3 Easter (Year A)
Luke 24:13-35
St. John’s, West Seneca
April 19, 2026
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
The Road to Emmaus has been called the best short story of all time, and no wonder. It has all the ingredients of a great read. A road trip, a stranger joining the conversation, an epiphany.
However, what captures me is the road. The road is not only a reality that we travel daily. Of course, we drive, but in the not-so-distant past, most walked. I love a road trip. There is no better way to see a country, provided you get off the main highway. It takes time, and does not feel rushed. And who knows who you will run into?
So I began musing and, movie buff that I am, I began thinking about all the “road” movies that have made for great entertainment. Think of the “The Road to” movies with Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour, or Road to Perdition with Tom Hanks. There is The Road, Arlington Road, Revolutionary Road, Reservation Road and Glory Road.
Movies about roads and journeys abound: The Lord of the Rings, Green Book, Thelma and Louise, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, all come to mind. There is a new adaptation of The Odyssey. There is definitely something about being on a road, on a journey, that captures our imaginations and inspires us.
And while this Road to Emmaus is certainly one of the best, it does not lie in the past only. This is our story — the story that sums up the nature and purpose of our calling as Christians.
Think about it. There they are, these two disciples, probably as exhausted as they are discouraged as they walk the seven miles from Jerusalem to their home in Emmaus. We don’t know why they have left the company of their fellow disciples, only that they are now walking home. It reminds me of the Latin phrase “Solvitur ambulando,” which means to work out a problem while walking.
And who should meet them on their weary way but Jesus. He does not meet them in Jerusalem, or in their home. He simply joins them. He does not ask for them to do something extraordinary. Rather, Jesus meets them where they are – on the road, as part of their journey. And Jesus meets them at a low point; they are sad, perhaps despondent. They don’t recognize him and so they do not change their expression or their tone when they ask if he is the only one who has not heard.
Jesus opens up the Scriptures, helping them to make sense of what has just happened, but continues with all of Scripture, so that they see that God is at work, with redemption that comes through the cross. And just as Jesus is to continue, Cleopas and the other traveler invite him to stay with them. They share a meal, and as the bread is lifted and blessed, broken and given to them, they see. Not in a great vision with fancy effects, but in this simple and symbolic act. Their walk together had been an explanation of Scripture and the sharing of a meal, and they realize that they are in the presence not just of Jesus, but God the Father who began it all by calling for light in the darkness.
Then he is gone, and they realize that they should have known by the way they felt. And now they will go as well, because a story like that has to be told. “That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem, and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”
Luke deliberately doesn’t name the other disciple, leaving that so you can be on the road to Emmaus as well. Can you find yourself in this story? Because this is what we do. For we are blessed to be called to this meal weekly, to gather around, knowing that Jesus comes to meet us where we are and wherever our journey takes us.
“And if you have any doubt that this is exactly what Luke is telling us, consider the scope of this passage.
"In particular, notice that if you took out the Emmaus story and skipped from verse 12 to verse 36 you’d hardly miss a beat. Luke has clearly inserted this post-resurrection appearance story into an otherwise relatively stable tradition. Why? To respond to the heart’s desire of later Christians to see and experience the resurrected Christ just as the first believers did.
"Last week we listened to John’s story of Thomas where Jesus blesses all those Christians who have believed without seeing. This week it’s Luke’s turn, as he offers in this passage a word for those Christians who come later, starting with ‘these two’ and continuing on to each and every one since, now coming — though not concluding! — with those who will gather this Sunday as we interpret the Scriptures and share the bread.
"It’s not a bad pattern to emulate, is it? Meet people where they are. Open up the Scriptures so that they can make sense of their lives in light of God’s mercy. Gather them to the meal that they might behold and be nourished by Christ’s own presence. And send them on their way, back into the world to partner in God’s work and to share God’s grace.”
Barbara Lundblad writes: “Hopefully, you now know that this is not just a story about two disciples on the road to Emmaus two thousand years ago. There are two disciples. One was named Cleopas, and the other? The other is you. Or me. Luke left a blank space for us to fill in our own names. All our hopelessness is there on the road, every broken-down dream, every doubt we’ve ever had or still have. Are you waiting for a clearer revelation, for deeper assurance of Jesus’ presence in your life? I would like that, too, and some days, that assurance is as close as my own breathing. But not always…
"The journey of faith moves slowly frame by frame, most of the segments utterly ordinary. A few still photographs hold particular moments we might dare call revelation. Along the way we are sustained as they were by hearing over and over words of scripture we have heard before. Sometimes, it happens that our hearts are opened and we hear as though for the first time. Then at a table or an altar, beside a hospital bed or in a nursing home, someone takes bread, blesses and breaks it and holds it out. One of those who receives the bread is named Cleopas. And the other? You know.”
