Sermon on Luke 17:11-19

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

It’s easy to turn our Gospel reading into a morality tale about being thankful. And that’s a valid reading: gratitude is important, and Jesus certainly deserved thanks.

But a detail stuck out at me this week: “On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.”

The writer of the Gospel of Lukeis drawing our attention to Jesus’ location on purpose.

First, Jesus was “on the way to Jerusalem,” which means he was heading toward the cross, and he knew it. He was preparing his disciples to continue his mission into the years to come.And still, he made time to honor the request of this group of ten.

He was also “going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.” He was in between places. He wasn’t specifically in Samaria or Galilee, but in a “region between.” He was “on the way” to Jerusalem but not there yet. He was in a liminal space, a transitional space like a hallway or a threshold.

Naaman, too, was in a liminal space, a space of contradicting realities and unexpected boundary crossing. Naaman was powerful but had a skin disease that he was powerless against. He was a warrior but had to seek help in enemy land.

Instead of performing a work of great power or requiring a heroic task, the prophet simply told him to go bathe. But, he had to bathe in “their”water, not his “better” water. The border remained crossed. Naaman the powerful was required to humble himself by bathing in “their” river.

Liminal spaces and crossed boundaries are uncomfortable.

We humans like the solidity of categories, of being in one place or another, but not between. We want clean boundaries that aren’t crossed. It’s tidy to have a clear distinction between “us” and “them.” We want to know how things work and where things belong. We want to know who’s in charge and where we stand.

We’re uncomfortable with liminal spaces.

Airports and train stations, for instance, can be anxiety-producing. You’re not at home or your destination—you’re in between. It can be hard to relax in a doctor’s office waiting room for the same reason. The anticipation is unnerving.

Similarly, it can be challenging to meet new people, because the primitive part of our brains isn’t sure where they belong. Are they an “us” or a “them”?

We might be able to make an educated guess and more easily approach a stranger who’s similar to us in some way—age, gender presentation, language spoken, or other marker that makes us feel like it’s less risky to start a conversation.Our brains are more comfortable with that. But if we don’t register a similarity, we might be more hesitant to say hi.

This happens at church too. We want to welcome anyone who comes through those doors, but sometimes we fall victim to an “us” and “them” mentality unconsciously. I know some of you are very intentional about greeting everyone, and that’s beautiful and I so appreciate that.

For some of us, though, we don’t always put ourselves out there as much as we would like. We might say good morning to someone who obviously knows their way around a hymnal, who asks for a bulletin, who dares to sit in the front half of the sanctuary.

But we might be more nervous to approach someone who shyly sits in the back pew with their head down. Or someone with an obvious physical or cognitive disability that’s different from any we might have. Or someone wearing non-gender-conforming clothing. Or anyone our brainscan’t as easily put into the “us” category.

But it’s not just nice—it’s kind to greet everyone.First of all, it’s scary to walk into a sanctuary for the first time even if you’re a long-time Lutheran and in seminary—I know, because I visited a lot of congregations, Lutheran and otherwise, during my seminary years.Every congregation is different, and you never fully know what you’re going to find or what faux pas you’re going to commit. The visitor is probably way more nervous than you are.

And second of all, Jesus teaches us that there is no “them” category.

That’s what struck me about the Gospel story this week. Jesus was in a liminal space, and it was only a Samaritan who came back to thank him—a person who would have very easily been in Jesus’ “them” category.

Samaritans were considered by Jewish people in Jesus’ time to be an enemy.And yet, it was a Samaritan who returned and praised him, which is the appropriate response to a healing encounter with Jesus.

Maybe it was only in this liminal space between Samaria and Galilee that the Samaritan and the other nine would have dared ask Jesus for what they needed and only in this liminal space that a Samaritan would have dared approach Jesus a second time, even in praise. Our boundaries are powerful, but liminal spaces make otherwise impossible connections and healing between people possible.

Naaman was seeking healing, too, and it was necessary for him to wash in “their” river instead of his superior rivers, because we don’t get to choose where or how God shows up. God meets us in crossed boundaries and liminal spaces, where we have to get off our high horses and be open to mystery.

Liminal spaces are often where transformationoccurs. God isn’t very good about coloring within the lines. The Holy Spirit surprises us, challenges us, and moves us outside our boundaries and into liminal spaces. Jesus meets us in those liminal spaces, the margins we forget about or ignore, but where God’s healing and love are found.

