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