Think of the important roads in your life, where you have been led, how you got there, who you met on the way. You will find that Jesus has always walked with you. Sometimes you have recognized him, and sometimes not. However, God has accompanied His people for centuries, and He is true to His promises. There is a proverb that says “Some roads are not meant to be traveled alone.” I would argue that with God, we do not travel alone on any road. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria.
2 Easter (Year A)
John 20: 19-31
St. John’s, West Seneca
April 12, 2026
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
A Presbyerian pastor by the name of Barbara Jordan, in a piece called “Thomas Doubting”, writes this: “How easy is it to label someone? We do it all the time. When a coworker doesn’t complete a project on time, we call her a procrastinator. When a neighbor lets the weeds grow wild and rarely mows the yard, we call him lazy. When a classmate calls us friend then talks about us behind our backs, we call him a traitor.”
Today we have before us Thomas, one of the twelve. Thomas has – I believe – suffered because of this label. Often, to be called a “Doubting Thomas”, is either a reprimand at best, and at worst, an insult. We do need to consider Thomas from a different perspective; we do need to look at him not as one who is lacking, but as one who needs to believe.
We are told by John in today’s text, that ten of the disciples have gathered in the upper room, doors locked, for “fear of the Jews”. For whatever reason, Thomas was not there. Perhaps he was grieving in private, or searching the city and himself for answers or clues. Whatever the situation, the disciples were gathered and Jesus appeared, coming through the wall. A professor of mine once said that Jesus had no choice but to miraculously enter through the door, because if he had simply knocked and announced his name, there would have been a pile of bodies on the street beneath that Upper Room. Jesus enters the room, and greets his disciples with “Peace be with you”. When Thomas is told of this, John tells us that he said that he needed to touch Jesus in order to believe. Thomas is at a disadvantage, for the ten had seen him, been in his presence. Thomas – who no doubt believed his fellow disciples – simply needed the physical presence of Jesus, not so much to be sure, but to have the experience of which the disciples spoke. And it happens, when they are gathered once again and Jesus appears and Thomas – at that point – has no need to put his hands on Jesus’s wounds.
Labels – once used – are hard to get rid of. Who first called Thomas the doubter? Who knows? The problem with labels (like those words we use), is not only can they be cruel or even ridiculous, but they tell so little of the person. History is replete with labels. Consider Ethelred the Unready, Louis the Fat, or Sigrid the Strong-Minded, who as a Viking queen, had suitors who displeased her killed. Or consider, General John Pope, who lost the battle of Second Bull Run, and who, for his blustery and ill-planned ways, had earned the nickname “Headquarters in the Saddle,” leaving his skeptics to say that he had his “headquarters where his hindquarters should have been.” Some do probably accurately describe a person, but most do not, especially when it comes to slang terms.
See what labels do? Labels mess up the context, and when we simply label Thomas as the doubter, we are reducing him to one incident. Who among us has not doubted? How many of us don’t take little things on faith?
- How many of us check the carton of eggs for cracks?
- Or, if purchasing fast food, check the order to make sure all is there?
- Or, like some, who do not want direct deposit, because we want to actually touch our money?
- How many of us pinch ourselves when really good things happen?
Labeling too often only considers too little of the person. Thomas is an active disciple in the Gospels. Thomas – after all – was chosen by Jesus and followed him faithfully for three years. Thomas was the one who said that he would gladly go with Jesus to Jerusalem, and die with him. And in today’s text, we find him asking for evidence and when presented, simply does not need it. And there are many that we simply do not know about Thomas’s life. Tradition has it that Thomas took the good news to India, where he was martyred.
Labels reduce us. Like the label on any can of food, it simply lists statistics. The names we use for one another do the same. Labels keep us from seeing others as human beings, just like us.
So, let me share one of the articles I keep in a file to be used at a later time. This man did not care about labels.
“In 1948, Ed Sullivan shook Nat King Cole’s hand on live television. Sponsors threatened to flee. So he shook it again. And again. And again—every week for twenty-three years.
