jesus says the next time you have a meal, not to invite your friends or your family or even your rich neighbor.  You are to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.  In other words, our tables are meant to be a welcome space to outsiders. 

Dan Clendenin tells the story of family wedding.  When the young couple got married, “…they wanted to invite their entire church, but budgetary constraints prohibited that.  Instead, after the service they had the local police block off the main street in downtown Waco, Texas.  Guests danced in the streets and enjoyed refreshments from a Baskins Robbins ice cream cart.  The gazebo in the concrete park next to the theatre sheltered the wedding cake.  …[The groom] had made friends with a number of homeless men who lived under a bridge.  As a pastor [he] would employ these men for odd jobs at his church.  ‘Coyote,’ the leader of his homeless friends, came to the wedding in his usual attire of jeans with holes in the knees, a scraggly beard, and unwashed hair.  He organized his friends to clean up the streets after the wedding, then sat on the curb with a big smile and smoked a cigar.  Another guest was [the bride’s] next door African-American neighbor.  The little girl loved to spend time with [the bride], and really wanted to come to her wedding.  So the mother, the daughter, and the grandfather all came.  The 70 year-old grandfather was soon the center of attraction as he went out on the street and danced to the music.  Soon the college girls were vying to dance with him.  As passersby strolled by and inquired about what was happening, they too were invited to the wedding.  There were guests dressed in their nicest clothes alongside guests who wouldn’t feel at home at a formal occasion.  However they dressed, on this occasion every person felt welcomed as an honored guest, just as God himself welcomes us to himself, and invites us to welcome each other.”[iv]

This year, Hickory Neck is planning to launch a third worship service.  The dream for that service centers around a table too.  The guest list does not really include any of you here (no offense!).  We are hoping to create place settings for those who do not have a church home.  We do not expect to invite people who are friends, family, or even rich neighbors – though we certainly would not turn them away.  And although all our services gather around tables to share the Eucharistic meal, this service will literally be conducted around a dinner table – a table that feeds us physically but also spiritually.  Where all sorts of folks can gather, can share in community, can learn about this radically good news of Jesus’ love, and can shape disciples who invite the wideness of God’s kingdom.  Like all experiments, I am not sure how the experiment will go.  But today’s text reminds me of why we want to center that space around tables.

Of course, endorsing this new ministry doesn’t get us off the hook.  We do not leave Jesus’ parable (or parabolic teachings) today with a promise of a ministry that absolves our call to love like God loves.  Although Hickory Neck is hoping to model a communal way to live into the gospel, Jesus still offers us a personal invitation to think about our own tables this week.  “Jesus asks us to believe that our behavior at the table matters — because [our behavior at the table] does [matter].  Where we sit speaks volumes, and the people whom we choose to welcome reveals the stuff of our souls.  This is God’s world we live in; nothing here is ordinary.  In this realm, the strangers at our doorstep are the angels.”[v]  Our work this week is not quick-fix, one-time work.  Our work is the on-going work of welcome, love, reverence, and humility.  We do that work one table at a time – and all with God’s help.  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, “Table Manners,” August 21, 2016, as found at https://journeywithjesus.net/essays/1070-table-manners on August 29, 2025.

[ii] Luke Timothy Johnson,The Gospel of Luke:  Sacra Pagina Series, vol. 3 (Collegeville, MN:  The Litrugical Press, 1991), 224.

[iii] David Lose, “More Than Good Advice [or] Why Jesus Gets Killed, Pt. 2,” August 22, 2010 as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/more-than-good-advice-or-why-jesus-gets-killed-pt-2 on August 29, 2025.

[iv] Daniel B. Clendenin, “Jesus Does Dinner:  Food for Thought for Guests and Hosts,” September 7, 2007, as found at https://journeywithjesus.net/essays/3637-20070827JJ on August 29, 2025.

[v] Thomas.