Easter 5, Year C (2025)

Acts 11:1–18 / Psalm 148 / Revelation 21:1–6 / John 13:31–35

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on Sunday, May 18, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker, Interim Pastor.

 

“COOTIES AND OTHER DISGUSTING STATES”

(Homily texts:  Acts 11:1 – 18 & John 13:31 – 35)

As people relate to one another, and particularly as they get to know one another well, some level of back-and-forth banter often begins to take place. For example, there might be some sort of mild teasing. Or, some sort of an “in” joke might develop among these friends as their relationship develops.

Grade school children often do this with their classmates. Recall in your own life experiences your time in grade school…did you accuse other people of having “cooties”? One way I recall this word being used was to say that boys had “boy cooties”.

In today’s reading from the Book of Acts, St. Peter is being accused of hanging around with Gentiles. The party within the Church that advocated the strict adoption of all the requirements of the Law of Moses (Torah) were essentially saying to Peter, “You shouldn’t be hanging around with those Gentiles. Don’t you know that they have cooties?”

As the young Church grew, it – and the Good News of God in Christ that it carried and shared with others – was bound to attract a wide range of people, including Gentiles. The question before the Church was to determine who could become a member of this new movement, and on what grounds could they be admitted.

So serious was this matter that a council was convened to sort out the various approaches to this subject. You can read about it in chapter fifteen of the Book of Acts. The council met in Jerusalem in the year 49 AD.

It’s interesting to note how Luke (the writer not only of the Gospel account which hears his name, but also the Book of Acts) describes those who were accusing Peter of bad behavior by hanging around with non-Jews. Luke uses the term “circumcision party”. We will see this term again in chapter fifteen as Luke describes the decision-making process that took place at the Council of Jerusalem. We also read, in Acts 15:5, that it was the party of the Pharisees who were maintaining that a person couldn’t enter the Church unless they adhered to all the requirements of the Law of Moses.

(Did you know that the early Church was composed of varying sorts of people and groups? Furthermore, it’s worth noting that – though the early Church was united in its witness to Christ – the Church varied from place-to-place in its method of organization, theological emphases, and so forth.[1])

The decisions that were reached at the Council of Jerusalem amount to a series of compromises. (Surprising? Shouldn’t be, I don’t think...the Church, at various times in its life, has had to make compromises on a number of issues.) I commend to your reading and contemplation the account of the proceedings at the Council of Jerusalem:  Acts 15:1 – 29.

As we think about the convictions of those of the “circumcision party”, we might come to the conclusion that they had missed something – something important – in Jesus’ own conduct and His decisions about whom to associate with.

Our Lord hung around with some pretty disreputable types: Tax collectors, prostitutes, and – yes – Gentiles. Recall the Lord’s encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman.[2]  This woman confronts Jesus’ own perspective, challenging Him to see that God’s intent was to fold into the divine plan not only Jews, but also non-Jews, Gentiles.

Moreover, the Lord’s consistent message, during His earthly ministry, was one of outreach, and one of love. (See today’s Gospel reading for our Lord’s emphasis on the requirement to love.) Possessing such a love will be – our Lord says – a marker of discipleship.

If we think about it, we all, every one of us, have “spiritual cooties”. We – in our unredeemed state – are separated from God by our sinful nature. Holy Baptism is the means by which that unclean state is washed away, and we are raised to a new life.[3]

The decisions reached at the Council of Jerusalem amount to a radical welcome to those who had come to faith in Christ, but who were not blood descendants of Abraham.  The Council affirms our Lord’s call to amendment of life in its decisions. The early Church, in its radical welcoming of all persons, also maintained that becoming a follower of Jesus meant that there would be changes in life, a change in perspective, growth in the faith, and an abandonment of the ways of that life that existed before coming to the Lord.

Maintaining a balance between the radical welcome that marked the early Church’s life, along with its insistence on a new and holy way of living, one that was marked with the pattern set by our Lord, isn’t easy. In our own day, such a balance is often missing, either by those who think the Church is a country club for saints, or by those who think that “anything goes” for those who are welcomed into the fellowship of Christ’s body.

AMEN.

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[1]   With regard to the makeup of the early Church, I commend to you an excellent book by the New Testament scholar (and Roman Catholic priest) Raymond Brown, who maintained that there were no less that seven different models of Church organization and outlooks in the early years of the Church’s existence. His book (still available) is “The Churches the Apostles Left Behind”.

[2]   See Mark 7:24 – 30.

[3]   See St. Paul’s description of Baptism in Romans 6:3 – 9. 

Easter 4, Year C (2025)

Good Shepherd Sunday - Acts 9: 36-43 / Psalm 23 / Revelation 7: 9–17 / John 10: 22–30

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on Sunday, May 11, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker, Interim Pastor.

