A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

By: Eleanor Wellford, Priest Associate

It’s hard to find anyone who doesn’t know the story about the Good Samaritan. Most of us probably heard it first in Sunday School when the basic lesson of good and bad behavior was taught. But there is much more to this parable than that; and like all of Jesus’ parables, there are lessons in them that we adults have a hard time learning.

On the surface, today’s story is about a man who was traveling alone on a dangerous 7-mile stretch of road from Jerusalem to Jericho and who was robbed and beaten and left for dead in the ditch. Two men passed by and didn’t help the man at all. A third man came along and cared for him, dressed his wounds and took him to an Inn where he was safe for the night.

When we go below the surface, we learn that the man lying by the side of the road was a Jew; that the first man to pass by him was a priest; and that the second one was a Levite. The third man who actually helped him was a Samaritan. Once we begin to know a little more about who these characters are, it’s only natural that we would have expectations about how they should behave. And Jesus knew that his listeners would do that.

We would expect the priest and the Levite, both religious men and well-respected members of society, to have stopped to help the dying man. And we would have expected the Samaritan – an outcast of society who shouldn’t even have been on the same road as the other travelers – to have gone nowhere near the suffering Jew. But we would be wrong on both counts.

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A Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter

By: Eleanor Wellford, Priest Associate

 

This time last year, my husband, Tenny, and I were in the middle of a project that took the rest of the year to complete. It was called downsizing! We were moving from a house that we had lived in for 20 years; and the fact that we were downsizing meant that there was no way we could bring all of our stuff with us into our new house (although my husband tried his best to do so!). We had to decide what to keep, what to give away, pack away or sell. It wasn’t easy because we had accumulated things from our own marriage but things that our parents and even grandparents didn’t know what to do with and ended up passing on to us.

Figuring out what to do with the pictures was the biggest challenge. It was easy to keep the ones of us and our children, but then there were some faded pictures of people who had lived so long ago that we had no idea who they were. Why were we still holding on to them? If we couldn’t answer that question, how could we expect our children to know what to do with them? Then we both thought: how many generations would it take before someone would look at faded pictures of us and wonder who we were?

What we just heard from John’s gospel this morning was part of what is known as Jesus’ farewell address or prayer during his last meal with his disciples. The timing is a little out of order since we’ve already celebrated Easter but the message is timeless. After Jesus and his disciples had finished eating their Passover meal together, I can imagine that there might have been an uneasy lull in the conversation giving the disciples time to wonder what was going to happen next.

What happened was that Jesus looked to heaven and prayed one last time with and for them. And from what we heard of the prayer, it sounds like Jesus was wondering who would remember him generations after he was gone. His disciples were the closest to Jesus; they were his eyewitnesses, and the survival of his memory and message would depend on them – which may be why Jesus was understandably concerned.

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A Sermon for the Great Easter Vigil

By: Eleanor Wellford, Priest Associate

Those women were busy – the ones we just heard about in Luke’s gospel. But maybe they needed to be busy so they wouldn’t have to stop and think about the awful events of the last couple of days. Maybe they weren’t ready to give into their grief and needed a job to do just to keep putting one foot in front of the other – just to keep moving forward.

It was a little before dawn on a Sunday morning when they awoke and gathered up their spices and hurried off to meet up with each other. There was no doubt in their mind about their mission. They would all walk over together to the tomb where Jesus was buried and they would use their spices to anoint the body of their friend, their teacher, their lord. It would be a way to honor him, to remember him and to give expression to their grief.

It’s not unusual to hear about the men who followed Jesus around, but Luke made a point of specifically mentioning some women by name. Mary Magdalene became known to us earlier in Luke’s gospel as a woman whom Jesus had cured of evil spirits that had humiliated and shamed her for years.

We know less about Joanna. Supposedly her husband worked for Herod which meant that he probably didn’t like that his wife was heading out to visit Jesus’ tomb. But he also probably knew better than to try to stop her.

And we know even less about the other woman named Mary. She was thought to be the mother of James, one of Jesus’ disciples. But Mary was such a popular name that it’s hard to keep them all straight!

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A Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

By: Eleanor Wellford, Priest Associate

 

Right off the bat…right in the beginning, I sense something strange about this morning’s gospel.  Luke wrote that “Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, ‘Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.’”  (Luke 13:31).  It wasn’t what Herod was planning to do that was so strange since he or a member of his family had been threatening to kill Jesus ever since he was a baby.

It was WHO delivered the message that was strange.  The Pharisees, or the very people who had been trying to trick Jesus, or trip him up, or make him look foolish, were suddenly being friendly to him in their warning about what Herod was planning to do.

Apparently, Jesus didn’t think that the messengers or the message was all that strange.  He was used to such threats and knew that “that fox”, Herod, couldn’t kill him.  That was the fate that awaited him in Jerusalem and he wasn’t there yet.  And until he was there, he still had work to do.

I’m always amazed at how Jesus knew what that work was and was able to keep his focus on his mission and ministry.  It couldn’t have been easy with all the pushback he got.  And think of all the times he was misunderstood – even by the people closest to him.  Despite all of that, he seemed to have few if any doubts about what he wanted to do or who he wanted to be – when he grew up.

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