Ed Sullivan wasn’t a gifted performer.
He couldn’t sing. Couldn’t dance. Wasn’t charming. He stood stiffly under the lights, spoke in a halting monotone, and always looked slightly uneasy in his suit.
Critics said he had the warmth of a plank of wood.
They missed the point.
Ed Sullivan changed American culture more deeply than almost anyone in television history—not through talent, but through a stubborn, unyielding refusal to bend on dignity.
The Ed Sullivan Show premiered on June 20, 1948, originally called Toast of the Town. It was a variety show—something different every week. Comics. Acrobats. Broadway singers. Opera. Circus acts. Music.
And from the beginning, Sullivan did something almost no one else would.
He booked Black performers.
Not tucked away. Not isolated into ‘special’ episodes. Not separated or diminished. They appeared alongside white performers, introduced the same way, treated the same way.
This was 1948.
America was still legally segregated. Interracial marriage was illegal in most states. Black Americans couldn’t share schools, restaurants, water fountains, or movie theaters with white Americans.
And Ed Sullivan put Black excellence into American living rooms every Sunday night.
On July 18, 1948—just the fifth episode—Sullivan paired Ella Fitzgerald with Bill “Bojangles” Robinson. She sang with breathtaking ease. He danced with masterful precision. It was joy on display, broadcast across a divided nation.
For many white viewers, it was the first time they had ever seen Black artists treated with open respect on television.
Sullivan kept going.
Louis Armstrong. Nat King Cole. Pearl Bailey. Lena Horne. Duke Ellington. Count Basie.
And he didn’t keep his distance.
He shook hands. Kissed cheeks. Talked warmly on camera. Treated them as stars.
That basic humanity enraged sponsors.
Southern affiliates refused to air episodes. Advertisers demanded he stop ‘fraternizing.’ Letters poured in accusing him of corruption and indecency.
Sullivan refused.
When he kissed Pearl Bailey on the cheek in 1952, sponsors exploded. He didn’t apologize. He booked her again.
He didn’t lecture America. He didn’t claim activism.
He simply refused to participate in humiliation.
Week after week. Year after year.
In 1956, he introduced Elvis Presley—music rooted in Black culture—into white living rooms. In 1964, he introduced The Beatles to America, launching a cultural earthquake.
But he never abandoned Black artists while elevating white ones.
James Brown. The Supremes. The Temptations. The Jackson 5.
The soundtrack of integration unfolded live on television.
Ella Fitzgerald appeared eight times over twenty-one years. She later said Sullivan gave people “a new beginning.”
That was his power.
Black performers trusted him to treat them with dignity. White audiences trusted him enough to let him challenge their assumptions.
He used that trust quietly, carefully, relentlessly.
By the time the show ended in 1971, integrated television was normal.
But it wasn’t inevitable.
It happened because one stiff, awkward man refused to segregate his stage.
Ed Sullivan wasn’t flashy.
He wasn’t cool.
He wasn’t beloved for charisma.
But he was decent.
And sometimes decency—practiced consistently, without compromise—changes everything.
He shook Nat King Cole’s hand.
Sponsors objected.
He did it again.
For twenty-three years.
That’s integrity.”
In this season of Easter, there is new life. So be curious and challenge your assumptions. Let’s be decent to one another. It is what Jesus asks of us.
These fifty days of Easter are one celebration of new life. If we truly believe that the victory has been won, that the sting of sin and death are conquered, then we need to live like it is.
The world cries out for us to take a fresh look. Let’s forget labels altogether and join with Thomas and the disciples is saying: My Lord and my God. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria.
Easter Sunday (Year A)
Matthew 28:1-10
St. John’s, West Seneca
April 5, 2026
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Abraham Lincoln was quoted as saying these words. “It is said that an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him with the words: ‘And this, too, shall pass away.’ How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!”
This too shall pass. I imagine that is what the women who went to the tomb that first Easter morning were thinking. Grief-stricken, weeping, lonely, this too will pass.
And it did, with fanfare. There was an earthquake and an angel of the Lord appeared, rolled back the stone. The guards who had been on duty there were frozen with fear, became like dead men themselves. The angel had an announcement: “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6 He is not here, for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he[a] lay. 7 Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead,[b] and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.”
They left with fear and joy, only to be met by Jesus, who repeats the angel’s message of “fear not.” They are instructed to go and tell the good news in Galilee.