 

“CONECTEDNESS”

(Homily texts:  Acts 9: 36–43 & John 10: 22–30)

Ever since I was a very young boy, I have been fascinated by – and in love with – steam locomotives and railroads in general.

I am old enough to remember these great big machines pulling passenger and freight trains across the Nebraska prairies. (It is gratifying to know that, nowadays, there are many younger people who can’t remember steam engines in service on the railroads of the country, but who are fascinated by them – as I am – and who are learning to care for, operate and maintain them.)

A steam engine – or a diesel locomotive these days – has no real purpose without something to pull. They might be wonderful to look at in a museum, or, they might be something to be admired from a technical standpoint. But the purpose of a locomotive is to move things. Freight cars and passenger cars can’t move themselves (unless – in the case of passenger cars – they are self-propelled somehow). So there is a symbiotic relationship between the source of the power to move things and the things that are being moved. One is dependent upon the other for its purpose and usefulness.

It strikes me that this is a good way to view the relationship between God (yes, that God whom Jesus Christ called His Father), Jesus Christ, and those who have come into relationship with the Father, the Son (and the Holy Spirit). Simply put, we might say that God the Father is the designer of the power to change things. Sort of like the designer of a great locomotive. (Hope this does justice to God the Father’s power and care for the world and the people in it!)

It is this God who sent Jesus Christ to be among us, to show us the way to God. In our Gospel reading, appointed for this Good Shepherd Sunday, we read our Lord’s statement, “I and the Father are one.” Meaning, of course, that the Father and the Son are connected. If we can make further use of our railroad analogy, we might say that the Son mirrors the design and the will of the Father, in much the same way that a locomotive mirrors the will and the design of its designer. No wonder then, that in John’s Gospel account, we read that the Son says that all that the Father has given Him is that which He has made known to us. (See John 15:15b.)

One-ness with the Father and the Son makes it possible for God’s will and God’s ways to be known in the world. So it is that we hear the account of Peter’s raising of Tabitha (Dorcas) in our first reading this morning.  Having come into a relationship with the Son, Peter’s connectedness to Jesus enables God’s power and God’s will to be known in the world. Recall that one of the markers of God’s activity is God’s ability to create and to re-create. In this case, God’s power is known in bringing Dorcas back to life again. Peter’s one-ness with the Lord makes God’s power manifest.

You and I, as modern-day disciples, follow in a great train (there’s that railroad imagery again!) of the Apostles, the great Saints and Martyrs, who have borne witness to God’s ability to create and to re-create. God’s power to make all things new destroys the ways of the Evil One, whose intent is to separate us from God, the God who is the source of all life and all that is honorable and true.

Only by maintaining our connection to God the Father through God the Son, may we be agents of God’s creative and re-creative power in the world.

AMEN.

  

Easter 3, Year C (2025)

Acts 9: 1–20 / Psalm 30 / Revelation 5: 11–14 / John 21: 1–19

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on Sunday May 4, 2025, by Fr. Gene Tucker, Interim Pastor.

 

“TURN AROUND!”

(Homily texts: Acts 9: 1–20 & John 21: 1–19)

A good many years ago, when I was a member of the U. S. Army Chorus (which is part of the U. S. Army Band in Washington, DC), we were scheduled to sing for a high-level military event. Because it was a very high-level event, there were many General officers in attendance.

For events like this, the usual practice was for there to be a break in the events following the evening’s dinner and whatever items there were to discuss. Then, after the break, the Chorus would perform.

On that particular evening, the Sergeant Major of the Chorus lined us up in the hallway as it was getting to be time for us to sing. Mind you, many of these Generals were walking right past where we’d lined up, down the hallway. The Sergeant Major then realized that he’d lined us up backwards, and that we would have to reverse our position. Two options then presented themselves: We could either march our way around to the correct orientation, or we could simply, each one of us, turn around. Since there were so many people making their way down the hall, Option One wasn’t feasible. For some reason, the Sergeant Major couldn’t remember the order to turn us around. That should have been “Chorus, About Face”.  Instead, he said, “Chorus, turn around”. He couldn’t see the many Generals who were walking past him as he said this very un-military command, but we could. We were slightly embarrassed. (Fortunately, there were no repercussions from this incident, although many of us wondered what those Generals who might have heard that very un-military order might have thought of the Sergeant Major, or of us.)

“Turn Around!”

That’s the common thread which connects our reading from the Book of Acts, and the last chapter in John’s Gospel account. Both Saul (later to be known as Paul) and Simon Peter were in need of a turn-around. Both were heading in the wrong direction.

Saul (Paul) was dedicated to destroying this new movement of the followers of Jesus, known in those early days as The Way. He was on his way to the city of Damascus to find anyone who belonged to this new movement, and to bring them back to Jerusalem for punishment.

