Matthew

As God's people, we are the remnants and promise of new life.

The lectionary reading from Matthew's Gospel is the story of Jesus walking on the Sea of Galilee in the midst of a storm. In a couple of decades, anyone will be able to cross the Sea of Galilee on foot because of climate change.

I am writing a sermon on Matthew 14: 22-33, the passage wherein Jesus invites Peter to get out of the boat and walk on the water with him…in the midst of a storm.  Peter has always seemed to me to be the naïve, overeager, overachiever type.

Thomas Merton's conversion to Catholicism is among the most celebrated of the last century. But to which kind of Catholicism did Merton convert?

At this year's great Vigil of Easter, our congregation welcomed four new adult members: three women and one of their husbands.

Of all the Gospel writers, Matthew has his eye most fixed upon the leadership of the church.

Before his questioning of the doctrine of hell sparked such a (ahem) firestorm, Rob Bell wrote in Velvet Elvis a chapter about yokes.

"Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!" says the bold, insensitive prophet.

At my baptism, I giggled.

On Palm Sunday we can answer the question, "Who is this?"

I have finally gotten around to putting away the green garden hose I tripped over all fall. After some extended travel time, the sudden frigid weather caught me off guard. Trying to coil cold plastic hose in a chilly garage seems impossible. Getting the job done properly requires time and patience. I was determined to take hours if necessary and to do it with humor and the long view.

Learning to see in new ways is one of the most difficult tasks of the transformed life. Old habits of selective vision, old choices about what to leave out and what to focus on tend to dominate us, even as we search for new ways of living that are in closer communion with the life of the Spirit. Transfiguration--that mysterious transformation of vision that is narrated in today's readings--is a radical, if brief, way of illumination.

This is not a Sunday for soft-pedalling the gospel. Moses and Jesus portray the life of faith as a "yes" or a "no" to God with lives that obey or that disobey. It is little wonder that it is common to summarize Jesus' teachings in the Sermon on the Mount with one verse, the "Golden Rule" (Matthew 7:12).

Epiphany is the season uniquely applicable to us who are Gentiles, the grafted-on branches to the tree of salvation, those who do well to marvel at the magnitude of the grace of God Christ that includes us. This is not common in our religiously pluralist setting, especially in our part of the world where the common assumption is that we're not grafted on at all--we're mainstream.

There are places where Epiphany light shines through people who do the best of things in the worst of times.

There's an interesting variation between the New International and New Revised Standard versions of Isaiah 63:9. The NIV expresses quite beautifully that "the angel of his presence saved them," while the NRSV contends that "it was no messenger or angel but his presence that saved them." Both convey Isaiah's revelation that God does not plan to redeem creation by force, by tinkering with free will, or from afar. God redeems creation by becoming one of us, by drawing near to us and being with us.