God’s Beloved Community breaks down barriers and recognizes all people as children of God.

How can we question the “us” and “them” tendencies of our brains?

Who can we learn to appreciate more?

What relationships can we foster?

Where are liminal spaces in our lives? Are there other liminal spaces we can seek God in?

Whether you find yourself, like Naaman, resenting having to cross a boundary or, like the grateful Samaritan, find yourself placed on the wrong side of a boundary by society, you will find God in that liminal space.

When we cross boundaries, we find out surprising things about each other. Our assumptions get challenged, our stereotypes dissolve, our biases become clear and then dissipate.

One of my favorite things about working at the Orange County Conservation Corps before going to seminary was at our corpsmember holiday party.

One Friday morning, the corpsmembers would bring their families in for hot chocolate, tamales, and a visit from Santa, who would pass out donated toys to the kids.

It was so moving to see tall, muscular guys with tattoos and piercings holding their babies. Seeing them share their toddlers’ excitement about Santa reminded me that they were barely out of childhood themselves, though often they hadn’t had the peaceful, joyful childhood I would have wished for them. They were in the liminal space of barely being adults and having the very adult responsibility of being parents.

If I hadn’t known them, my brain probably would have categorized these young people as “them” and maybe even as “a threat” to me.

But in the Christmas season of God crossing the boundary between human and divine, between earth and heaven, God showed me the beauty and tenderness of these beloved children of God who kissed their infants and whose eyes lit up at their children’s squeals of joy.

God is like that too. God is in the liminal spaces, delighting in our healing, lighting up at our joy.

When we remember that, we can set aside our brains’ divisions of “us and them” and instead voice our gratitude for God’s love for us and all humanity.

That’s a form of healing we find in Jesus.

That’s worth turning around and thanking God for.

Sermon on Luke 17:5-10

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

According to our Gospel reading today, we should be able to transplant trees into the ocean, it’s okay not to thank people who are being exploited, and we should consider ourselves “worthless slaves”?

Raise your hand if you find any of that troubling.

This is a pretty gross teaching. Jesus isn’t sounding like a rabbi I would want to follow.

What do we do with this?

This doesn’t make it any less gross, but it at least explains why our reading doesn’t seem to connect the mustard seed teaching with the slavery metaphor. Our reading is probably two teachings. The whole beginning of chapter 17 seems to be a collection of miscellaneous teachings of Jesus.

As we talked about two weeks ago, none of Jesus’ disciples were following him around furiously recording everything that happened. The Gospels weren’t written until decades after Jesus’ death and resurrection.

The writer of Luke wanted us to hear these teachings of Jesus but didn’t necessarily write them down chronologically. They may have been assembled more by theme.

So, we can look at these teachings as individual units and then see if they offer any other gifts by reading them together.

First, we have the mustard seed teaching. The disciples request more faith, but Jesus teaches that even a tiny speck of faith allows incredible works like planting a tree in the ocean.

This seems a little discouraging, because I sure can’t do that—can you?

But maybe Jesus’ point is that faith isn’t a commodity to be amassed. We as Lutherans believe faith is given by God. It’s something we don’t do on our own, so we don’t need to ask God for more of it. We can trust that God has given us what we need. If God needs us to plant a tree in the ocean for some reason, we’ll have the necessary faith.

Then, the second reading is the really gross one with the slavery metaphor.

It’s troubling whenever Jesus uses slavery imagery and doesn’t condemn the practice. It’s an unfortunate example of being able to find whatever you’re looking for in the Bible, including justification for or at least not condemnation of enslavement.

But as faithful readers of the Bible, we look at bigger themes throughout—themes like liberation, love, and compassion, which are incompatible with enslavement. We use those themes instead of individual troubling verses to figure out what God’s up to in the world.

What was God up to when Jesus taught this? We know and Jesus knew that he would end up at the cross. He warned his disciples again and again. As he drew nearer to Jerusalem and his death, he taught some challenging things to try and prepare his disciples for what was to come.

It wasn’t enough to follow Jesus around hoping for a miracle and a free lunch. Following Jesus meant you might be arrested, beaten, and even killed. So, as much as Jesus’ teachings can sound harsh, it would have been unkind for him not to be realistic about what he was asking of his disciples.