On his way, a bright light shown from heaven, and a voice is heard, saying, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” The voice, of course, is that of Jesus.[1]

Now, the Lord begins to put together a plan to get Saul (Paul) going in the right direction. He informs a disciple named Ananias to find Saul (Paul), to lay hands on him and to restore his sight, and to baptize him.

It seems clear that the Lord looked down on Saul (Paul) and may have concluded that the spread of the Good News (Gospel) needed someone with the gifts that Saul (Paul) possessed. Those gifts were many: He was thoroughly familiar with the Law of Moses, and of the Old Testament Scriptures. He had studied with Gamaliel, one of the most prominent rabbis of the day. He was a Roman citizen, one who knew Greek, Hebrew, and, perhaps, also Aramaic and Latin. He was possessed of an enormous intellect. Moreover, the determination he had shown in pursuing the members of this new movement, The Way, would serve him well as he went out into the Gentile, non-Jewish world, carrying with him the Good News of what God had done in sending Jesus Christ. The Lord predicted the challenges that Saul (Paul) would face in carrying out God’s plan for spreading the Good News…when Ananias was told to find Saul (Paul), he objected, knowing his reputation. But the Lord told him, “Go, for he is my chosen instrument to carry my name to the Gentiles, for I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name,” (Acts 9: 15–16)

Saul (Paul) did, indeed, turn around. We, today, are all the beneficiaries of his work and his faithfulness.

Now, let’s turn to Simon Peter’s circumstances.

Recall that Simon Peter had denied the Lord three times as Jesus had been arrested and was standing before Caiaphas, the High Priest. (The three denials take place around a charcoal fire.)

Peter and the other disciples are eyewitnesses of the Lord’s resurrection. But in today’s reading, we discover that Peter told some of the other disciples that he was going fishing. (We might wonder why he’d made that decision – and it’s important to note that Scripture doesn’t tell us the reasons – perhaps he was going fishing until some new developments had taken place, or perhaps because he thought that this new movement didn’t have a future.)

Whatever the motivation or reasoning, Peter and some of the other disciples are in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. All night, they catch nothing. Then, a man on the shore tells them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat. When the resulting large haul of fish begins to break the nets, it is the disciple whom Jesus loved (traditionally, this would be John) who recognized Jesus, saying, “It is the Lord!”.

Then, Peter’s turnaround takes place after breakfast, and around another charcoal fire. The Lord asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” The three questions mirror the three denials, and these three questions mark Peter’s restoration. They also mark Peter’s charge from the Lord to go in a new direction, putting away the uncertainties, the denials, and the bumbling ways that marked Peter’s relationship with the Lord prior to the resurrection, prior to these three penetrating questions, and prior to the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you”, Peter answers.

Each of the three questions, “Do you love me” are followed by an instruction: 1. “Feed my lambs”; 2. Tend my sheep”; and 3. “Feed my sheep”.

Peter, like Saul (Paul) has work to do, work in the Lord’s kingdom, serving and following the Lord in a new direction.

We, today, are all the beneficiaries of Peter’s faithfulness and work.

These two mighty saints, whom we know today as St. Paul and St. Peter, stand as examples of the process that is an essential part of our walk with God.

The process is two-fold: 1. They each received a call from the Lord; and 2. They obeyed that call, with the Holy Spirit’s enlightenment and strength.

That process comes to each of us, believers in the Lord’s resurrection, in the new life that that rising to new life guarantees to all who come to faith, and who seek to heed the Lord’s call, turning in a new direction in response to the Lord’s prompting.

Come, Lord Jesus, that we may hear and heed your call to go in a direction that you would have us go. Come, Holy Spirit, strengthen us and guide us into the paths the Lord would have us go.

AMEN.

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[1]   Apparently, Saul’s (Paul’s) conversion was important enough to the early Church that the account we read this morning from Acts, chapter nine, is repeated again in chapter twenty-six. 

Easter 2, Year C (2025)

Acts 5:27 – 32 / Psalm 150 /    Revelation 1:4 – 8 / John 20:19 – 31

This is the homily written for Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania for April 27, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker, Interim Pastor. (On this day, no formal sermon was given during the worship service.  Rather, the sermon time was used for an occasion of “Stump the Pastor” providing time for members of the congregation to ask questions -- either about the scripture lessons of the day, or regarding aspects of the faith which they may have been wondering about and/or wanting to ask.)

 

“THE RESURRECTION: MYTH -OR- MYTH?”

(Homily text: John 20: 19 – 31)

A word we use regularly is “myth”. When this word is used, it often (usually) means something that isn’t at all true.

But there’s another meaning to the word “myth”, one that we might not think of at all: Its other meaning is something that is ultimately true, or something that we might say is true with a capital “T”. Myth in this sense often employs a story or perhaps some weighty statement.