And this, too, shall pass away. The grief, the sadness, the disbelief of the events of the prior week must have all been all too clearly remembered when Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to Jesus’s tomb that first day of the week. No doubt burdened with sadness, they had gone to see the body and perhaps to finish the preparations for a proper burial that the Sabbath had cut short. As sad and unbelievable as the days had been, now all had been turned upside-down.
But did you notice the two emotions after hearing these greetings: fear and joy? And which of you wouldn't be afraid if your world had just been turned upside down by the resurrection of a friend you knew was dead and gone? And, who would not be joyful at hearing this news? The Resurrection is so powerful precisely because it shocks us with new and unexpected life.
That is why those words --And this, too, shall pass away – are so powerful.
While the resurrection is a one-time event, the resurrected life is not. We see that God has the power to raise the dead to new life. Matthew's witnesses attest to the fact that Jesus's body was raised, not just his eternal significance. They touch him and hold him, verifying that he was raised as a whole person, not as a symbol of truth and goodness and immortality. The Resurrection is not an image of victory over death - instead, it is rock-hard evidence that God has won this battle. He has won it for all of us, for all time.
I said a few weeks ago that there is always a resurrection going on.
Remember those words?
“The reason we’re here this morning is not just because a resurrection happened, but because there’s one goin’ on.
Every time I see a brother come to Christ, there’s a resurrection goin’ on.”
Every time I see…you fill in the blank.
A colleague wrote that: “Our lives are a series of losing…and of finding. Of letting go…and finding something solid to hang on to. Of dying and rising to something new. As that process unfolds again and again, God weeps alongside us. Then God calls us out of whatever tomb we’ve been in. And in ways both dramatic and small, God offers us new life in Jesus’s name." That is resurrection.
There is the story of a schoolteacher, who served on special assignment with children confined in a large city hospital. She received a routine call requesting that she visit a particular child who had been admitted and would require a long stay. She took the boy's name and room number (409) and was told by the boy's regular teacher, "We're studying nouns and adverbs now. This boy needs help so he will not fall behind."
It wasn't until the visiting teacher reached the boy's room that she realized it was located in the hospital's burn unit. No one had prepared her to confront a boy who had been horribly burned over much of his body and who was in great pain. She wanted to turn on her heel and walk out, but she stammered, "I'm the hospital teacher, and your regular teacher asked me to help you with nouns and adverbs."
Because of his condition, the boy could barely respond. The teacher stumbled through the grammar lesson, but felt guilty for asking the boy questions or trying to correct him.
The next morning, however, this teacher ran into a nurse on the burn unit who asked her, "What did you do to that boy in 409 yesterday?" The teacher started to apologize, but the nurse interrupted: "You don't understand. We've been concerned about him. But ever since you were with him yesterday, his whole attitude has changed. He's fighting back, responding to treatment, like he wants to live."
The boy himself later explained with tears rimming his eyes, "I had given up. At the lowest moment, the teacher came into my room. I suddenly realized that they wouldn't send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a dying boy, would they? I decided I wanted to get well, if they thought I could. So I prayed, asking God to help me want to live. And here I am."
There’s a resurrection going on…
I imagine that those two Marys were at their lowest moment, maybe dying a bit themselves. Many is the time I have been at that crossroads, as we all have. But there is always a resurrection going on and God wouldn’t raise his son from the dead if he didn’t want us to live, and to live joyfully. We may have fears; however, God is there to turn those fears into joy. The signs all around us may point to death and destruction, but God wants us to keep working on our nouns and adverbs. There's a lot of life yet to live, and work to be done. And that is what Easter is all about. Hallelujah! He is Risen!
Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria.
5 Lent (Year A)
John 11:1-45
St. John’s, West Seneca
March 22, 2026
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Miracles. We pray for them. We wonder about them, trying to find a rational explanation. Miracles are captivating and all through the Gospels, the writers speak of Jesus’s miracles. This is especially true for John’s Gospel, as the first half of his gospel delivers one miracle after another.
Only John never uses the word “miracle.” Rather, he speaks of signs. Each of those signs is based on something significant Jesus has done, something that helps answer the question of who he really is. And the greatest “sign” or miracle is today’s Gospel.