So, as harsh and troubling as Jesus’ words are here, we can see them as a reminder to his disciples (who were known to occasionally quarrel over which of them was the greatest) that they weren’t following Jesus for the glory. They were, in fact, going to experience some heart-breaking trials by following Jesus to Jerusalem.

The point isn’t that slavery is okay—it’s not—or that we shouldn’t thank people—we should—but that following Jesus doesn’t mean we’ll get glory or even thanks. Instead, it has to be something that matters to us so much that we’re willing to die for it. It’s not about us. It’s about Jesus and Beloved Community.

When we take these two teachings side by side as they’re presented to us by the Gospel of Luke, we can use them as a meditation on humility.

The mustard seed parable reminds Jesus followers that we don’t have to have a massive amount of faith—it doesn’t work that way. We trust God to equip us for the journey of life that we’re on and whatever ministry God calls us to. We don’t have to worry that we’re not enough.

And the second teaching reminds us that we’re not following Jesus for the kudos.We’re doing it because the God of the universe loves us and heaps grace upon us. So, out of gratitude, we do our best to love God and our neighbor.Remembering that helps keep our egos in check.

These two teachings together remind us that: we have faith enough, and that’s nothing to brag about.

In fact, the word that’s translated “worthless” means something more like “someone who isn’t owed anything.” It doesn’t have the dehumanizing connotation that “worthless” does.

I’ve heard people complain before about cashiers responding to a thank you with “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome.” You’re allowed to have your opinions on etiquette, though cashiers have it hard enough without complaints like that.

But the response “no problem” illustrates the attitude of “someone who isn’t owed anything.” “No problem—I don’t want you to think that what you’re thanking me for caused me any inconvenience. I was just doing my job. It was no problem.”

When we’re focused on Jesus and on loving our neighbors as if they were Jesus themselves, we’re not worried about glory or even gratitude. No problem. The love is enough.

But we often worry we’re not enough.

Imposter syndrome bombards us. Insecurity sets in. We worry we won’t measure up. Or if we’re currently measuring up to our arbitrary standards, how long before we make a mistake and our self-image comes crashing down? How long before people see us as we really are?

Or we might worry that we as a congregation aren’t measuring up. We worry that we aren’t what we used to be. We aren’t as big. We’re getting older. We can’t do all the things we used to do. We don’t have a professional marketing plan. We don’t have a Vacation Bible School. We don’t host funeral luncheons the way we used to. We don’t have three services or an extensive music program.

It's easy to focus on what we don’t have. Just like the disciples worried they didn’t have enough faith.

But as troublesome as our reading today is, it does remind us that it’s not about us.

God gives us faith. God gives us enough faith to do what God calls us to do.

And God has called this community to feed our neighbors, body and soul, and we do, week after week. God provides. And sometimes God provides us to serve the needs of our neighbors. It may not be a mulberry tree planted in the ocean, but bags of groceries and a genuine smile for a hungry neighbor are far more practical and needed.

We have enough. We have enough to share.

And through the Holy Spirit and our amazing pantry director, Deenna, we have partnerships with other congregations, organizations, and community members who keep this ministry thriving.

God provides. Sometimes God provides other people to join us. That’s the beauty of the Beloved Community and the Body of Christ.

Today is World Communion Day. We remember that we’re part of the Body of Christ, connected through Holy Communion with followers of Jesus around the globe and throughout time.

In the Body of Christ, no part is more important than another. We’re all important and necessary. We’re united in Christ, and together we do what God calls us to—without worrying about glory or even thanks.

Thanks to God, we have enough faith to feed our neighbors—no problem. That is enough, and you are enough. Thanks be to God!

Sermon on Luke 16:1-13

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Some of Jesus’ parables seem straightforward, and others require some more unpacking. And this one is downright perplexing!

The main character was getting fired for “squandering[his boss’s] property.”

He then effectively stole a bunch of his former boss’s future profit by lowering debts owed to him.

And then, his former boss said, “Good job!”

But instead of explaining this surprising reaction, Jesus went on to teach about “children of this age” and “children of light, “dishonest wealth,” “eternal homes,” “true riches,” and not serving “two masters.”

Jesus taught over and over again that his disciples should give up their earthly possessions and not trust wealth. And yet, this parable seems to glorify committing fraud.What are we supposed to get from this?

One thing that really helped me get a better understanding of this text this week was finding out that this might be a collection of a couple different teachings that the writer of Luke put together because they had similar themes, which explains why Jesus seems to be glorifying a dishonest manager and then discouraging being dishonest and why the teaching jumps around so much.