For example, to exemplify the ultimate truth of human dignity and equality, this statement is used: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men (today, we would say all men and women) are created equal, and that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights….” (The Declaration of Independence). This lofty statement affirms the ultimate truth of the basic nature of all human persons.

Another example of “myth” in the sense of being ultimately true (with a capital “T”) might be C. S. Lewis’ story The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. For Christian readers and viewers of the movie, it’s impossible not to see the redemption story of our Lord Jesus Christ. Lewis’ story relates the ultimate truth of Jesus Christ.

Hopefully, these are good illustrations of this use of the word “myth”.

This morning, we hear the account of the disciple Thomas’ encounter with the risen Christ, an event that took place eight days after Easter Sunday. (So, it’s especially appropriate that we hear and consider this account on this day.)[1]

Let’s recall what John tells us about Thomas, and his demand to come to believe that the resurrection actually happened.

We read that, on Easter Sunday, Thomas was not present when the Lord appeared to the other disciples. In the days which followed, those who had seen the Lord told Thomas about their encounter. Thomas replied that he wouldn’t believe their statements unless he, himself, was able to touch the Lord and to actually put his finger into the Lord’s wounds. (I think it’s appropriate, at this point, to say that Thomas was simply taking the approach that many of God’s people in that day and time took…they wanted to have proof, physical proof, of something before they would believe it to be true.[2])

Then, on the eighth day[3], Thomas is present with the others, and Jesus comes into the room, through the locked door. Jesus knows of Thomas’ demands.[4] He says to Thomas, “Put your finger here…”

Thomas’ demands, essentially, come down to this: Does he believe that Jesus’ resurrection is a myth, that is to say, something that isn’t true at all, and has no basis in fact. Or, is Jesus’ resurrection a myth in the sense of being True with a capital “T”?

Thomas’ demands and his need to have a basis upon which to believe is ours, as well.

There is a wonderful verse in this account…When Jesus asks Thomas if he has come to faith because he was able to physically see the Lord, then the Lord says “blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe”.

I don’t know about you, but I believe there’s an imaginary blank in that statement, one in which you and I can write our names, for we are those who have come to believe that the Lord did, actually and truly, rise from the dead on Easter morning, and we have come to believe and to know this to be true, even though we can see this reality through the lens of faith.

When we get to the place where we can write our own names in this imaginary blank in the Lord’s statement, wonderful things begin to happen. For, you see, accepting the resurrection as “myth” in the sense that it is the ultimate truth and the ultimate reality of the world’s history, opens to us an intense, personal and ongoing relationship with the fulness of God.

Coming to this place marks a new beginning in our walk with the Lord. There is no other way to begin the journey on the pathway of faith than to come to the place where we believe that the resurrection is a “myth”.

Thanks be to God.

AMEN.

 

 

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[1]   This encounter is so important that this Gospel text is appointed to be read on the Second Sunday of Easter in each of our three-year cycle of readings.

[2]   The same is true of many people today…they demand to have tangible proof of something before they will believe it to be true. They need to have physical, scientific proof, of something before they’ll believe it to be real and true.

[3]   I can’t resist saying that this event, which took place on the eighth day after the resurrection, marks a new beginning for Thomas. In Holy Scripture, the number eight signifies a new beginning to things.

[4]   All throughout John’s Gospel account, Jesus possesses knowledge that only God would know. This is a marker, in the Fourth Gospel, of Jesus’ one-ness with God the Father.

Easter (The Sunday of the Resurrection), Year C (2025)

Acts 10: 34–43 / Psalm 118: 1–2, 14–24 / Colossians 3: 1–4 / John 20: 1-18

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on April 20, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker, Interim Pastor.

 

“STUFF”

(Homily text: John 20: 1–18)

I like “stuff”. “Stuff” is such a useful word, one that can refer to so many different things. In fact, one of my members of my former church said that I use the word “stuff’ so much that he said he was going to get me a sweatshirt with the logo “I Like Stuff” on it.

We can use the word “stuff” in so many different ways. For example, when I’m taking my grandson to lacrosse practice, I might say to him, “You got your stuff”? Meaning, of course, does he have his helmet, his pads, his mouthguard, proper footwear, and the like.

Or, when my wife asks me what I’m doing, I might respond, “Stuff”, which could mean any number of things, perhaps, for example, miscellaneous tasks that I can’t really enumerate accurately. Or, using the word “stuff” might be a deliberate way to hide what I am doing, such as getting her birthday present.

So, you see, “stuff” is really a very useful word, one which could have specific meanings, or it could be nebulous, all-encompassing term.

We live in a world of “stuff”.

Some “stuff” isn’t alive, it’s inanimate. Take, for example, rocks, or maybe the soil in our fields and gardens. Ever think of how old that “stuff” must be? Wow!  And, of course, some creative force or power made all that “stuff” way back somewhere, somehow.