First, a bit of background. While Matthew, Mark, and Luke have similar accounts, John is different. Ninety percent of John’s material is unique to his gospel, with no parallel in the Synoptic Gospels. John’s timeline is different, the order of events is different, the teaching is different, and so is the teacher. For John, Jesus is the embodiment of divine wisdom. For John, Jesus is the Word.
John’s Gospel has four parts: the famous Prologue, the book of signs, the book of Glory, and the Epilogue. For the past three weeks, with some long gospel readings, we have been in the book of signs. We’ve met Nicodemus under cover of darkness, the Samaritan woman at noon, the blind man healed on the Sabbath. John has a thing about time and when events happen. And today we meet the family in Bethany who play an important part in Jesus’s life: Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. I have always thought that for Jesus, who had no home of his own, here was the closest thing, a place where, no doubt, he found love and peace and rest. A place where he could put his feet up and just hang out.
The book of signs is just that: signs. But besides the miracles and the signs and wonders, there are all sorts of personalities to meet here: the woman taken in adultery, Thomas. But most importantly, there are signs, seven of them, each one revealing a bit more about who Jesus is.
- The first is the changing of the water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee, when the best is saved for last.
- Next comes the healing of the nobleman’s son, when Jesus does not even come into contact with the boy, but speaks of wonder and belief
- The third is the healing of the crippled man at the Sheep gate in Jerusalem. He had sat there for thirty-eight years, attempting to get into the healing waters. Jesus commands him to get up and walk. And he does.
- The fourth is the feeding of the five thousand.
- The fifth? During a storm, Jesus walks upon the water.
- Last week was the sixth sign, when Jesus restores a man’s vision, a man blind since birth and a miracle that causes all kinds of discussion.
Today is the seventh, the biggest yet and the most spectacular, proving once again that God can achieve what is considered impossible. This is the prelude to the final boundary that Jesus will break. And there is so much going on in these verses; the scene changes at least four times.
First there is a report that Lazarus is ill. Then there is the plan to go to Judea. Martha comes out to meet Jesus and here's where we hear: I am the resurrection and the life. Next comes the meeting with Mary and the Jews and finally, the miracle at the tomb.
Many read this text and understand that the raising of Lazarus is a prelude, a foreshadowing of Jesus’s resurrection. And that’s true. However, as Easter approaches, we need to be careful to distinguish the two events. Jesus has raised the dead before. In Mark, the daughter of Jairus, and in Luke, the widow’s son at Nain. What is implied here is that there is a “raising” or as we might say today: a resuscitation.
For our faith to keep moving forward, ever growing, we need to keep that the resurrection is unique. This is emphasized by all the gospel writers. According to John, the resurrected Jesus was not like the resuscitated Lazarus, who was still human and therefore hindered by human limitations, including the fact that he would die again.
As for resurrection, it is new life completely. John will tell us that Jesus could enter locked rooms without being noticed. But he was not an apparition, a ghost either, as he could be touched by human hands and eat and digest and enjoy earthly food.
And, while the tomb of Jesus — like any other first-century, rock-hewn tomb — had only one door, there is no biblical evidence that Jesus went through the opening on his return to this world. None of the gospel writers tell of any witnesses who saw him actually walk out. According to the New Testament, the resurrected Jesus appears to many different people in many different places, often unexpectedly. In John, Jesus shows up in a room filled with his disciples, a room with locked doors.
What John and the other gospel writers state is that, with the resurrection of Jesus, God has inaugurated a new form of existence. It is a new life, and one that does not fit into a neat category. Rather, it transcends those categories. The raising of Lazarus points to the resurrection and eternal life. It is a powerful sign, but not the ultimate sign.
But what does this ultimate sign mean, today, in our everyday, mundane lives? How do we live the resurrected life?
From Samuel G. Freedman, Upon This Rock: Miracles of a Black Church, I give you this:
“Jesus said, ‘Loose him, and let him go.’ ‘Loose him’ means ‘Forgive him.’ We’ve got some forgivin’ to do. Take away the fetters from his hands; let him work one more time. Take the chains off his feet; let him walk one more time.
"Take the napkin off his face; let him see and speak one more time.
"The reason we’re here this morning is not just because a resurrection happened, but because there’s one goin’ on.
"Every time I see a brother come to Christ, there’s a resurrection goin’ on. Every time I see a man put down his bottle, there’s a resurrection goin’ on. Every time I see a man go back to school, there’s a resurrection goin’ on. Every time I see a man hug his son, there’s a resurrection goin’ on.
