Two Worlds: Pentecost 12: 16 August 2026

Spiritual Rhythms

“Dependable spiritual rhythms in life ground us in remarkable ways. Sometimes they morph into powerful habits that help hold life together and evade that inner fragmentation . . . Reliable rhythms matter biologically, relationally, and spiritually. Life can turn quickly sour without them.”

Peter W. Marty

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Two Worlds began in February 2023 as an extension of an Intro to Bible Study class and a desire to better understand the Revised Common Lectionary. It has since become an anchor for Adult Study in our parish, offering a steady rhythm of scripture, reflection, and resources across the church year. Today, Two Worlds serves as a digital ministry space featuring the weekly RCL readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations.

The blog is authored by Paul Rykken in consultation with Pastor Jen Hatleli of Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.


The full three‑year cycle of the Lectionary is available on the Two Worlds Home Page.

Note: Images and lay-out tend to land better on a bigger screen.

Pentecost 12 Readings

Common Themes and Connections

The readings for Pentecost 12 converge around God’s expansive mercy and the widening of the covenant community. Isaiah and the psalm proclaim that God gathers outsiders and blesses all nations, revealing a divine intention that stretches far beyond Israel alone. Paul reflects on this same mystery, insisting that God’s gifts and calling are irrevocable and that both Jews and Gentiles stand within God’s saving purpose through mercy. In Matthew, Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman dramatizes this widening circle, showing that persistent faith breaks through boundaries and reveals a God who ultimately refuses to exclude anyone.

Christ and the Canaanite Woman by Ludovio Carracci (1555-1619)

The story of Christ’s encounter with the Canaanite woman found in Matthew 15 is unsettling.

Ludovico Carracci leans into that tension by showing Jesus and the woman locked in a moment of raw human need and unexpected grace. The kneeling figure draws your eye immediately, her posture making the case for her daughter before she even speaks, while Jesus’ gesture suggests both challenge and invitation. Around them, Carracci fills the scene with onlookers whose mixed reactions mirror the discomfort in the Gospel itself — some curious, some resistant, some unsure what to make of this boundary‑breaking exchange. As a member of the influential Carracci family, Ludovico helped push Italian painting toward greater emotional realism, and you can feel that impulse here in the way he lets the drama play out through bodies, faces, and the charged space between them.

Isaiah 56 speaks with force into our moment. We live in a time when communities argue over who belongs, who is welcome, and how trust can be rebuilt after deep fractures. The prophet’s words cut through that noise. They remind us that God’s people have stood in this kind of uncertainty before — when institutions collapsed, when identity felt fragile, and when the future was anything but clear. Isaiah answers that anxiety with a call to justice, mercy, and wide‑open welcome.

Waters of Babylon (1920) by Gebhard Fugel

To hear that call, we need to know where we are in Isaiah’s long prophetic story. The book unfolds across three eras. First Isaiah (1-39) speaks from eighth‑century Judah under the pressure of Assyria. Second Isaiah (40-55) speaks hope to exiles in Babylon. Third Isaiah (56-66) — where today’s reading begins — addresses those who have returned home and now face the hard work of rebuilding a broken society. Isaiah 56 stands at the threshold of that struggle. The exiles are back, but nothing is simple. The temple lies in ruins. Social divisions run deep. Debates about purity and belonging threaten to define the future. Into that fragile moment, the prophet announces that God’s salvation is already moving — and calls the people to embody it through justice, faithfulness, and a welcome that refuses to shut anyone out.

Samuel Giere of Wartburg Seminary sharpens this point: Isaiah 56 is a deliberate reset. It reopens the covenant and stretches it beyond every boundary the community had used to decide who counts. The foreigner and the eunuch — people long excluded by law, custom, and religious practice — are not just invited in. They are promised joy in God’s presence and given “a name better than sons and daughters.” The prophet is saying something bold: God’s renewed covenant is not a gated community. It is a gathering place. God’s blessing spills outward, reaching those who were once pushed aside. “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (verse 7). That line is not a slogan. It is a mission. It tells Israel — and it tells us — that God’s future cannot be built by drawing tighter circles. It is built by practicing justice, keeping faith, and welcoming those who have been told they don’t belong.

This is where the Gospel comes alive. In Matthew 15, Jesus confronts boundary‑keeping of a different kind — purity rules that define who is clean, who is worthy, who is inside. He teaches that what defiles is not what goes into the mouth but what comes out of the heart. Then he meets a Canaanite woman whose persistence breaks open the disciples’ assumptions. Jesus steps across the boundary they thought was fixed. He embodies Isaiah’s vision: God gathers the outcasts — and then gathers “others besides those already gathered” (Isaiah 56:8).

So what does that mean for us? It means the church’s calling is not to guard the door but to widen it. Isaiah and Jesus both insist that God’s mercy is always moving outward. In a moment when our public life feels fractured and fearful, these texts invite us to trust that God is already gathering, already restoring, already breaking down the barriers we build. Our task is to live in that movement—to become communities where God’s wide mercy is not just preached but practiced, where strangers find joy, and where those once pushed aside discover that they are already at the center of God’s heart.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Musical Reflection

Folliott S. Pierpoint wrote “For the Beauty of the Earth” in 1864 while walking near his home in Bath, England, struck by the spring landscape and wanting to create a simple hymn of gratitude for creation and the gifts of daily life. His original text was meant for Communion, which is why the refrain was “Christ, our God, to thee we raise,” though later hymnals broadened it for general use. More than a century later, John Rutter (1945– ) took Pierpoint’s words and shaped them into one of his most beloved choral pieces, full of the warm, flowing lines choirs love him for. Rutter grew up in London, studied at Clare College, Cambridge, and quickly became known for music that feels both polished and immediately singable. His setting of “For the Beauty of the Earth” remains a favorite because it captures Pierpoint’s simple joy while sounding unmistakably like Rutter — bright, grateful, and beautifully crafted. I hope you enjoy the version I posted here.

Lyrics

Verse 1
For the beauty of the earth
For the beauty of the skies
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies
Over and around us lies

Chorus
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our joyful hymn of praise

Verse 2
For the beauty of the hour
Of the day and of the night
Hill and vale and tree and flower
Sun and moon and stars of light
Sun and moon and stars of light

Chorus
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our joyful hymn of praise

Verse 3
For the joy of human love
Brother, sister, parent, child
Friends on earth and friends above
For all gentle thoughts and mild
For all gentle thoughts and mild

Chorus
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our joyful hymn of praise

The Heartstrings Cello Ensemble is a small, collaborative group of cellists known for performances that blend warmth, clarity, and an easy sense of connection with audiences. Their sound leans into the natural lyricism of the cello, creating arrangements that feel both intimate and richly textured. The ensemble often mixes familiar classical repertoire with fresh, accessible selections that highlight the expressive range of the instrument. What sets them apart is the way their players listen to one another, shaping a unified sound that feels heartfelt, inviting, and true to their name.

Visit Their Website Here!

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. We have several commemorations this week, as noted.

Young Mary and the Annunciation

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) is a national church body made up of nearly 8,900 congregations across the United States and the Caribbean. It holds together a shared theology, mission, and public witness rooted in Lutheran tradition and shaped by a commitment to grace, justice, and service in the world. The ELCA is organized into 65 Synods, each serving as a regional expression of the church. Synods provide pastoral care and oversight for congregations and rostered ministers, support call processes, guide mission and ministry in their region, and connect local congregations to the wider work of the ELCA. In short, Synods are the bridge between local congregations and the national church—helping communities thrive, collaborate, and live out the gospel in their particular context.

Black River Falls ELC is a member of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin.

Two Worlds: Pentecost 11: 9 August 2026

Velkommen!

Two Worlds began in February 2023 as an extension of an Intro to Bible Study class and a desire to better understand the Revised Common Lectionary. It has since become an anchor for Adult Study in our parish, offering a steady rhythm of scripture, reflection, and resources across the church year. Today, Two Worlds serves as a digital ministry space featuring the weekly RCL readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations.

The blog is authored by Paul Rykken in consultation with Pastor Jen Hatleli of Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.


The full three‑year cycle of the Lectionary is available on the Two Worlds Home Page.

Note: Images and lay-out tend to land better on a bigger screen.

Approaching the Readings

The readings for Pentecost 11 trace a movement from fear and uncertainty toward renewed trust in God’s saving presence. Elijah’s encounter with God in the “sound of sheer silence” and the psalmist’s promise that steadfast love and faithfulness will meet both highlight how God comes with quiet mercy rather than spectacle. Paul’s teaching in Romans underscores that this mercy is meant to be proclaimed so others may call on the Lord and be saved. In Matthew, Jesus meets the disciples amid the storm, revealing that divine grace reaches people precisely when they are overwhelmed and invites them to step forward in faith.

Christ Walking on the Waters by Virgilio Mattoni (Spanish 19th Century)

Virgilio Mattoni, a Sevillian painter active in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, was known for combining academic technique with a dramatic, almost theatrical sense of religious storytelling. In Christ Walking on the Waters at Iglesia de San Pedro, he heightens the miracle’s emotional tension by contrasting the turbulent, slate‑colored sea with Christ’s calm, illuminated figure, creating a visual theology of serenity confronting chaos. The disciples’ gestures—fear, astonishment, and desperate reaching—anchor the scene in human vulnerability, a hallmark of Mattoni’s narrative style. The composition ultimately emphasizes Christ’s stabilizing presence, using light, posture, and spatial depth to convey divine authority breaking into a world overwhelmed by uncertainty.

Listen to this week’s homily here.