Some of the “stuff” of the world is living, but is basically inanimate. For example, the wood in our furniture in our homes came from a tree somewhere, sometime. The pulpit I am preaching from this morning is an example. Back in the beginning somewhere, sometime, the tree was created and was given life. That One who created the tree also gave it the ability to reproduce, so that we have trees today that we can fashion into various useful things.

Some other ‘stuff” is living, like bugs, or birds, or squirrels, or cats and dogs. Or human beings. All of these living things had a beginning sometime, somewhere. That creative force (for us who believe, that would be God, as we affirm in the words of the Apostles’ Creed, saying, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth…”) not only created these things, but gave them life. The creation accounts in the book of Genesis affirm this reality, telling us that God created these living things, and gave them life. The same is true of those first human beings…Genesis’ words are especially important, for the text tells us that God breathed the spirit of life into human beings.

The universal truth of the world in which we live is that when something that is alive is no longer alive, it cannot be made to live again. Of course, in the marvelous age in which we live, an age when so many medical advances have come along, it is possible for us to prolong life and to rescue life when – in an earlier age – such a life would have ceased to be.

But, even in the age in which we live, once someone has died, there is no bringing them back to life again.

The reason is that the ability, the power, to breathe life into a living thing belongs to God alone.

(I can’t resist saying that when someone begins a new chapter in their life, when they, essentially, come to life again, such as when they turn from an addiction and begin a new life free from whatever had claimed power over them, we can say that – quite likely - we see the hand of God at work in this new beginning, this new life. God’s power to create and to re-create is one of the markers of God’s power, activity and presence.)

Our Lord Jesus Christ lay dead in the tomb on this Easter Sunday morning. The fact that He was completely, totally dead is easy for us to accept, for His death was a public event, witnessed by many.[1] His death did not take place behind prison walls. The wounds He received make it clear that no one could have survived what had happened to Him.

And so, Mary and the other women came to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning, expecting to find a dead person. They came prepared to care for a deceased person whom they loved. After all, their expectation was that, once a person had died, there was no bringing them back to life again. They were gone, permanently.

Now, we return to the matter of the “stuff” of life, of giving life where there was no life. This is God’s power, God’s presence and God’s activity. It is the power that the Creator God, alone, possesses.

No wonder this reality is the central, most important part of our Christian faith. For it means that – if God could bring Jesus to life again – then that same Creator God can create new life in us. When we are spiritually dead, God’s Holy Spirit can breathe new life into us, making us over into a new, faith-filled person. No matter how spiritually dead we may have been, God can fan the flames of faith into a glowing tribute to God’s ability to create and to re-create.

Now, in this creative process, there is a critical difference to note: We have the ability to cooperate with God’s creative work, or to decline the invitation to work with God. Those other living things that we spoke about a few minutes ago didn’t/don’t have that ability: They were simply created, they didn’t have the ability to say “No”.

But though none of us had the ability to decline being born, we are given the power to say “No” to God as our lives unfold. We can choose to stand apart from God’s invitation to be created, or to be re-created anew.

But if we accept this wonderful invitation, then something miraculous and mysterious happens: We begin the process of being formed into the image of our Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes, this process is difficult to explain, but we can see the markers of it when they are present.

The invitation to accept God’s offer is, basically, what we’re about here this morning, in this church, in God’s house. It is the invitation to allow God into the very inner and most personal parts of our lives, so that God can bring to life anything that has atrophied and died.

Thanks be to that Creator God, the One who brought to life again our Lord Jesus Christ. Thanks be to that same God who can bring new life to all who are willing to open their hearts to this divine initiative.

AMEN.

 

 

 

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[1]   Jesus’ death is also a matter of record from a non-Christian source: The first-century historian, Josephus, records Jesus’ death, and also reports that there were reports that He had risen from the dead. 

Maundy Thursday, Year C (2025)

Exodus 12: 1–14 / Psalm 116: 1–2, 12–19 / I Corinthians 11: 23–26 / John 13: 1–17, 31b-35

This is a homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKinghtstown, Pennsylvania on Thursday, April 17, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker, Interim Pastor.

 

“OFF-LIMITS TO GOD”

(Homily text: John 13:1–17, 31b–35)

“Each one of us has a place in our heart that we put off-limits to God.”  So said my first Bishop.

This is a startling statement. But, on a closer look, I suspect it’s absolutely true. After all, don’t we want to have a place all to ourselves, a place where we can indulge in whatever behaviors, ideas and thoughts we’d like, free of God’s penetrating view?

I think so.

But, the event that we remember this evening, at the Last Supper, remind us that our Lord Jesus Christ didn’t put any limits on what God’s will was for Him and for the work God had sent Him to do.

That’s the implication of the foot-washing that Jesus did on this night (a part of the events of that Passover meal that John, alone among the Gospel writers, relates to us).