"Come forth, Lazarus. Break those chains. Throw off those fetters. Remove that napkin. Son of man, stand up on your feet.”
How many of us see resurrection that way? That all is changed. That all is new and each day brings resurrected life. We have only two weeks until Easter. When we gather on that day, I hope that Jesus’ words will give comfort and strength.
“I am the resurrection and the life.
Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,
and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.
"Do you believe this?”
Martha did. Mary did. Lazarus did. And the women at the tomb. The list goes on and on to this day, to us. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria.
4 Lent (Year A)
John 9:1-41
St. John’s, West Seneca
March 15, 2026
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
As I looked over my past sermons for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, I realized that I have preached on John’s text only a few times, going instead to the anointing of David by Samuel.
But then, I came across an extended illustration called “Nit-pickers, wound-lickers, goodness-sakers, and arm-wavers.” You cannot pass that up. The illustration speaks to this healing miracle from John, and the author suggests that there are four different ways to respond, not only to this, but to life in general. We can be nit-pickers, wound-lickers, goodness-sakers or arm-wavers. It sounds like a country western song. So let’s dive in.
Nit-Pickers: This saying comes from that dreaded school affliction: head lice. A child comes home with a note, saying that this little monster has made an appearance. And so, originally, one had to “nit-pick” through the hair to pull out each tiny egg. There were people who did this before we had shampoos and such. The hair had to be combed thoroughly, each strand, picking out each nit, or tiny egg. Not a pleasant task. If any of you remember reading The Thorn Birds, one of the first chapters deals with Meggie having lice. Her mother shaved her head, causing little Meggie to be horribly embarrassed when she then has to go to school.
Forget the lice. Many have perfected the art of nit-picking so well that they feel compelled to demonstrate their skill on every situation in their lives. “Nit-pickers are always noting what is wrong with something and someone rather than what is right. They can't enjoy anything, especially anything that has a flaw in it. With little sense of humor these pickiness-people are always looking for spiritual or theological or moral 'gotchas' to flaunt at others.”
In John’s story, it’s pretty easy to recognize the nit-pickers. The Pharisees. Instead of being elated that this man can now see, they start focusing on the Law, how Jesus has broken it by healing on the Sabbath. And then they go after the man, his friends, and his parents.
And what an accomplished nit-picker can do with just one sentence! "The wedding was so beautiful; such a shame the groom couldn't have lost a few pounds for the occasion." "Congratulations on your new promotion. But you've still got an awful lot of the ladder to climb, don't you?" "The new sanctuary looks wonderful. Of course, we'll probably never grow enough to fill it or pay for it!" Deflating joy, tarnishing triumphs - that's what nit-pickers do best.
Let’s move on to the Wound-Lickers: Remember getting a mosquito bite or a small scratch when you were a kid and then having to listen to your parents' repeated, "now don't pick at it." Of course, they had to keep telling you because there is something self-destructively fascinating about an open wound. We are drawn to it, we want to mess with it, re-examine it, pull off the scab a little at a time to see how it is healing. But this fixation can easily lead to infection - even to death.
Veterinarians must go to ridiculous-looking extremes to discourage this self-destructive instinct in their patients. In dogs and cats repetitive, damaging wound-licking can undo in a matter of minutes all the work a vet has put in on a patient for days. "Hannibal, our enormous white kuvasz with a long elegant tail, recently demonstrated the risks of wound-licking. A tiny nick on the tip of his tail became infected after repeated enthusiastic tail-waggings constantly slammed it into walls, doors, furniture and people. Three inches of infected tail was amputated and the remainder carefully stitched up. A week later Hannibal managed to get at the healing wound, licking and gnawing it open. More infection, more surgery followed. Now left with nothing but a four inch stump, Hannibal began to convalesce once more. But again the wound-licking fixation drove the dog to try and get at the healing stump. His licking caused the bandaged stump to swell and a horrible infection set in that spread throughout his whole system. Only two different kinds of head-gear (a cone and a muzzle), tranquilizers and massive amounts of antibiotics managed to save the dog's life. A tiny wound had nearly destroyed him.”
Again, the Pharisees. Even after hearing this man’s witness, they are unbelieving. They go to the man’s parents and ask for an accounting. They just cannot leave it alone. They question, trying to expose something that isn’t there. What they don’t realize is that they are re-opening their own wounds due to their own ignorance and spiritual bankruptcy.