Christ Walking on Water by Sara Kirkeberg Raugland (Trefoldighed Church, Battle Lake, MN)

Walking in Two Worlds

We are nearing the halfway point of the Season of Pentecost — the longest stretch in the church year — and Matthew has been guiding us through a series of miracle stories these past weeks. Diana Butler Bass, historian and theologian, reminds us that miracle stories always provoke questions. Were they real? Are they metaphors? Are miracles even possible? What makes a miracle a miracle? Those questions hover over every text we read in this season, including this week’s Gospel.

Matthew 14 invites us into one of the most vivid miracle scenes in Scripture — not only Jesus walking on the water (also found in Mark 6:45–52 and John 6:16–21), but Peter’s daring attempt to join him, a detail only Matthew preserves. Before we enter that moment, I find myself returning to a childhood memory. I still remember standing in a small country church as a child, staring at an altar painting of this week’s Gospel scene. It was not the church pictured here, but that is the image. Jesus walking on the storm‑tossed water captured my imagination long before I understood its depth.

The setting matters. After feeding the five thousand (Matthew 14:13–21), Jesus withdraws to pray (14:23) while the disciples sail across the Sea of Galilee. By nightfall, a brutal storm engulfs them (14:24). At dawn, with the wind still raging, they see a figure striding toward them on the waves. Terrified, they assume it’s a ghost (14:26). Jesus answers with that unforgettable reassurance: Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid (14:27). Biblical scholars note that some version of “do not be afraid” is the most repeated command in Scripture. Sit with that for a moment or two.

Then Peter steps forward. True to form, he wants proof. Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water, he says (14:28), and he climbs out of the boat. For a moment, he walks. Then fear overtakes him, the waves rise, and he sinks (14:30). Jesus pulls him up, gently rebukes his doubt (14:31), and climbs into the boat. The storm stops. The disciples, stunned by what they have witnessed, proclaim him “Son of God” — the first time his followers use that title (14:33). What do we make of this whirlwind of a story? Let me offer two reflections.

First, Christians live in two worlds at once — the world we inhabit daily and the Kingdom that already claims us. Fear thrives in the earthly one. We fear danger, illness, change, failure, success, difference, loss, death, and the future itself. Fear traps us. Like Peter, we want to step out of the boat with confidence, trusting God to steady us. Yet our courage falters, distractions rise, and the waves swallow us. In those moments, our prayer becomes Peter’s cry: “Lord, save me!” Second, even when we falter, Jesus keeps moving toward us. He does not wait for us to master our fears or perfect our faith. He walks toward us in steadfast love, reminding us that we already belong to his Kingdom. That promise — sealed in baptism — strengthens us to face our fears with courage rooted not in bravado but in God’s presence. “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.” That is a message worth carrying into the world, especially for those who most need to hear it.

Soli Deo Gloria.

This week’s Gospel reading from Matthew 14 immediately brought a beloved hymn to mind — Eternal Father, Strong to Save (you’ll find it in the ELW on page 756). The connection feels almost instinctive because the hymn was born out of real fear and real rescue at sea. William Whiting wrote the text in 1860 after surviving a violent storm; he wanted to comfort a student who dreaded ocean travel. His words lean heavily on biblical scenes where God shows mastery over chaotic waters, and John Bacchus Dykes’ tune Melita gave the hymn its solemn, maritime character. When you hear Whiting’s plea — “for those in peril on the sea” — it’s hard not to picture the disciples straining at the oars in Matthew 14, battered by wind and waves, or Peter stepping out of the boat only to sink beneath the storm. The hymn’s heartbeat is the same as that moment in the Gospel: human fear meeting divine presence. Just as Jesus reaches out to Peter with a steady hand, the hymn trusts that God still hears, still comes near, and still brings calm where chaos once ruled.

At President Jimmy Carter’s funeral on January 9, 2025, the hymn Eternal Father, Strong to Save was sung with a quiet, reverent weight that fit both the moment and the man. Carter had begun his adult life as a Navy submariner, and the hymn’s deep roots in naval tradition made it an especially fitting tribute. Its plea for God’s protection “for those in peril on the sea” echoed Carter’s own blend of humility, courage, and service that carried him from the military to the presidency and into decades of humanitarian work. In that setting, the hymn became more than music — it was a graceful acknowledgment of the faith and vocation that shaped his long public life.

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore this week’s commemorations via the links provided under the dates.

Commemorations for the Week of 3 August

Dominic, Founder of the Order of Preachers (Dominicans) d. 8 August 1221

St. Dominic (1170–1221) was a Spanish priest whose compassion for people caught in spiritual confusion led him to found the Order of Preachers, better known as the Dominicans. He believed that preaching grounded in study, humility, and poverty was essential for renewing the church, especially in regions troubled by the Albigensian Movement. Dominic traveled constantly, teaching, debating, and forming communities devoted to learning and proclaiming the Gospel with clarity and joy. By the time of his death in Bologna, his order had already begun to spread across Europe, shaping Christian theology and education for centuries.

Visit the Dominican Friars Website Here!

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

The Episcopal News Service

Pentecost 10: 2 August 2026 (Year A)

The artist Norman Rockwell had an uncanny ability to tap into so many facets of the American character, and that gift came to mind for me during the recent World Cup. Watching that swirl of flags, languages, and sheer human variety, I found myself thinking again of Rockwell’s Golden Rule cover from the April 1961 Saturday Evening Post — one of my all‑time favorites. Soccer really is the world’s game, and that global mix of faces feels like a living echo of Rockwell’s composition. He built the painting around the biblical line “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” drawn from Matthew 7:12 and Luke 6:31, then surrounded it with people of different cultures, ages, and backgrounds. The whole thing becomes a kind of visual chorus—ordinary folks gathered around a simple moral idea meant to bind us together. In the energy of the World Cup, with millions celebrating both their differences and their shared love of the sport, you can almost feel Rockwell’s message breathing again.

Welcome and Thanks for your Visit This Week!

Two Worlds is a digital ministry space featuring the weekly Revised Common Lectionary readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations. The blog is part of the adult education program at ELC in Black River Falls, Wisconsin. Paul Rykken authors the blog in consultation with Pastor Jen Hatleli.

Note: Images and lay-out tend to land better on a bigger screen.

Thrust of the Readings

Isaiah’s invitation to “come to the waters” and receive God’s abundance sets the tone for Pentecost 10, where each reading highlights God’s generous compassion toward a people who often struggle to understand it. Psalm 145 echoes that generosity, praising the Lord who is gracious, merciful, and attentive to all who fall. Paul’s grief in Romans 9 underscores the depth of God’s covenant love—even when human hearts are divided or resistant, God’s faithfulness persists. That same divine generosity comes to life in Matthew’s feeding of the five thousand, where Jesus meets human need with overflowing provision. Together, these texts point to a God who draws people in, sustains them with mercy, and turns scarcity into surprising abundance.

The Revised Common Lectionary grew out of late‑20th‑century ecumenical work, especially the Consultation on Common Texts, which wanted churches to share a common, three‑year rhythm of Scripture shaped by the seasons of the church year. We are currently in Ordinary Time, the longest season of the church year. There are 25 Sundays between Pentecost and Christ the King Sunday, the final Sunday on the church calendar (this year on 22 November).

The weekly readings are meant to speak to one another: the Old Testament reading sets the theme, the psalm responds to that reading, the epistle widens the theological frame, and the Gospel anchors the day. Watch for that as you work your way through the four readings this week.

Right now, the World Food Programme estimates that over 282 million people are facing acute hunger worldwide — the largest hunger crisis in modern history.** Conflict, climate shocks, and economic instability are pushing families in places like Sudan, Gaza, Haiti, and the Sahel into deeper food insecurity. It’s a staggering number, and it makes the Gospel’s feeding stories feel less like distant miracles and more like urgent reminders of what compassion looks like in a hungry world. Feeding stories appear all over Scripture. Matthew gives us two (Matthew 14:13–21; 15:32–39), and Mark parallels both (Mark 6:32–44; 8:1–10). Luke offers his version (Luke 9:10–17), and John does too (John 6:1–13). These scenes echo earlier moments in Israel’s story — Elijah and the widow’s jar of meal (1 Kings 17:8–16) and Elisha feeding a crowd with a small offering (2 Kings 4:42–44). “Breaking bread” was one of Jesus’ most consistent ways of revealing who he was.

“The Miracle of Five Loaves and Two Fishes” by Anton Ritter von Perger (1838)

Three parts of this week’s Gospel always stand out to me. First, Matthew connects the feeding of the 5,000 directly to the death of John the Baptist (Matthew 14:1–12). Jesus withdraws to a “deserted place” (14:13), carrying his grief with him. (After visiting our son while he was stationed at Fort Irwin in the Mojave Desert, I have a new appreciation for how harsh such a landscape can be). Yet even there, the crowds follow — people carrying their own wounds and hopes. It’s not hard to see ourselves in that wilderness crowd during seasons when life feels barren or disorienting. Then comes the line that always stops me: “He had compassion for them” (Matthew 14:14). Compassion isn’t pity; it’s suffering‑with. Jesus consistently moved toward people who were pushed aside — children, women, the sick, the poor, anyone whose life had been diminished by power or circumstance. His compassion was embodied and active. And that compassion meets our world right now. When Jesus looks at the wilderness crowd, he sees the same human reality we see today — people longing for stability, healing, and enough food to make it through the day. The global hunger crisis reminds us that the wilderness isn’t just a biblical setting; it’s a present reality for millions.