Foot-washing was the job of servants or slaves. It was not a task that leaders or teachers were to perform. No wonder Peter recoils at the idea of Jesus washing his feet.

But our Lord makes it clear that, though He is the disciples’ Lord and teacher, He is also sent to serve.

As the Lord and the disciples leave that Passover supper, some of them go into the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus will be betrayed by Judas Iscariot, will be arrested, and then will be taken to the house of the High Priest, Caiaphas. A trial will follow, then an appearance before the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate.

The events of Good Friday will follow.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus will pray, saying, “Father, if it is your will, allow this cup[1] to pass from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”[2]

In these words, there is no holding back, no “off-limits” to Jesus’ willingness to surrender all to God’s will.

In Holy Baptism, dear friends, we, too, surrender all to God. In essence, in Baptism, we are saying, “Lord, we can’t save ourselves, but we unite ourselves in a death like Jesus’, in order to be raised to a new life like Jesus.”[3]

As our walk with God begins in our Baptisms, we commit ourselves to a radical self-emptying, again and again as life goes along, saying to the Lord, “We lay down our pretenses, our own selfish desires, our self-indulgent ways, so that you can remold and remake us into your image and likeness.”

On this Maundy Thursday, may we ask ourselves, “Do I harbor any off-limits places that I hide from God?”.

May the Holy Spirit open our eyes to see ourselves as God sees us.

AMEN.

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[1]   The cup of suffering

[2]   Matthew 26:39

[3]   See Romans 6:3 – 9. 

Palm Sunday (The Sunday of the Passion), Year C (2025)

Luke 19: 28–40 / Isaiah 50: 4–9a / Psalm 31: 9–16 / Philippians 2: 5–11 / Luke 23: 1–49

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on Sunday, April 13, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“CHALLENGING THE WAY THINGS WERE AND ARE”

(Homily text: Luke 19:28 – 40)

As we stand at the beginning of this Holy Week, and as we contemplate the events that unfolded during that week, perhaps we consider all that happened from the standpoint of challenge.

To be sure, Jesus challenged the way things were in the time of His earthly ministry. During this week, He will take on the powers that then existed 2,000 years ago. He challenged the power structures of the time: The alliance of the chief priests, the Pharisees, the scribes, the Herodians[1], and the power of the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate. (We ought to note that these various groups each had their own sphere of influence and power, and each one guarded their own turf jealously. But they could manage to work together if the challenge to their collective positions was threatened. In brief, that’s the story of the events of Good Friday.)

And so, on the first day of Holy Week (Sunday, which we know as Palm Sunday), Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. Luke tells us that the crowds who greeted Him cried out, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord”.[2]

The challenge to the high and the mighty may have begun with the greeting that Jesus heard as He rode into Jerusalem. “King” was a word with political implications. It’s interesting to think about the fact that there were some Pharisees who heard this greeting. Is it possible that they went to the chief priests and the others, characterizing Jesus’ entry into the city as a political movement that had come to challenge the status-quo? We don’t know the answer to that, and Scripture doesn’t tell us, but we do know that, at His trial, Jesus was asked if He was a king. It was the charge (made by the chief priests and others) that He was claiming to be a king that convinced Pontius Pilate to condemn Him to death. (After all, Pilate wouldn’t have understood the religious controversies involved in Jesus’ challenge to the religious authorities, but he could easily understand challenges to Roman rule.)

If we turn around and look back at Jesus’ earthly ministry, we can see that His ministry was one of challenge: Challenge to what people thought they knew about God; challenge to their conceptions of who was/was not clean or unclean; challenge to the God’s requirement for a change to the inner heart and mind; challenge to understand that God valued amendment of life over sacrifice and adherence to the Law of Moses; challenge to set aside pride in people’s claims to be children of Abraham.

Our Lord continues to challenge us today.

He challenges us to see that God values repentance and amendment of life over outward religious observance. He challenges us to see that no one is outside of God’s ability to love and to redeem. He challenges us to be ambassadors of God’s ability to create and to re-create. He challenges us to model the righteousness that we see in His example in our daily lives.

We might ask ourselves, as we enter in this most holy of weeks, a number of questions: “What kind of challenge does my life, my values and my conduct pose to those with whom I come in contact, and to the wider society in which I live?” “Is my life one which says ‘There is a better way’, a way that Jesus Christ alone can bring about?” “Do I resist the values of the society in which I find myself, demonstrating in quiet but consistent ways that God’s love fills my heart, giving meaning to life which can be found nowhere else, and which compels me to treat everyone with whom I come into contact with genuine care, concern and love?” And finally, “Do I have a personal, intense and ongoing relationship to God through Jesus Christ?”

Good questions, each of them, for us to ponder this week.

AMEN.

 

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[1]   The Herodians were a group of supporters of the puppet king, King Herod the Great and his descendants, who were installed by the Romans.