Goodness-sakers: “Remember the old saw about the mother who had to leave her two young children alone in the house for a few minutes? Before leaving, she sternly ordered the children, 'Now don't put beans up your noses while I'm gone!' Left to their own devices it probably would have taken an eternity before those kids would have come up with such a bizarre idea, but since their mother had singled it out as an especially obnoxious act, the children were inspired. Of course, when their mother returned home, she found two children rolling around in pain with beans firmly stuffed up their noses.”
There is a distinct category of people who inspire similar kinds of contrary behavior in most of us. These are the "goodness-sakers" - those self-appointed crusaders for the promotion of righteousness. They consider themselves - and let all the rest of us know it - to be super-spiritual. Historian H. G. Wells complained about people he called "the goodness-sakers." These were people who stood around saying, "For goodness sake, why doesn't somebody do something." Or "For goodness sake, look at what they're doing."
These are the ones who are infuriating, and quite frankly, provoke us to bad thoughts.. The Pharisees in John's story invoke their relationship to Moses as a sign that they are spiritually superior. The healed man, who had shown great self-control up to this point, does get in a retort before they drive him out.
And then, the Arm-Wavers: Ah, the saving grace. “These are the people that celebrate victories, but also those who will lend support when all is not going well. Arm-wavers applaud and hoot and holler when their child's Little League team wins the big game - but they also have “it’s okay” looks when the team loses 10 in a row. Oh, they see the imperfect all around, but they are far more likely to focus on the beautiful and the good instead of the flaws. And if they see flaws, they still focus on what good can come from it.”
It isn’t until the very end of this story that we see such a person. “Here is a stunning miracle - a man blind since birth suddenly given sight - and no one celebrates. His neighbors are doubtful, his parents are worried about the religious and legal ramifications, while the Pharisees find the whole episode threatening.. Not until the healed man himself finally realizes who Jesus is and what his presence means do we get the first sign of arm-waving… when Jesus's identity finally sinks in, the man …he falls on his knees and worships the Lord.”
How do we respond? The church does not need people who pick everything apart, often while not volunteering or bothering to help.
The church does not need those who are wound-lickers. Of course we all tend to pout and feel sorry for ourselves, but we need to put a limit on it. We are a people who know and trust that God forgives, and once forgiven, it is done, “for God remembers our sins no more.” What’s more, the church is a hospital for sinners, for the wounded. And that is our strength. As one theologian put it: “Christianity is not the story of the well-fed helping the starving. It’s one beggar telling another beggar where to find the bread.”
As for the goodness-sakers, it is just too harmful to the body of Christ to criticize and offer no relief. In the church, no one is greater than the next.
What we need is to be Arm-wavers, true disciples of Jesus who know that we win some and we lose some. Or better yet, as Ralph Waldo Emerson said: "Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change.” We are not doom-and-gloom, because we know that this is God’s church, not ours. We understand that if the times are changing, then we get cracking, living out our vocation with words and actions that inspire and encourage.
As William Barclay wrote: "We have a Christian duty to encourage one another. Many a time words of praise or thanks or appreciation or cheer have kept people on their feet. Blessed is the one who speaks such a word." And, blessed are the Arm-Wavers. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria.
Taken from Homiletics, March 21, 1993.
1 Lent (Year A)
Matthew 4:1-11
St. John’s, West Seneca
February 22, 2026
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Oscar Wilde once famously said: I can resist anything…but temptation.
It is a good place to start on this first Sunday in Lent, isn’t it? If we are going to walk with Jesus to Calvary, then let us meet the challenge head-on and now.
But first we must go to the desert. In his book, Walking the Bible, the author writes: “’First, you get thirsty,’ You wake up thinking about water, you go to sleep thinking about water, you dream about water. Go wandering in the desert for days, weeks or years at a time, and water becomes the most important thing, the only thing. Water becomes life. Water becomes salvation.
"Next, you get hungry. And you stay hungry. Finally, you get tired. You get tired of the heat, you get tired of the cold, and mostly you get tired of the sand.
"The sheer demands of the desert — thirst, hunger, misery — ask a simple question: ‘What is in your heart?’ Or, put another way, ‘In what do you believe?’”
Jesus goes to the desert, that frightening place, to be tested. It is no an uncommon theme in the Bible. Moses goes through the desert, then wanders with the Israelites for 40 years. Elijah flees to the desert.
