Sermon, by Pastor Joel
Twenty-First Sunday After Pentecost
October 13, 2024
Joel 2:21-27
Psalm 126
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Matthew 6:25-33
The context of this sermon is
100% written by a human
In this morning’s gospel, we hear Jesus telling the disciples to just stop worrying. Don’t worry about your life. Stop worrying about when you will eat. Don’t worry about what you will wear. Just don’t worry.
To which we might all respond: easy for you to say.
This Thanksgiving, as we look around at the world and consider our lists of thankfulness, who isn’t worried? Around the world – and, most closely, in our neighbors to the south – we see upheaval and change, division and vitriol. The institutions and traditions of democracy normally held up as societal ideals are being challenged and eroded. The war in Ukraine wages on. Countries are becoming more wary of the newcomer crossing their border, more suspicious of their neighbors, more angry. We watched this week as Hurricane Milton ripped through Florida, devastating cities, taking lives and ruining many, many others.
If the main point of this morning’s gospel is that life is about more than what we wear and what we eat and what we own, how do we reconcile how this conflict and change are being driven by those very same worries? How do we ourselves respond?
Let’s consider specifically the worries that Jesus is addressing. Like the disciples, we have food and clothing. Our worry is about having fancier food and better clothing. Better food isn’t about nutrition; rather, it’s about pleasure. Better clothing isn’t about keeping warm or protected from the sun; it’s about looking good to others. And so, right away we see how those worries that Jesus is slapping down are not about living a Godly life. They are about striving for earthly goods. And not to share with others, but to keep for ourselves. So, being anxious about these things is not only exhausting, not only makes it hard for us to focus our energies elsewhere, but also leads nowhere – since there is always something better.
An indicator about what matters most in life is to listen to what people give thanks for today. I doubt few people will say, thank you for that designer shirt I got at the X- percent off sale last week. Or that someone will look around their table, or consider their life, and give thanks for the gourmet meal they enjoyed last month at the 5-star restaurant. No, they will say, thank you for my family and friends and neighbors. Thank you for clean air and nature. Thank you for the science that heals and the good work that brings peace. Thank you for the bounty that lies before us, and around us. Thank you for life.
There is both promise and risk in our interpretation of today’s gospel. The promise is that if we stop worrying, God will take care of everything. It’s a promise because it’s true – when we, who have much already, cease to worry about the material items that don’t matter, and put our energy in the qualities championed by the gospel, God does take care of things. When we invest our time and care in people, we are blessed with community. When we love and accept, we receive love and acceptance. When we work for a society that is more equal, we are rewarded with equality. When we refuse to accept injustice, we live in a more just world. That is a bounty, indeed.
But the risk of today’s gospel is also this: that we come to believe that if we stop worrying, God will take care everything. It’s a risk because people who believe this fail to see their own part to play. What is happening in society right now – the feeling that some are getting too much and others getting too little – is a problem we must all try to solve. The gospel, in fact, is all about displacement and replacement – never accepting the status quo, but investing energy in making it better. There are many ways to do this. Helping our refugees who arrive in our city. Running for positions of leadership when we see conversations that need to happen. Giving up our seat on the bus to a stranger that needs it more. Sitting with the person who is forgotten, lost, or dying.
Worry would make us believe: I don’t have an extra set of sheets or a pot to share. Or what if I try to make my voice heard and lose? What if my efforts to help are rejected? Other worries make us protect ourselves at all costs. What if no one gives me a seat when I need it? What if nobody sits with me in my time of need?
But thankfulness flips the narrative completely. We see that we have plenty to share, we have talents to contribute, we have extra space to make for someone else. We stop worrying about what’s empty, and we are truly thankful for all that is abundant, and all that we can make even more plentiful.
Aurora is a perfect example of this truth. Even for her, there will always be others who will have more. And there will always be those who are in greater need. The first call of her baptism – and for those who stand with her - is to begin learning -and teaching - how to worry less about the former and care more about the latter and bring both together.
This Thanksgiving and beyond, may we all worry less, and give thanks more. Not because God will simply take care of everything we want or need. But because when we truly recognize the bounty that lies around and before us – what God and good works have already done - we might then be inspired by the optimism and generosity of the gospel to look next for what we will do with all our blessings and the days that we have been given. Amen.
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