Finally, this story shows how the Kingdom of God breaks in — not someday, but now. Jesus tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat” (Matthew 14:16), and suddenly the Kingdom looks like shared bread, shared responsibility, shared hope. When the Pharisees asked about the timing of God’s Kingdom, Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is in your midst” (Luke 17:20–21). It’s already here, already moving, already multiplying whatever small offering we bring. For Pentecost 10, the feeding of the 5,000 invites us to see compassion as Kingdom work — to notice the wilderness around us, to recognize the hunger in our communities and across the world, and to trust that God can take what we offer and turn it into abundance.

Soli Deo Gloria.

The Impressions in 1964, from left to right: Sam Gooden, Curtis Mayfield, and Fred Cash

Curtis Mayfield wrote “People Get Ready” in 1964 straight out of the gospel world he grew up in on Chicago’s South Side. You can hear the sermons, the spirituals, and that familiar train imagery from Black freedom songs running through it. When The Impressions released it the next year, their tight harmonies and Mayfield’s soaring falsetto turned what feels like a quiet, prayer‑like meditation into a national anthem of hope. Mayfield later said he was in a “very deep mood of religious inspiration” when he wrote it — and honestly, that comes through in every measure. The heart of the song — “You don’t need no baggage, you just get on board” — lines up beautifully with Isaiah 55’s invitation: “Come, all you who are thirsty… without money and without price.” Both are saying the same thing in different ways: grace is already on the move, and you don’t have to earn it or prove anything. You just open your heart and step toward what’s being offered. One reason the song has lasted so long is how far it’s traveled. Artists from all over the musical map have picked it up — Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Rod Stewart and Jeff Beck, Eva Cassidy, Kenny Rankin, and plenty more. Each one hears something in it that speaks to their moment. The Impressions’ version is still the anchor, but the sheer number of covers shows how flexible the song is. It can be a prayer, a protest, a lament, or a word of encouragement depending on who’s singing it. For Pentecost 10, “People Get Ready” feels like a modern echo of Isaiah’s feast — a reminder that God’s invitation is wide open, the train of grace is already rolling in, and the only thing we’re asked to bring is a readiness to climb aboard.

Lyrics

People get ready
There’s a train a-coming
You don’t need no baggage
You just get on board
All you need is faith
To hear the diesels humming
Don’t need no ticket
You just thank the Lord


So people get ready
For the train to Jordan
Picking up passengers’ coast to coast
Faith is the key
Open the doors and board ’em
There’s hope for all
Among those loved the most

There ain’t no room for the hopeless sinner
Who would hurt all mankind just to save his own (believe me now)
Have pity on those
Whose chances grow thinner
For there’s no hiding place against the Kingdom’s Throne


So people get ready
There’s a train a-comin’
You don’t need no baggage
You just get on board
All you need is faith
To hear the diesels humming
Don’t need no ticket
You just thank the Lord

The Impressions were a Chicago‑based R&B group whose smooth harmonies and socially aware songwriting helped shape the sound of the 1960s. With Curtis Mayfield at the creative center, they blended gospel roots, soul grooves, and messages of dignity and hope during a decade of huge cultural change. Songs like “Keep On Pushing,” “It’s All Right,” and “People Get Ready” became anthems that reached far beyond the charts. Their influence still echoes today in the work of artists who draw on that mix of musical sweetness and moral clarity.

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore this week’s commemorations via the links provided under the dates.

Saint Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, and Saint Martha by Juan de Valdés Leal, c. 1658

Follow the links if you want to go further into the stories behind the commemorations for this week in our calendar!

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

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Main Street Lutherans:
Discussions About the ELCA

Pentecost 9: 26 July 2026 (Year A)

Thanks for your Visit!

Two Worlds is a digital ministry space featuring the weekly Revised Common Lectionary readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations. The blog is part of the adult education program at ELC in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.

Note: Image and lay-out tends to land better on a bigger screen.

DISCERNMENT

Each individual Christian and each community of Christians has a unique call. Everybody can’t do everything. You get out and do what the gospel is saying… There are some people who go to prison, who develop a whole nonviolent strategy around that. There are people who live very simple lives of prayer. Some live in monasteries, some as hermits, some in families. There are doctors and lawyers who live as witnesses. There are people who use their wealth to bring about things that otherwise wouldn’t be possible. We have to get in touch with what is our unique vocation, to be a sign of hope in the world without being fanatical and thinking that everyone should do what we do. I need to trust that God will do God’s work through me if I am faithful to my vocation.

Henri Nouwen

The Road to Peace (1998)

Navigate the Blog Here

Note: You may listen to this week’s homily — note the link below the heading.

What is the Revised Common Lectionary?

The Revised Common Lectionary grew out of late‑20th‑century ecumenical work, especially the Consultation on Common Texts, which wanted churches to share a common, three‑year rhythm of Scripture shaped by the seasons of the church year. We are currently in Ordinary Time, the longest season of the church year. There are 25 Sundays between Pentecost and Christ the King Sunday, the final Sunday on the church calendar (this year on 22 November).

The weekly readings are meant to speak to one another: the Old Testament reading sets the theme, the psalm responds to that reading, the epistle widens the theological frame, and the Gospel anchors the day. Watch for that as you work your way through the four readings this week.

Pentecost 9 (Year A)

First Reading:

1 Kings 3: 5-12

Psalm 119: 129-136

Second Reading (Epistle)

Romans 8: 26-39

Gospel:

Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52



Readings are Linked


Common Themes This Week

All four readings this week highlight discernment — the ability to recognize God’s presence and choose wisely in response. Solomon asks for wisdom to govern well, the psalmist celebrates God’s word as the light that guides human choices, and Paul reminds us that the Spirit intercedes when we don’t know how to pray or act. Jesus’ parables reinforce that God’s kingdom often begins small but grows into something life‑changing, and that discerning its value leads people to give up lesser things for what truly matters. Together, these texts invite us to trust God’s guidance, seek wisdom, and recognize the quiet but powerful ways God’s kingdom takes root in our lives.

Washington by
Rembrandt Peale (1778–1860)

Discernment and its connection to leadership has been on my mind this week. Years back, I had the remarkable opportunity to spend a week in a seminar with historian Gordon Wood, one of the leading experts on the Revolution and early Republic. He suggested to us that the most important moment in George Washington’s career came at the end of the Revolutionary War — the day the commanding general and future President gave up power. In the Western world of the late eighteenth century, victorious generals usually moved in the opposite direction. Europe was crowded with monarchs, and within a generation Napoleon would seize control of France. Against that backdrop, Washington’s decision was startling. He could have seized power: the army trusted him, the public revered him, and many assumed he might become a kind of American monarch. Instead, in December of 1783, he walked into the chamber of Congress, surrendered his commission, and returned home to Mount Vernon. As he put it, “Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action; and… take my leave of all the employments of public life.” Like all leaders, Washington was complicated — and flawed. He owned enslaved people, and his ruthless policies toward Indigenous nations left deep wounds that remain part of our historical record.** Yet his decision to relinquish power still stands as a moment of discernment: a leader reading the times, recognizing his limits, and choosing restraint for the sake of the republic’s future.

Young Solomon by Kristian Zahrtmann (1843-1917)

Washington’s story prompts me to think about the centrality of decision‑making in our lives — and about the kind of discernment we should expect from our leaders when we choose them. The word discernment comes from the Latin discernere — to separate, to sift, to judge. It’s not a flashy skill, and it’s not always common among leaders. Discernment requires humility, the willingness to admit limits, and the courage to ask for guidance. This week’s readings from 1 Kings and Romans echo that same need. In 1 Kings, young Solomon has his “dream conversation” with God, and what he asks for is not wealth, not victory, not a long life — but discernment. He knows leadership demands more than ambition or strength; it requires the ability to distinguish wisely, to judge faithfully, to see clearly. That’s remarkable maturity for someone so young, especially given the complicated backstory of his family and the weight of the throne he inherited. His request pleases God precisely because it comes from humility — a recognition that he cannot lead well on his own. The Apostle Paul echoes this same dependence in Romans. He knows we often face decisions that leave us baffled, moments when we don’t even know how to pray or what to ask for. His reassurance is that the Spirit intercedes for us — that God meets us in our uncertainty and helps us carry what we cannot carry alone. And then he gives one of Scripture’s strongest promises: that all things work together for good for those who love God, and that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Washington’s humility, Solomon’s request for discernment, and Paul’s assurance of God’s steadfast love all point toward the same truth: wise decisions grow out of a deep trust in God. Discernment is not only a quality we should seek in our leaders; it is a practice we cultivate in our own lives. When we face choices that matter — in our families, our work, our communities — we are invited to adopt that same posture of humility and dependence, trusting the Spirit to guide, steady, and shape us.

Soli Deo Gloria.

“The Dream of Solomon” by Luca Giordano (Italian), 1694

“Be Thou My Vision” is rooted in an Old Irish prayer called Rop tú mo baile, traditionally linked to the 6th‑century poet St. Dallán Forgaill and often dated to the 8th century. The text survived in medieval manuscripts until 1905, when Mary Elizabeth Byrne translated it into English prose; a few years later, Eleanor Hull shaped that translation into the metered verses familiar today. Paired with the Irish folk tune Slane, the hymn carries the voice of early Celtic Christianity through the careful work of these two early‑20th‑century scholars. Its central petition — asking God to be our vision, wisdom, and true guide — echoes Solomon’s prayer in 1 Kings 3, where he seeks not power or long life but a discerning heart to lead God’s people faithfully. In singing this hymn, we join that ancient posture of humility, asking God to shape our sight and grant the wisdom needed for the work entrusted to us.

I hope you enjoy the jazz version of this familiar hymn as offered below!