It is a place of the unknown. And who is there but the devil, who is doing the devil’s best – and even quoting Scripture - to tempt Jesus into succumbing to spectacle, to hitch his wagon to his popularity and to give the people what they want. In those forty days, with no food or water, temptation is coming fast and furious.
“If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” Let’s start small, with just a little temptation. Think about it. Would it have been too much of a stretch? After all, God had provided manna in the wilderness, and Isaiah had written: “they will not hunger or thirst.” Jesus comes back with: “It is written, ‘one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" Bread is God’s to give, not the devil’s.
The second temptation takes Jesus to the holy city, to the pinnacle of the temple: “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘he will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘on their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Again, the question arises: Why not? The prophet Malachi has said that the “Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple.” But God is not interested in this type of spectacle, and so Jesus gives his answer to this clever quoting of Scripture, and says simply: “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
Even that does not slow the tempter down. Jesus is shown all the nations of the world in all their splendor, with a promise: “All of these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” No luck. And so again, “Away with you, Satan! For it is written ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.’”
Three things, three temptations. And had Jesus wanted instant success, he would have garnered all the attention he could have desired. Turn a stone into bread. An offer of all the kingdoms of the world. A spectacle in which even the angels would appear.
I can resist anything…but temptation. But Jesus could resist temptation. Jesus, while human, is also the Son of God. He knew that temptation is so often connected to something else, impatience. You want something that is really quite innocent in itself - a piece of bread, a chance to be a leader, a sign from God - but you get into trouble because you want it now. You're unwilling either to wait for it or to work for it, so you take shortcuts - and end up getting into trouble.
But in the desert, one must wait. And that is what Lent is all about, taking one’s time in our own yearly desert. The problem is that we want it and we want it now. We would like to go from Ash Wednesday to Easter in just a few short days, skipping all that time and just getting to the point.
As Christians, we don't have to join the rush. In this season of Lent, this springtime of the soul, as the days lengthen, this time of slow growth and spiritual development, we don't have to fall into the trap of feeling that we need to grab everything we can in this “fast and furious” world. In the face of our society's often superficial style of success, the challenge is to always consider carefully how our choices serve God and the kingdom. We need to take the long view.
Jesus reminds us that "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Jesus knows that we tend to throw our money at things that matter to us. Sometimes, that is actively working to improve our neighbors' life. Too often, it's about working to get the next gadget, or worse, keeping up with the Joneses. The season of Lent is a good time to reflect on where our treasures and our hearts are, and to take the time to move them, to a healthier and holier place. Because in the end, it is all so temporary.
Remember the illustration of the Spanish aqueduct? Miguel de Unamuno tells of an ancient Roman aqueduct, located near the city of Segovia. “The aqueduct — a sort of elevated trestle over which water flows — was constructed in the year A.D. 109. For 1,800 years, the aqueduct carried cool water from the mountains to the hot and thirsty city. As many as 60 generations depended on this marvel of engineering for their drinking water.
"Then came another generation, in more recent years, who said to each other, ‘This aqueduct is an architectural marvel. It’s a historical treasure that ought to be preserved. We should give it a well-earned rest.’
"That’s exactly what they did. They detoured the water flow away from the ancient stones and channeled it through modern pipes. They put up historical markers so tourists would know who had constructed the aqueduct, and for what purpose. They celebrated the fact that their city’s water system was now modern in every way.
"But then, a strange thing began to happen. The Roman aqueduct began to fall apart. The sun beating down on its dry mortar, without the constant flow of water to cool it, caused it to crumble. In time, the massive structural stones threatened to fall. What 18 centuries of hard service had not been able to destroy, a few years of idleness nearly did.”
That is the perfect metaphor for Lent. We are that aquaduct if we do not tend to our souls. There needs to be fresh, cool water flowing through our pipes if we want to remain sturdy and upright and refreshing to others. And it is perhaps the best example I can think of for what the discipline of Lent really is. If Lent does nothing else, it reminds us that we must not be idle, or we too will crumble or perish in the desert.
Jesus could well have taken his status so early in his ministry and made it a spectacle. The crowds would have loved it, until they didn’t and needed something new.
Peter Marshall once said: “It's no sin to be tempted. It isn't the fact of having temptations that should cause us shame, but what we do with them. Temptation is an opportunity to conquer.”
Yes, my friends, the key to overcoming temptation is to know that God will provide in every way, no matter what. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria.
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