We know that no one was following Jesus around with a tape recorder or furiously scribbled notes day by day throughout his ministry. None of the Gospels were written until decades after Jesus’ death.

That’s not to say they aren’t faithful representations of Jesus’ teachings, but they may not be completely chronologically accurate.

So, when someone sat down to write this Gospel, they wanted us to know about these teachings of Jesus, and it made sense to put a parable about gaining friends through “dishonest wealth” next to a poem about “dishonest wealth” and “true riches.”

They’re similar in theme, but we can take the pressure off trying to find a single takeaway from this whole reading. We might think of it more like listening to two songs from the same album and seeing how they enrich each other.

So, let’s look at these teachings on their own and then look for common themes.

First, we have the parable.One of the ways Jesus uses parables is to tell a story and then say, “how much more”—for instance,how much more is God going to listen to your prayers than this unjust judge listened to this persistent widow.

In today’s parable, it’s surprising that the rich man doesn’t have the dishonest manager thrown in prison either at the beginning or the end.

We can understand this parable as teaching that the manager was trusting his boss’s mercy. When his boss merely fired him, he figured he could do more to secure his future without feeling the wrath of his former boss.

Jesus, then, is essentially saying, “if the dishonest manager trusted his entire future on his boss’s mercy, how much more should Jesus followers trust God’s mercy and provision for our future?”

And with Jesus’ explanation of the parable— “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone they may welcome you into the eternal homes”—he encouraged his followers to be cunning and creative in the ways we build community.If this sketchy manager could store up favors, how much more should Jesus followers be investing in relationships instead of finding security in accumulating their own wealth?

Then, the poem that follows goes on to contrast being “faithful” with being “dishonest.”Taken on its own, it can be understood that God wants us to be faithful with the earthly things God has entrusted us with before giving us God’s true riches. We shouldshow faithfulness to God instead of wealth.

A more faithful translation of the word “wealth” that’s confusing for modern audiences is “Mammon,” a personification of wealth.It’s like wealth as a god or idol. We can’t serve both God and Mammon. Take a look at the iconography of any celebrity magazine or the holy ritual of Prime Day or Black Friday, and it’s not hard to recognize Mammon today.

So, if you take these teachings together—the parable and the poem, these two songs from the same album—they do bring richness to each other.

Jesus was encouraging his followers to renounce their service of Mammon to secure their futures and instead build community. Money doesn’t last, but relationships do. His followers should hoard friendships, not gold—stockpile community, not goods. That’s how we declare our allegiance to God instead of Mammon.

That also sets the stage for next week’s parable of the rich man and Lazarus, so stay tuned.

But these teachings are hard to hear. They go against dominant American middle-class respectability.

We’re taught that if we work hard, we’ll succeed. We shouldn’t depend on anyone else, because we should be “self-made” people. Anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and anyone who doesn’t is just lazy, and we definitely don’t want to be lazy.We’re encouraged to succeed on our own and not let others know if we’re struggling.

But that’s not the way of Jesus.The way of Jesus is not about independence but interdependence.

Depending on each other builds bonds and strengthens community. There’s an African proverb that says “if you want to go fast, go alone, but if you want to go far, go together.”

We followers of Jesus need to go far, together. It’s been 2,000 years since Jesus’ death and resurrection, and we don’t know how much longer it’ll be until the fulfillment of the Reign of God. We need to keep our stamina up—together.We need to trust each other, not Mammon.

It’s a little early, but I’m reminded of the classic Christmas film It’s a Wonderful Life, where after George Bailey has kept having to defer his dreams to help others, he faces almost certain financial ruin. After miraculously witnessing the difference he had made in so many lives, he watches in astonishment as his community rallies around him, donating the money needed to thwart the plot of greedy Mr. Potter.

The town toasts George as “the richest man in town,” and his angel companion Clarence leaves him some parting words: “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.”

George’s actions have a surprisingly similar outcome to the shrewd manager in our parable today.

Relationships formed over time can beat overwhelming circumstances and can fortify us better than any bank account.

We can depend on our merciful God and the Beloved Community gathered through the Holy Spirit.

So, be shrewd: serve God by abandoning the idol of Mammon and investing in relationships instead. Loving relationships with God and our neighbor are the true riches.Be like George Bailey and become the richest person in town.