Eleanor Hull (1960-1935)

LYRICS

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art;
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tow’r:
Raise Thou me heav’nward, O Pow’r of my pow’r.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heav’n’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

Saint Dallán Forgaill was a 6th‑century Irish poet and scholar shaped by the vibrant monastic culture of early Celtic Christianity. Renowned for his mastery of Gaelic learning, he became one of Ireland’s most respected early saints. Tradition holds that he was killed when raiders attacked the monastery where he lived and worked. Later legend adds that his severed head was miraculously restored to his body, prompting the attackers to repent. His legacy endures through early Irish hagiographies and the lasting influence of his theological and poetic contributions.

Pamela York (born 1971) is a Canadian‑born jazz pianist who brings a warm, melodic touch to everything she plays. She grew up studying classical piano at the Royal Conservatory, later headed to Berklee for her bachelor’s degree, and finished a master’s in jazz at the University of Tennessee, where she worked closely with pianist and composer Donald Brown. York’s recordings—ranging from straight‑ahead jazz to beautifully reimagined hymns and spirituals—show off her knack for lyrical phrasing and a gentle, singer‑like sense of melody. Now based in San Diego, she performs widely and continues to carve out a thoughtful, expressive voice in the jazz world.

Visit Pamela’s Website

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore this week’s commemorations via the links provided under the dates.

Wednesday 22 July
MARY MAGDALENE, APOSTLE

Thursday 23 July
Birgitta of Sweden, renewer of the church

Saturday 25 July
JAMES, APOSTLE

Saint Birgitta
Saint James
(Rembrandt)
Mary of Magdala (Modern Interpretation)

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

If you are seeking a church home or want to participate in our weekly on-line worship, subscribe to our YouTube Channel. All are welcome!

The Journal of Lutheran Ethics

Pentecost 8: 19 July 2026 (Year A)

Navigate Two Worlds

Welcome and Thanks for your Visit!

Two Worlds is a digital ministry space featuring the weekly Revised Common Lectionary readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations. The blog is part of the adult education program at ELC in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.

Note: Image and lay-out tends to land better on a bigger screen.

The excerpt to the right is from Warren’s book, What Grows in Weary Lands: On Christian Resilience (2026). It is an excellent book, and timely!

Tish Harrison Warren

“I’ve come to think that this phrase cheerful seriousness is what it looks like to be a resilient people. This is who the church is meant to be. We are a serious people. We do not pretend that the darkness is any less dark than it truly is. We do not presume that with enough money, technology, fame, or power, we would avoid trouble, death persecution, or pain. We do not act as if the problems in the world or our own lives are easy to solve. We take our relationships with our neighbors and with God seriously. And yet, as Jesus told his disciples to be, we remain, intentionally and authentically, ‘of good cheer.’ The reason Jesus gave his followers for remaining cheerful was not a promise that if they did their duty, all things would go their way or that they would not grow weary. Instead, he promises that ‘in the world you will have tribulation,’ yet we can rest in knowing that he has ‘overcome the world.’ The hope that Jesus has overcome the world is what orients our perseverance. It is what fuels our resilience.”

What is the Revised Common Lectionary?

The Revised Common Lectionary grew out of late‑20th‑century ecumenical work, especially the Consultation on Common Texts, which wanted churches to share a common, three‑year rhythm of Scripture shaped by the seasons of the church year. Each Sunday’s readings are meant to speak to one another: the Old Testament reading sets the theme, the psalm responds to that reading, the epistle widens the theological frame, and the Gospel anchors the day. The RCL also offers alternative first readings — usually a choice between a semi‑continuous Old Testament track that moves through major narratives and a thematic track that ties more directly to the Gospel. In the ELW, you see this in the paired options for the first reading and psalm, giving congregations the flexibility to follow the unfolding Old Testament story or lean into the Sunday’s central theme. You will note I am including an alternative reading this week.

Pentecost 8 (Year A)

First Reading:

Isaiah 44: 6-8

Alternate First Reading:
Genesis 28: 10-19a

Psalm 86: 11-17

Second Reading (Epistle)

Romans 8: 12-25

Gospel:

Matthew 13: 24-30, 36-43


Readings are Linked


Common Themes This Week

Across these readings, God’s people are reminded that the Lord alone is God, the one who speaks truth and remains faithful even when circumstances appear uncertain or unfinished. Whether through Jacob’s dream at Bethel or Isaiah’s proclamation, God reveals a presence that is both near and sustaining, guiding the faithful in the midst of vulnerability. Paul deepens this theme by describing life in the Spirit as a movement from fear to hope-filled endurance, trusting that creation itself is being renewed. Jesus’ parable of the wheat and weeds reinforces that God’s kingdom grows quietly and persistently, calling believers to patience, confidence, and steadfast trust in God’s final justice.

Spanish philosopher Ortega y Gasset once wrote, “Tell me the landscape in which you live, and I will tell you who you are.” I suspect many reading this feel that truth in the upper Great Lakes region where we live, where the scenery can stop you mid‑stride. This week’s story of Jacob’s dream brought that quote back to me — and with it the power of sacred spaces in our lives. One of mine came far from here: a late‑1970s hike over the Continental Divide on a cool Colorado morning. Out of nowhere, my father — ever the romantic — recited Psalm 121. The moment stunned me. The air, the mountains, the cadence of the psalm — it all felt charged. I honestly sensed God’s presence. Landscapes shape us. Sacred spaces shape us. They become part of our spiritual autobiography.

I’ve been thinking about this especially after reading Heidi Haverkamp’s reflection on the Genesis 28 text in the July edition of The Christian Century (page 26). She reminds us that we have relationships with places — just as we do with people. Certain landscapes, certain buildings, certain corners of the world carry a weight for us not because they are universally holier, but because they are woven into our story. They are where we encountered God, or hope, or grief, or calling. They are where something in us shifted. Jacob marks his encounter with God by naming the place Beth‑El — the house of God. Later in life, after wrestling with the mysterious figure who renames him Israel, he doesn’t mark that ground at all. Not every encounter becomes a monument. But some do. Some need to.

And that brings me to our own worship space at ELC in Black River Falls. When you look up at the carved structure above the altar, it’s easy to see why so many have called it Jacob’s Ladder — a visual echo of that Genesis story. The whole front piece draws the eye upward. Its tiered panels, haloed figures, and words like “ADORATION” and “PRAY” create a sense of movement from earth toward heaven, a kind of worship rising toward God. Whether the artist intended Jacob’s Ladder, the heavenly liturgy, or something else entirely, the effect is the same: the space feels sacred. Not because wood, brick, or stained glass are holier than other materials, but because of what has happened here. Baptisms. Funerals. Communion. Singing. Silence. Prayer. Community. As with so many places of worship, this place has shaped thousands of people.

Haverkamp reminds us that sacred places can become idols if we cling too tightly. But she also says they can be portals to the Spirit — “gates of heaven and houses of the holy.” Not because God is confined here, but because we are. We’re embodied creatures. We live in landscapes. Like our spiritual ancestors, we need places that help us remember who we are and whose we are.

So this week, as we read Jacob’s story again, I invite you to consider the landscapes that have shaped your faith. The places — wild or ordinary, ancient or recent — where you have sensed God’s presence. And I invite you to give thanks for this place, too. Not as the only gate of heaven, but as one of the gates through which God has chosen to meet us. May we honor these places without owning them. May we cherish them without clinging. And may we continue to discover, in the landscapes of our lives, the God who still speaks, still blesses, and still calls us by name.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Dream of Jacob

Murillo’s Dream of Jacob becomes even more interesting when you remember who painted it. Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617–1682) spent most of his life in Seville, creating warm, devotional images that felt closer to everyday experience than the high drama of other Baroque painters. You see that instinct here: Jacob isn’t posed like a hero, just a tired traveler asleep under a tree, while the ladder rises behind him in a soft glow and angels move with an easy, almost casual grace. Murillo’s gentle light and calm landscape fit the spiritual mood of 17th‑century Spanish art, which often aimed to make holiness feel intimate and accessible. The whole scene suggests that God’s presence doesn’t always arrive with spectacle — sometimes it slips quietly into the edges of an ordinary moment, right where a weary man lays his head.

Stephen Paulus
(1949-2014)

Brilliant composer Stephen Paulus wrote Pilgrim’s Hymn in 1995 as part of his larger work The Three Hermits, but the anthem quickly stepped out on its own. It’s one of those pieces that feels both simple and profound — a short prayer wrapped in Paulus’ warm, unmistakable harmonic language. The text leans straight into the mystery of God’s nearness: God hears before we speak, knows before we ask, and meets us in the quiet places where words fall short.

That line — “Even before we call on Your name… You hear our prayer” — lands right in the center of this week’s readings. Isaiah reminds us that God alone is God; Jacob wakes to discover holiness right under his head; the psalmist asks to be taught God’s way; Paul talks about hope that carries us through the groaning; and Jesus’ parable nudges us toward patience while God does the slow work of sorting wheat from weeds. Paulus’ text feels like it could have been lifted straight from this set of scriptures. It’s a gentle way of saying what the lectionary keeps repeating: God is already present, already listening, already working in the places we barely understand.

I hope you enjoy this excellent version from the Minnesota Choral Artists!

Lyrics

Even before we call on Your name
To ask You, O God
When we seek for the words to glorify You
You hear our prayer
Unceasing love, O unceasing love
Surpassing all we know

Glory to the Father
And to the Son
And to the Holy Spirit

Even with the darkness sealing us in
We breathe Your name
And through all the days that follow so fast
We trust in You
Endless Your grace, O endless Your grace
Beyond all mortal dream

Both now and forever
And unto ages and ages
Amen


The Minnesota Choral Artists, led by Matthew Culloton, bring a warm, polished sound and a knack for smart, engaging programming. Under Matthew’s direction — and yes, he’s the brother of Michael Culloton, who conducts the Concordia Choir — the ensemble sings with clarity, heart, and real musical intention. Their performances balance craft and connection, offering audiences choral music that feels both finely shaped and deeply human.