[2]   Luke 19:38

Lent 5, Year C (2025)

Isaiah 43: 16–21 / Psalm 126 / Philippians 3: 4b–14 / John 12: 1–8

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on Sunday, April 6, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“FINDING OUR TRUEST SELVES IN GOD’S UPWARD CALL”

(Homily text: Philippians 3: 4b–14)

As we begin our life’s journey, and as that journey unfolds, each one of us engages in a quest, whether we know it or not, and whether or not we are aware of it. That quest is to find our truest self, our true calling in life, what our talents are and where they lie, our careers or vocations, our relationships with others, and – above all – our relationship to God.

This morning’s epistle reading, taken from St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians, describes this quest, relating to us Paul’s previous life before he came into relationship with Jesus Christ, and his life (and work) once God had called him into that relationship.

Simply put, Paul’s description outlines the reality of that call. Specifically, Paul says that he came to understand that nothing he could do could bring him into relationship with God. No, on the contrary, it was God’s call, God’s initiative, that made such a relationship possible.

Before we look more deeply at what Paul has to say, let’s remind ourselves about the nature of this wonderful letter to the Philippians.

Many biblical scholars agree that the letter to the Philippians may have been the last letter Paul wrote. He refers to the circumstances of his writing, saying that he is imprisoned (perhaps in Rome). Paul seems to understand that his earthly journey is about to come to an end. And yet, this letter is, perhaps, the most positive and joyful of his letters. It’s clear that Paul had a wonderful relationship with those early Christians in Philippi.

Now, let’s look at Paul’s description of his walk with God. (Note that Paul uses the word “walk” later on in chapter three of the letter.[1])

He begins by tracing his religious pedigree: “I am a faithful member of God’s chosen people”, he says (in essence): Circumcised on the eighth day of life, a member of the tribe of Benjamin, blameless under the Law of Moses, a faithful Pharisee, a persecutor (in my life before Christ) of the Church.

But that religious pedigree, he says, is all gone. It was worthless, it is a total loss.

Why?

The reason is that, he has come to realize, that all his efforts to be in proper relationship with God were built on a faulty foundation: His own merit and his own efforts. So, he says, that previous life is now all rubbish, garbage.

Now, he tells us of the reality of God’s power, made known through Christ, a power that has the ability to bring him (and us) into a proper relationship with God. He uses a comparison to describe this reality: “…I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.”[2]

Put another way, Paul realizes that he must “bottom out” in order for God to build a true, lasting and enduring relationship with God, one built upon the foundation of God’s upward call to relationship, a call that is rooted in God’s love and God’s mercy.

If we think about it, that’s the essential meaning of Holy Baptism, which is a “bottoming out” passage which initiates a proper relationship with God. In Baptism, we acknowledge God’s call to relationship, a call not built upon our own efforts or achievements, but on God’s mercy, love, and God’s deep desire to be in a true and intense personal relationship with each one of us.

As we walk through life, it will be helpful for us if we keep in focus our own inability to craft a proper relationship with God through our own efforts. Notice how Paul remembers his previous life, and his own efforts at religious self-promotion, as compared to the uselessness of such efforts, when compared to God’s upward call.

The promises of Baptism endure through this life and into eternity. (Indeed, Baptism creates an indelible mark on our souls.) But if we’re not careful, we might be tempted to think that we can build our own spiritual Tower of Babel, attempting to reach toward God as we add more and more “good stuff” to support our upward climb toward righteousness. All such attempts are useless, or – in Paul’s words – they are rubbish, garbage.

To be able to respond to God’s upward call, we are going to need the ongoing help of the Holy Spirit to see ourselves as God sees us, and to open our eyes to see whether or not the path we are walking is the one which leads to a right and proper relationship to God through Christ.

So come, Holy Spirit, open our eyes, shine the light on our path, and guide us, that we may respond to God’s upward call in Christ.

AMEN. 

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[1]   Philippians 3:17

[2]   Philippians 3:8b - 9

Lent 4, Year C (2025)

Joshua 5: 9–12 / Psalm 32 / II Corinthians 5: 16–21 / Luke 15: 1–3, 11b-32

This is the homily given at Flohr’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in McKnightstown, Pennsylvania on Sunday March 30, 2025 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“WE CAN’T, BUT GOD CAN”

(Homily text: Luke 15: 1–3, 11b –32)

This morning, we encounter the familiar Parable of the Prodigal Son.

Our Lord’s teaching in this parable (remember that He is a master story teller) centers around the idea of something that was lost, but then is found again. In Luke’s Gospel account, chapter fifteen, this parable follows two others which also have to do with lost things: The Parable of the Lost Sheep (verses one through seven), and the Parable of the Lost Coin (verses eight through ten).[1]

The theme of these three teachings, then, is to focus on something that is lost, but then is found by the owner/keeper/father.