Visit their website for more information!

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore any via the links provided.

Monday 6 July: Bartolome de Las Casas, missionary to the Indies (d. 1566)

Bartolomé de Las Casas (1484–1566) was a Spanish Dominican friar who became one of the earliest and most forceful Christian advocates for the rights and dignity of Indigenous peoples in the Americas. Originally a participant in the colonial system, he experienced a profound conversion of conscience that led him to renounce his encomienda, enter the Dominican Order, and devote his life to exposing the brutality of Spanish conquest. Through writings such as A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies and persistent petitions to the Spanish crown, he argued that Indigenous peoples were fully human, capable of reason and faith, and entitled to justice — positions that challenged both political power and prevailing theological assumptions. The ELCA commemorates him because his witness embodies a Lutheran commitment to neighbor‑love, justice, and repentance, and because his voice continues to call the church toward solidarity with oppressed peoples and honest reckoning with the legacy of colonization.

The accompanying painting is “Fray Bartolomé de las Casas” (1875) by the Mexican artist Félix Parra, and it hangs in the Museo Nacional de Arte in Mexico City. Parra created it during a period when Mexican intellectuals were re‑examining the legacy of Spanish colonization, and the work reflects that historical moment. Las Casas is shown as a solemn, compassionate defender of Indigenous peoples, a visual interpretation of his lifelong struggle against the violence of the conquest. Parra’s style blends academic realism with moral drama: the friar stands at the center, often depicted shielding or advocating for Indigenous victims, making the painting both a tribute and a critique of the complex nature of colonial history.

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

If you are seeking a church home or want to participate in our weekly on-line worship, subscribe to our YouTube Channel. All are welcome!

The Henri Nouwen Society

Pentecost 7: 12 July 2026 (Year A)

Navigate Two Worlds

Welcome and Thanks for your Visit!

Two Worlds is a digital ministry space featuring the weekly Revised Common Lectionary readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations. The blog reflects ongoing dialogue with Pastor Jen Hatleli of ELC in Black River Falls and was first prompted by a 2023 Bible Study that set this work in motion. I do include links for further information, as noted. Images are primarily from Wikimedia Commons, and I utilize Co-Pilot for some research and editing.

Note: Image and lay-out tends to land better on a bigger screen.

Taking the Long View

Father Ken Untener
(1937-2004)

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us. No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything. This is what we are about.

We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

Pentecost 7 (Year A)

First Reading:

Isaiah 55: 10-13

Psalm 65:(1-8) 9-13

Second Reading (Epistle)

Romans 8: 1-11

Gospel:

Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23


Readings are Linked


Common Themes

The readings for Pentecost 7 gather around the promise that God’s word is both effective and life‑giving, accomplishing what God intends. Isaiah and the psalm celebrate a Creator whose generosity renews the earth, mirroring Jesus’ parable of the sower where the seed of the word takes root and bears fruit in receptive hearts. Paul’s assurance in Romans that the Spirit brings freedom and new life underscores this same movement from barrenness to flourishing. Together, the texts invite trust in God’s transforming work, which turns desolation into joy and cultivates lives shaped by the Spirit.

GIVE THIS A TRY!

The Four-Question Approach

What is something NEW you learned?

What is something that made you REFLECT?

What is something you can connect to PRIOR KNOWEDGE?

What is something you would like to FURTHER DISCUSS?

“Jesus Preaches in a Ship” by James Tissot (1836-1902)

Stories sit at the center of our humanity. I learned that from my father, Thor — many called him by his nickname, “Unk” — who was both a storyteller and active listener. He used to say, “Everyone has a story to tell, and they’re just waiting for someone to take the time to listen.” In a polarized world, that simple truth still matters. We often stop listening long before we understand the stories of “the others” in our midst. Jesus understood the power of stories, which is why parables anchor his teaching. The Gospels record more than forty of them — short, vivid narratives that slip past argument and speak to the heart. Seven appear in all three Synoptic Gospels, including today’s parable of the sower. Matthew sets the scene: Jesus steps into a boat, pushes out from shore, and teaches the crowds lining the lake. From that floating pulpit he tells stories that reveal truth to those willing to hear and unsettle those convinced they already understand.

The parable itself is simple. The sower scatters seed everywhere — on the path where birds feast, on rocky ground where sprouts collapse, among thorns that choke, and finally into good soil that yields abundance. He knows all four outcomes, yet he scatters anyway. He doesn’t guard his supply or wait for perfect conditions. He gives freely, trusting the seed’s power. That is God’s love: abundant, unguarded, poured out in places we would never choose. Jesus embodies that same pattern, spending his ministry in thorny, rocky spaces — often among people dismissed as unlikely or unworthy. The sower’s radical generosity becomes our model: scatter love widely and trust God with the growth. Isaiah voiced the same truth centuries earlier: God’s word goes out like rain and snow, watering the earth and accomplishing its purpose. It does not return empty.

And that takes me back to the reflection offered by Fr. Ken Untener I cited earlier. His words remind us that our stories, our efforts, and our ministries unfold inside a much larger work of God. In Prophets of a Future Not Our Own, he insists that God’s purposes always exceed our vision. We plant seeds we may never see sprout. We build foundations others will complete. We offer small acts of grace that grow far beyond our reach. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. His reflection pairs perfectly with the parable of the sower: scatter love freely, listen deeply to the stories around you, and trust that God is already cultivating growth in places you cannot yet imagine.

Soli Deo Gloria.

James Tissot (1836–1902) was a French artist who started out painting stylish Parisian life — lots of detail, lots of atmosphere. Later in life he had a deep religious turn and spent years traveling through the Middle East so he could paint the world of Jesus as accurately as possible. His biblical work has this documentary feel: careful textures, natural light, real landscapes and clothing.

The Sower fits that shift perfectly. Instead of an idealized figure, Tissot gives us a real farmer striding across rough ground, tossing seed with that practiced, sweeping motion. The scene feels dusty, sun‑soaked, and lived‑in. By grounding the parable in everyday labor, he helps us see the sower not as a symbol floating above real life, but as a flesh‑and‑blood picture of God’s generous, uncalculated grace.

“The Sower” by James Tissot (1836-1902)

Martin Luther wrote “Lord, Keep Us Steadfast in Your Word” in 1541, when the Reformation faced pressure from both the advancing Ottoman Empire and political forces within Europe. He first titled it “A Children’s Hymn to be Sung Against the Two Arch‑Enemies of Christ and His Holy Church,” a name that shows just how fiercely he believed the gospel needed protection in a volatile age (that title sounds so much like Luther!). The hymn calls on God to guard the church’s preaching and strengthen Christ’s people so the word can take root, grow, and bear fruit. In that way, it mirrors the Parable of the Sower: Luther urges the church to become good soil where God’s word can flourish despite every threat that tries to choke it out.

The version posted here makes me feel like I’m hearing it in the 16th Century! I hope you enjoy this interpretation.

Martin Luther
(1483-1546)

The Quintessence Ensemble is made up of three sisters — Miriam, Hannah, and Abigail Cacciacarro — who perform together as a violin‑cello‑violin trio. Each brings a strong musical background shaped by years of study, performance, and advanced Royal Conservatory of Music training. Their playing reflects both technical discipline and a deep family connection, giving their ensemble a warm, unified sound. Together, they share a commitment to growing as musicians and bringing thoughtful, expressive chamber music to a wide range of audiences.

Visit the Quintessence Ensemble Website

Lyrics

1 Lord, keep us steadfast in your Word;
curb those who by deceit or sword
would seek to overthrow your Son
and to destroy what he has done.

2 Lord Jesus Christ, your pow’r make known,
for you are Lord of lords alone;
defend your Christendom that we
may sing your praise eternally.

3 O Comforter of priceless worth,
send peace and unity on earth;
support us in our final strife
and lead us out of death to life.

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore any via the links provided.

St. Benedict of Nursia (c. 480–547) shaped Western Christianity in ways still felt today. Born in central Italy, he left the chaos of Rome as a young man to seek a life of prayer and stability. What emerged from that search was the Rule of St. Benedict — a simple, practical guide for communal life built on prayer, work, humility, and hospitality. Benedict didn’t set out to found a movement, but his Rule became the backbone of Western monasticism for centuries. His legacy is steady and quiet: a vision of Christian life rooted in balance, community, and a deep trust that God meets us in ordinary rhythms of prayer and daily work.

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

If you are seeking a church home or want to participate in our weekly on-line worship, subscribe to our YouTube Channel. All are welcome!

The Bible Project

Visit THE BIBLE PROJECT website here!

Pentecost 6: 5 July 2026 (Year A)

As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence this week, Theodore Parker (1810–1860) offers a fascinating voice from our past. A Unitarian minister and abolitionist, Parker was one of the most outspoken reformers of his time. Along with others associated with Transcendentalism in New England (think Emerson, Thoreau, and Fuller), he believed deeply in human equality and used his pulpit to challenge slavery, racism, and injustice long before the Civil War, including the dispossession of Indigenous people.

In an 1850 speech echoing paragraph two of the Declaration, Parker described what he called “the American Idea” — the belief that every person has God‑given rights, and that a true democracy must protect those rights for all people. He defined democracy as, “A government of all the people, by all the people, for all the people” (sound familiar?). He argued that America succeeds when it follows justice, equality, and freedom, and fails when it betrays those principles. Because of this, Parker insisted that slavery violated the nation’s core ideals. Parker taught that America is always a work in progress — a country that must keep striving to live up to its own promises. His ideas later influenced major leaders, including Abraham Lincoln, who directly used Parker’s phrasing in the Gettysburg Address of November 1863.

Navigate Two Worlds Here

Common Themes This Week

The readings for Pentecost 6 circle around God’s gracious character and the human struggle to live faithfully within that grace. Zechariah and the psalmist both proclaim a God who comes in compassion, lifting up those who are bowed down and offering prisoners a return to hope. Paul names the inner conflict that keeps people from doing the good they desire, pointing to God as the only source of rescue. Jesus then invites the weary and burdened into his rest, revealing that divine gentleness is the true path to renewal and life.

Pentecost 6 (Year A)

First Reading:

Zechariah 9: 9-12

Psalm 145: 8-14

Second Reading (Epistle)

Romans 7: 15-25a

Gospel:

Matthew 11: 16-19, 25-30


Readings are Linked

The Battle of Lexington
William Barnes Wollen (1857-1936)

My fascination with history started with the American Revolution — it grabbed my imagination early in life and never really let go. As we mark 250 years since our founding, I’ve been thinking again about what it means to belong to a democratic republic. I grew up loving our country in an honest way—grateful for its promise, clear‑eyed about its failures, proud yet humbled by the work still unfinished. For nearly five decades I’ve tried to help young people see their own lives inside that larger American story. The Declaration’s claim that all people are created equal still stands as a challenge before us, and the work of “liberty and justice for all” remains a calling worth pursuing.

Patriotism’s unruly sibling — politics — has also been on my mind this week, stirred in part by the ancient poetry of Zechariah, the first reading. The prophets lived through seismic political upheaval, speaking warnings and hope into the trauma of the Babylonian Exile. Zechariah wrote after the Persian king Cyrus allowed the Jewish people to return home, though many stayed behind because Jerusalem lay in ruins and the future looked bleak. To those who did return, his vision of a renewed nation and a humble Messiah riding into Jerusalem on a donkey must have sounded absurd — nothing like the power politics they knew. They longed for strength; Zechariah pointed to humility. Jesus later fulfilled that vision and overturned every assumption about power (Matthew 21:2–7; John 12:14–15).

Protestant Theologian Karl Paul Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)

That ancient and frustrating tension between power and humility echoes in modern political thought as well, especially in the work of Reinhold Niebuhr. I first encountered Niebuhr in college, and his articulation of Christian Realism has shaped my politics ever since. Niebuhr’s clear-eyed view of human nature offers a bracing critique of political life — one that feels especially relevant as we approach the nation’s Semi‑quincentennial. His reminder that “the sad duty of politics is to establish justice in a sinful world” exposes both our limits and the danger of chasing power. It also punctures the absolutism and hubris that so often dominate our political climate, especially in campaign seasons. Niebuhr’s other insight — that “democracy is finding proximate solutions to insoluble problems” — keeps me grounded. It calls us back to humility, patience, and the slow, necessary work of the common good. Easy answers rarely exist, and Niebuhr never pretended they did. His realism continues to steady my political instincts and remind me what democratic citizenship requires.

Politics frustrated Jesus too. He moved within the shadow of the Roman Empire and navigated the demands of both imperial officials and religious authorities. In this week’s Gospel, you can hear his exasperation as he critiques the Pharisees for dismissing both John the Baptist and him — each for opposite reasons (Matthew 11:16–19). He thanks God for revealing truth not to the self‑assured “wise and intelligent,” but to those open enough to receive it (verses 25–26). And then come those beautiful, restorative words in verses 27–29 — worth lingering over. Jesus continues to reveal himself, sometimes boldly, sometimes quietly, offering rest for our souls amid the turmoil of this life. May we stay the course.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Christ Enters Jerusalem (c. 1632) by Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640)

Rubens’ Christ Enters Jerusalem feels almost cinematic. He pulls you right into the swirl of Palm Sunday — Jesus riding a humble donkey while the crowd surges around him with energy and expectation. Christ stays calm at the center, a steady presence in the middle of all that motion, which sharpens the contrast between his quiet authority and the crowd’s excitement. The city rises behind him like a backdrop, hinting at the political tension waiting inside those walls. Rubens’ bold color and muscular figures make the moment feel alive, but they also underline the point: this “king” enters without force, choosing humility in a world obsessed with power.

The Battle Hymn of the Republic has long held a singular place in American civic life, rising from its Civil War origins to become one of the nation’s most recognizable patriotic songs. Julia Ward Howe (1819–1910) wrote the text in late 1861 after hearing Union troops sing the rough soldiers’ chorus John Brown’s Body. A committed Unitarian with strong abolitionist convictions, Howe carried a moral vision shaped by liberal Protestant theology and by the reform movements that animated her adult life. That night, she awoke with lines “singing” in her head—a moment she later described as a kind of divine prompting. Out of that experience came a new text, steeped in biblical imagery and ethical urgency, framing the Union cause as a struggle for justice rather than mere military victory.

Published in early 1862, Howe’s hymn quickly became a cultural touchstone, sung in camps, churches, and public gatherings as a statement of national purpose. Nearly a century later, Joan Baez revived and reshaped it during the civil rights movement, slowing its tempo and softening its martial edge to foreground its moral vision. In her hands, The Battle Hymn became less a call to arms and more a plea for righteousness and nonviolent social change—proof that a familiar national song can be reinterpreted to meet the conscience of a new era.

The hymn appears in the ELW (890) and includes verses 1, 4, and 5 of Howe’s original poem.

Lyrics

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightnings of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.


Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps:
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.”

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat:
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgement seat:
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant my feet!
Our God is marching on!


In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.
Chorus—Glory, glory, hallelujah,
While God is marching on.

Joan Baez in 2016 (b. 1941)

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore any via the links provided.

Saints Peter and Paul Russian Orthodox Church,
St. Paul Island, Alaska

Monday 29 June
PETER and PAUL, APOSTLES

Wednesday 1 July

Catherine Winkworth (d. 1878), John Mason Neale (d. 1866); hymn translators

Friday 3 July
THOMAS, APOSTLE

Saint Peter by Guercino
(1591–1666)

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

If you are seeking a church home or want to participate in our weekly on-line worship, subscribe to our YouTube Channel. All are welcome!

ELCA Witness in Society

Pentecost 5: 28 June 2026 (Year A)

Navigate Two Worlds Here

Welcome and Thanks for your Visit!

Two Worlds is a digital ministry space featuring the weekly Revised Common Lectionary readings and a brief homily, supported by images, music, and the ELCA’s weekly commemorations. Visuals come primarily from Wikimedia Commons, and I utilize Copilot (Microsoft A.I. assistant) for both research and editing. The blog reflects ongoing dialogue with Pastor Jen Hatleli of ELC in Black River Falls and was first prompted by a 2023 Bible Study that set this work in motion.

From Tish Harrison Warren
(Anglican priest and author)

“The world-renowned cellist Pablo Casals was asked why he continued to practice his instrument four or five hours a day at eighty-three years old. ‘Because I think I am making progress,’ he replied. To devote oneself fully to any craft requires the effort of a lifetime. As long as there is breath in you, my husband reminds me when I’m most discouraged, God is not finished with you — his work continues in and through you.”

Luther and the Psalms

Luther loved the Psalms, first lecturing on them in 1513–1516. His immersion in the Psalms certainly impacted the events of 1517. After the Ninety-Five Theses, Luther returned to the Psalms again and again. He started a practice of reading the Psalms through the day at seven designated times. This enabled him to read through the Psalter in two weeks. He kept disciplined at that practice throughout most of his life. He read the Psalms hundreds of times.

Stephen J. Nichols

Tabletalk Magazine
(September 2024)

Common Themes This Week

The readings for 5 Pentecost lean hard into the theme of true allegiance — what it looks like to stand with God when competing voices promise easier paths. Jeremiah exposes the tension between comforting falsehoods and the costly truth, while Psalm 89 anchors the community in God’s steadfast love and faithfulness as the only reliable ground. Paul pushes this further by insisting that real freedom comes not from doing whatever we want but from offering ourselves to God in a way that reshapes our desires and our actions. Jesus then brings it home by teaching that receiving his messengers — and offering even the smallest act of mercy — reveals a life aligned with God’s kingdom, where faithfulness is measured in both loyalty and hospitality.

Pentecost 5 (Year A)

First Reading:

Jeremiah 28: 5-9

Psalm 89: 1-4, 15-18

Second Reading (Epistle)

Romans 6: 12-23

Gospel:

Matthew 10: 40-42


Readings are Linked

When the Lectionary drops us into the prophets, I often feel like I’m back in college, pounding on the glass while my basketball teammates carried on conversations I couldn’t follow. “Let me in!” was our running joke, and honestly, I still feel that way when I hit certain Old Testament passages. This week’s reading from Jeremiah — his clash with the false prophet Hananiah — had me tapping the glass again.

First, some background. The prophetic books are dense with history and mystery. Prophets weren’t fortune‑tellers; they were God’s messengers, calling out idolatry, summoning people to repentance, and insisting on justice. Their writings stretch across three centuries (roughly 760 – 460 BCE), framed by Israel’s exile and eventual restoration. Jeremiah stands among the four Major Prophets (Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel are the other three), while twelve others form the Minor Prophets (Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malach). Together they form a chorus of warning, lament, and hope.