In the last of these three parables, the lost item is, by far, the most valuable: The father’s son.

The contrast in this last parable couldn’t be sharper, for it centers on the lost (and deplorable) condition of the younger son, compared to the security of the father.

Before we look at the implications of the lessons to be learned from this parable, let’s mention a couple of unresolved aspects of the parable:

·         Once the younger son has spent all of his father’s inheritance, does the father restore that inheritance again? (My guess would be that the father doesn’t restore or make up for the lost wealth, and – I think – the text seems to support that conclusion.)

·         Why does the father not call the older son out from the fields once his younger brother has returned home?  Why does the father initiate the celebration, but leaves the son out of it? (Here, I think, the reason might be that the father is so overjoyed at the younger son’s return that he overlooks calling for the older son to come in from the field.[2])

In the very early Church, a common way of interpreting the meaning of the Scriptures was to use analogy. By that we mean that, essentially, analogy is this = that. So, the purpose of this parable might have been for our Lord to portray to his listeners (God’s chosen people, the Jews) that their true spiritual condition resembles the older son’s state more accurately than the younger son’s. We might explore this idea a bit…The older son relies on his achievements as the basis for respect in the father’s estimation. “I have always followed your commands,” he says. In a similar way, God’s chosen people at the time of our Lord’s earthly ministry relied on their faithful adherence to the Laws of Moses (Torah). In response, Jesus reminds them that God requires “mercy, not sacrifice”.[3]

To follow God’s commands so closely does indicate that God’s people are somewhat aware of God’s sovereignty and God’s nature and God’s desire to possess a people for Himself.

So, we can say that – like the older son – that son (and God’s people, by analogy) get “half a mark” in their walk with God.

But Jesus makes clear that it is the younger son who finds favor with the father (God, by analogy).

How so?

The younger son “comes to himself” in a foreign land, but only when he’s reached the very bottom of existence: He works for a farmer, feeding pigs. (Recall that, for God’s people, pigs are unclean animals. This means that the younger son is also unclean, by being with unclean animals.) By this time, Jesus tells us, the younger son’s money and whatever assets he took with himself when he left home are gone. Jesus tells us, furthermore, that no one in the foreign country gave him anything.[4]

Now, the younger son realizes where he can get help: From home, and from his father.

It’s interesting that Jesus relates to us the rehearsal of the younger son’s speech, once he encounters his father upon his return home. But note that the younger son doesn’t get to finish all of that speech, for the father interrupts him midway. (I think this is an important aspect of the story, and one which shows how eager the father (God) is to welcome the new life that the younger son’s return means. It also mirrors the two previous parables in chapter fifteen, when Jesus tells us that the finder of the lost sheep and the lost coin each say, “Rejoice with me, for that which was lost is found”.

Perhaps the point of this parable is to make clear that we are to be mindful of God’s goodness, God’s holiness, and God’s love, all three. At the same time, we are to be mindful that – absent God’s presence and God’s intervention in our lives – we’d be pretty much in the same boat as the younger son who’s fallen into the depths of life.

Once we see the contrast between God’s love and God’s holiness and our condition absent those things, we can see how central the movement of the Holy Spirit is to make us aware of our lost-ness absent God’s work and presence, and to see how blessed we are when some measure of God’s desire for the way in which we live our lives enables us to move closer to God’s ideals. To be sure, absent the movement and work of the Holy Spirit, no amendment of life is possible. We must remain aware of that reality.

We pray then, for the Holy Spirit to come before us and ahead of us, to prepare our hearts and minds to see ourselves as God sees us, as extraordinarily important creations of God, deliberate and beautiful creations, and yet, as creations that require remaking and remolding into the image of God. Such a remaking and remolding begins, as it did for the younger son in today’s parable, with the need each of us has to “come to ourselves” and realize how helpless we are to move toward God’s ideals.

AMEN.

 

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[1]   It’s possible that Jesus didn’t tell all three of these parables in the order in which Luke presents them. Luke may have had in mind presenting these three related parables together to emphasize the importance – to God – of the recovery of things that are lost, and – in particular – people that are lost.

[2]   If we follow the analogical method of text interpretation, perhaps the Lord is pointing out that God’s chosen people will be left out of God’s plans if they do not realize their own need for repentance and amendment of life. By the time of Luke’s composition of his Gospel account, this reality was beginning to take shape, as the Gospel message went out into the Greco-Roman world, where it was embraced by Gentiles.

[3]   Matthew 9:13

[4]   If we think about it, this is the essential meaning of Baptism, for it is to be buried in a death like Jesus’, but to be raised to new life in a resurrection like His (see Romans 6:3 – 9). Baptism is a sort-of “bottoming out”, an admission of our own helplessness to bring about new and godly life.