“Cry of prophet Jeremiah on the Ruins of Jerusalem” by Ilya Repin (1870)
The Yoke of Jeremiah

Jeremiah himself lived through seismic upheaval: the fall of Assyria, the rise of Babylon, and the brutal deportations known as the Babylonian Captivity. Nebuchadrezzar destroyed Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem (586 BCE), the heart of Israel’s spiritual life. Jeremiah, called by God before birth, interpreted these events as the consequence of Israel’s unfaithfulness. His message isolated him, yet he stayed faithful to the call. That’s the backdrop for this week’s tense exchange. In Jeremiah 28, the year is 593 BCE. King Zedekiah sits on a shaky throne. Hananiah steps forward with a message everyone wants to hear: the exile will end in two years, Babylon’s power will crumble, and all will be well. Jeremiah responds with what sounds like dry, prophetic sarcasm — “Amen… may the Lord do so” — but he doesn’t buy it. Then comes the dramatic moment: Hananiah grabs the wooden yoke Jeremiah is wearing, breaks it, and declares that God will shatter Babylon the same way. Jeremiah walks away, but God sends him back with a hard truth: Hananiah has spoken rebellion, not revelation — his words were comforting, but false. Within months, Hananiah is dead.

So what do we do with this strange, ancient confrontation? What does it say to us now? First, Jeremiah’s message still resonates. He calls us to keep God first, to reject the idols we craft — status, certainty, political identity, even religious performance. He calls us to repentance. He calls us to love our neighbors, pursue justice, and refuse the easy path of self‑deception. Jesus himself echoes Jeremiah when he overturns the moneychangers’ tables, quoting Jeremiah 7:11. Second, the story warns us about false prophets — those who tell people exactly what they want to hear. Hananiah offered comfort without truth, reassurance without repentance. We swim in a digital world thick with misinformation, half‑truths, and voices claiming moral or spiritual authority. Some even blend religious language with political ambition, a modern form of idolatry. Discernment isn’t optional; it’s a spiritual discipline. And finally, Jeremiah reminds us that the prophets were always pointing forward. They glimpsed the coming Messiah long before Bethlehem. That thread runs straight into this week’s Gospel, where Jesus speaks across time: “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” The same God who breathed through Jeremiah breathes through Christ — and still breathes through us 2,600 years later.

Soli Deo Gloria.

“Jews Mourning the Babylonian Exile” by Bendemann, 1832

Eduard Bendemann’s Jews Mourning the Babylonian Exile (1832) captures a sad moment in history — a group of Judean exiles slumped along the banks of the Euphrates, their harps hanging unused — an unmistakable nod to Psalm 137’s “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land.” Bendemann was in his early twenties when he painted it, a German artist of Jewish heritage working in the Romantic era, drawn to big emotional themes and stories of a people pushed to the edge. You can see that sensibility here: the muted colors, the stillness, the way every figure seems caught between despair and stubborn hope. The painting helped launch his career, and it also reflects a 19th‑century fascination with the Hebrew Scriptures as a mirror for national identity, suffering, and resilience. It’s a deeply human scene — ancient grief rendered by a young artist who understood something about longing and loss.

Francis Scott Key (1779-1843)
by Joseph Wood

The backstory of hymns is often fascinating and offers context that enlivens our hearing or singing. Francis Scott Key’s legacy is a complicated one. A devout Christian best known for The Star‑Spangled Banner, he also wrote hymns, including Before You, Lord, We Bow, composed in 1812 amid a young nation’s turmoil. The hymn reveals a different side of Key — less patriotic triumph, more humility and repentance — yet, like many of his generation, his life held deep contradictions: he enslaved people and defended slavery in court even as he spoke of moral responsibility and national accountability before God.

As we approach the 250th anniversary of our nation’s birth and hear this hymn from the ELW’s “National Songs” section (893), it helps to remember that Key wasn’t offering a victory song but a prayer. Its sturdy DARWALL tune carries a simple truth: a nation stands healthiest when it bows before God, not when it exalts itself. (Note: DARWALL’S 148th refers to a jubilant hymn tune written in 1770 by the English composer John Darwall. He originally composed it for the metrical setting of Psalm 148). In our fractured public moment of 2026, the hymn invites us to hold our love of country with open hands, seeking God’s guidance, correction, and renewal for the sake of our neighbors and the common good.

Lyrics

1. Before You, Lord, we bow,
Our God who reigns above
And rules the world below,
Boundless in pow’r and love.
Our thanks we bring
In joy and praise,
Our hearts we raise
To You, our King!

**2. The nation You have blest
May well Your love declare,
From foes and fears at rest,
Protected by Your care.
For this bright day,
For this fair land–
Gifts of Your hand–
Our thanks we pay.


3. May ev’ry mountain height,
Each vale and forest green,
Shine in Your Word’s pure light,
And its rich fruits be seen!
May ev’ry tongue
Be tuned to praise
And join to raise
A grateful song.

4. Earth, hear your Maker’s voice;
Your great Redeemer own;
Believe, obey, rejoice,
And worship Him alone.
Cast down your pride,
Your sin deplore,
And bow before
The Crucified.

5. And when in pow’r He comes,
Oh, may our native land
From all its rending tombs
Send forth a glorious band,
A countless throng,
With joy to sing
To heav’n’s high King
Salvation’s song!

** Verse 2 is not included in the ELW version of the hymn.

Posted simply by “Ben” on YouTube, I cannot identify this exceptional organist. I searched for various versions of this hymn and this one stood out to me, in part, because of the variations offered within the performance.

Enjoy singing along, although you may want to warn others in your midst, if necessary!

The first naval battle of the War of 1812 (23 June) as depicted by the artist William James Huggins. The HMS Belvidera encountered the USS President and USS United States, along with the sloops Hornet and Argos. The engagement occurred off the northeast coach near New York.

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation.

You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore any via the links provided.

Living Lutheran is the flagship magazine of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, offering stories, reflections, and reporting that explore how faith is lived out in daily life. It highlights the people, ministries, and global connections of the ELCA while engaging readers with thoughtful articles on theology, discipleship, justice, and contemporary issues. Designed to inform and inspire, the magazine serves as a gathering place for the diverse voices and experiences that shape Lutheran life today.

Visit the Living Lutheran Magazine Website

If you are seeking a church home or want to participate in our weekly on-line worship, subscribe to our YouTube Channel. All are welcome!

Global Refuge and World Refugee Day

Global Refuge — formerly Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service — carries forward an 85‑year legacy of welcome that resonates powerfully on World Refugee Day, honoring those forced to fell conflict or persecution (observed each year on 20 June). Since 1939, the organization has walked alongside more than 800,000 newcomers, offering resources, guidance, and a soft place to land as they rebuild their lives in the United States. Their work unfolds against the backdrop of a world in which at least 41.6 million people are refugees and more than 117 million are forcibly displaced worldwide, a reminder of the immense human need that persists (hard to wrap my brain around those numbers). The mission of Global Refuge stands as a testament to compassion in action — helping new neighbors reimagine what’s possible and ensuring that welcome remains a lived, daily commitment.

Visit the Global Refuge Website

Pentecost 4: 21 June 2026 (Year A)

From Tish Harrison Warren
(Anglican priest and author)

There was a time when, in my imagination, the story of Christianity went something like this: Jesus died on the cross for my sins. And now, jumping over two thousand years, I believe in him and ‘ask him into my heart.’ It was almost an entirely individual story. There was no need for anything other than simply me and Jesus. No need for a church. But this story makes smaller what Christ has done. Those who brace the wall of our faith are not only those we personally know. We learn the craft of faith from countless other Christians who have walked this way ahead of us.

What Grows in Weary Lands: On Christian Resilience (2026)

Pentecost 4 (Year A)

First Reading:

Jeremiah 20: 7-13

Psalm 69: 7-10 (11-15) 16-18

Second Reading (Epistle)

Romans 6: 1b-11

Gospel:

Matthew 10: 24-39


Readings are Linked

Common Themes This Week

Pentecost 4 (Year A) gathers around the tension between God’s call and the cost of faithful witness. Jeremiah’s lament and the psalmist’s cry show how obedience can draw misunderstanding, rejection, and even danger, yet both voices cling fiercely to God’s saving help. Paul reframes this struggle by insisting that those baptized into Christ already share his death and resurrection, which means they can live with a new, unshakable freedom from sin’s power. Jesus then names the hard edge of discipleship in Matthew—loyalties are reordered, risks are real, but the life found in him is worth everything.

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) is a three‑year, ecumenical cycle of Scripture readings designed to guide Christian worship through the seasons of the church year. It assigns an Old Testament reading, a psalm, an epistle, and a Gospel text for every Sunday and festival, following a pattern that highlights Matthew in Year A, Mark in Year B, and Luke in Year C, with John interwoven at key moments. Developed by the Consultation on Common Texts and released in 1994 after extensive trial use, it draws from earlier Protestant and Roman Catholic lectionary reforms. Its aim is to give congregations a balanced, shared immersion in the breadth of Scripture across time.

Jesus Teaching in Galilee
(A.I. Generated
)

One of my favorite lines about history comes from Heraclitus: “No man ever steps in the same river twice. For it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man” (more on Heraclitus below). Change is the constant in human experience. After several read-throughs of this week’s Gospel from Matthew, the words of the philosopher rose to the surface and reminded me how faith works in us. In Matthew 4-9, we walk beside Jesus as he calls disciples, teaches on the mountain, and heals with authority. Then chapter 10 shifts the scene. Jesus now coaches his apostles as they prepare to carry his message into the surrounding towns. He gives them clear instructions (5-15) and then, in stark language, warns them about the opposition they will face (16-23). Their fears were real; they were stepping into a world where religious tensions could turn deadly — much like the risks many Christians still face in parts of the world today.

Then we reach this week’s Gospel. At first glance, Jesus’ words in 24-39 sound harsh, even jarring. Division? A sword? Loss of life? It’s the last thing any of us want to hear in a fractured world. And how do we reconcile verse 34 with the seventh Beatitude: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God”? What do we do with talk of families splitting apart and losing our lives for his sake? Before we take Jesus literally, we should ask what he’s actually doing. As he sends his disciples into unfamiliar territory, he presses a hard truth on them: they must separate themselves from their former lives and their former ways of thinking. That separation will sting. People will misunderstand them. Some will reject them outright. But this break from the old self is essential if they are to carry the Gospel with integrity. The mission matters that much.

The Black River in Wisconsin

Now return to that river. Our faith journey keeps moving. Sometimes it meanders. At other times, the current rages and we’re hanging on for dear life. But it always moves. And this is where Heraclitus comes back into view. Our faith journey is not static. Like the “coming‑of‑age” moments that shaped us — often through painful separations — our Christian life calls us to grow, to shed what holds us back, to become the person God intends us to be. The river changes us as we move through it, and we are not the same people who first stepped into its waters.

The message we carry is radical and life‑altering, and not everyone wants to hear it. Paul captures this in 2 Corinthians 5:17: “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new.” Like any healthy relationship, our walk with Jesus is dynamic. He keeps nudging us toward courage, toward deeper trust, toward a willingness to speak the Gospel with clarity and love (note 26–31). He keeps shaping us into our truer selves. And that work — thankfully — takes a lifetime.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Image of the Week: Hericlitus

First‑generation Christians lived in a world shaped by Greek philosophy. Its language and ideas filled the air of the first‑century Mediterranean, and Paul, for example, knew how to move in that world. We don’t know that he read directly from those ancient texts, but it seems likely. For example, when he writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12 that we “see in a mirror, dimly,” he’s drawing on imagery that echoes long‑standing Platonic themes about limited vision and partial understanding –not because he’s quoting Plato, but because those ideas were already part of the culture. Paul speaks the language of his world, but he turns it toward something new: the revelation of Christ.

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus by Abraham Janssens c. 1601
Katharine Lee Bates (1859-1929)

As we are nearing the 250th Anniversary of the issuing of the Declaration of Independence, here’s another hymn from the section of National Songs in the ELW (#888).

America the Beautiful began as a poem Katharine Lee Bates wrote in 1893 while she was teaching English at Wellesley College. That summer she traveled west for a lecture assignment, and the trip — from the Kansas wheat fields to the breathtaking view atop Pikes Peak — left her so moved that the words poured out soon after. The tune we now know, Materna, had been written earlier by Samuel A. Ward for a different hymn, but after his death it was paired with Bates’s text, and the two fit together as if they’d been meant for each other all along. Over time, the song has become something like a national prayer, holding together gratitude for the country’s beauty and a hope that we might grow into the virtues Bates imagined — a reminder of the aspirational aspect of our story.

I hope you enjoy this great interpretation of the song by the Canadian Brass.

The Canadian Brass has this uncanny ability to make brass music feel both playful and downright irresistible. Ever since they started back in 1970, they’ve mixed top‑tier musicianship with a light touch—cracking a smile, telling a story, and pulling the audience right into the fun. Their playlist is all over the map in the best way: Bach one minute, the Beatles the next, with jazz, gospel, and Renaissance tunes sprinkled in for good measure. Their rendition of this magnificent song captures the hymn in full.

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

O beautiful for spacious skies,
   For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
   Above the fruited plain!
      America!  America!
   God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
   From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
   Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
   Across the wilderness!
      America! America!
   God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
   Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved
   In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
   And mercy more than life!
      America!  America!
   May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
   And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream
   That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
   Undimmed by human tears!
      America!  America!
   God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
   From sea to shining sea!

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation. You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore any via the links provide

Sunday 21 June

Onesimos Nesib, translator, evangelist
(d. 1931)

Onesimos Nesib (c. 1856–1931) was an Oromo boy enslaved as a child, freed by Swedish missionaries in Massawa, and educated in their school. He became one of the most influential translators in East Africa, rendering the entire Bible into Oromo—a landmark achievement that helped preserve and elevate the language. Ordained in the Evangelical Missionary Society of Sweden, he returned to his homeland to teach, preach, and establish schools despite political suspicion and repeated exile. His life stands as a remarkable story of resilience, scholarship, and a deep commitment to bringing Scripture to his own people.

Friday (19 June) is “Juneteenth.” The day invites us to remember a hard truth: freedom didn’t arrive all at once, and it didn’t arrive for everyone at the same time. The ELCA marks this day with worship and witness—lifting up the stories, songs, and ancestors who carried the long struggle toward liberation. It’s a celebration rooted in honesty, holding joy and lament in the same breath, and reminding us that God’s work of justice is still unfolding. As we honor Juneteenth, we commit ourselves again to walking that road of freedom with courage, clarity, and hope.

Explore the History of Juneteenth Here!

Pentecost 3: 14 June 2026

Something to think about this week . . . .

Many claim to have been born again, but the evidence for mature Christian discipleship is slim. In our kind of culture anything, even news about God, can be sold if it is packaged freshly; but when it loses its novelty, it goes on the garbage heap. There is a great market for religious experience in our world; there is little enthusiasm for the patient acquisition of virtue, little inclination to sign up for a long apprenticeship in what earlier generations of Christians called holiness.” (Eugene H. Peterson)

Pentecost 3

First Reading:

Exodus 19: 2-8a

Psalm 100

Second Reading:

Romans 5: 1-8

Gospel: Matthew

9:35-10:8 (9-23)

Readings are Linked

Common Themes This Week

God gathers a people, forms them, and sends them—this thread runs through all four readings. At Sinai, Israel is called to be a treasured possession and a priestly kingdom, a vocation echoed in Psalm 100’s joyful summons to serve the Lord with gladness. Paul grounds that calling in grace, reminding us that God’s love meets us “while we were still sinners,” creating a people shaped not by merit but by mercy. Jesus then embodies that mercy by sending disciples into the world to heal, proclaim, and restore, turning God’s gathered people into God’s sent people for the sake of others.

The Lectionary Journey

We are currently in Ordinary Time (the Time after Pentecost) within the ELCA. Following the major festivals of Pentecost and Trinity Sunday, the church has entered this long, “green” season focused on the steady rhythm of discipleship in everyday life. Because we are in Year A of the Revised Common Lectionary, our Sunday readings are anchored primarily in Matthew’s Gospel, highlighting themes of call and mission.

The Evangelist Matthew Inspired by an Angel (Rembrandt)

“Harassed and helpless.” Matthew’s phrase catches my attention this week — and, like so many of these episodes in the story of those first Christians, is remarkably timely. You can hear it in our public conversations, in the brittle tone of our politics, in the fatigue that hangs over so many people. Scroll social media for five minutes and you’ll see it: a culture running on fumes, anxious, cynical, and often despairing. Harassed and helpless.

As a Christian, I feel two things at once. First, a kind of shame. We live with abundance, freedom, and opportunity that most of the world can only imagine. My parents’ generation knew real deprivation; they carried that memory with them throughout their lives. They understood how fortunate we are. Our complaints, by comparison, are small. May God give us the humility to see that clearly. But second, I’m not surprised by the despair and much of it is entirely warranted. These currents run deep. They’re ancient. What we’re witnessing now is not just political exhaustion — it’s spiritual emptiness. A hollowing out. Many have stepped away from the practices and communities that once gave them meaning. They’re adrift, and the result is exactly what Matthew describes: harassed and helpless.

That’s why today’s reading from Exodus matters. Israel stands at the foot of Sinai, newly freed but not yet formed. God reminds them who they are and what they’re for: “You shall be my treasured possession… a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” Before they receive a single commandment, they receive a calling. Their identity comes first. Their mission flows from it. And that’s our story too. In a moment when the world feels frayed, God gathers us again — like those Israelites at the mountain — and reminds us who we are. Not spectators. Not cynics. Not consumers of outrage. A people set apart for mercy, justice, and hope.

Jesus sent his disciples into a world every bit as troubled as ours. He tells them to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. He equips them with compassion, not contempt. He sends them not to win arguments but to heal wounds, to announce good news, to make God credible in the world. Will it be easy? Of course not. But Paul offers that marvelous roadmap: affliction produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope. And hope — real hope, not the thin optimism of the moment — is the antidote to despair. That’s our gift. That’s our calling. In a culture that feels harassed and helpless, we carry a hope that does not disappoint. So let’s share it — boldly, humbly, and with the compassion of the One who sends us. The world needs our voice.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Head of Christ (c. 1650) Dutch School

This small portrait of Christ, painted around 1650 by an anonymous Dutch artist, reflects the era’s shift toward intimate, humanized images of Jesus. Instead of a grand, dramatic scene, we get a quiet, contemplative face — soft light, gentle modeling, and a realism that feels almost like someone you could meet on the street in 17th‑century Amsterdam. (We tend to picture Christ using our own time and place).

Dutch painters of this period often used live models for studies of Christ, hoping to capture both his humanity and his inner calm. You can sense that here: the steady gaze, the understated dignity, the warmth in the eyes. It’s a simple image, but it carries a surprising emotional weight, as if inviting the viewer into a moment of stillness.

Every so often I stumble on a piece of music that stops me in my tracks, and that happened this week when I revisited Stephen Paulus’ Hymn to the Eternal Flame. The timing felt uncanny, because we just observed the 82nd anniversary of the D‑Day landings — 6 June 1944 — a day when the world pivoted toward liberation and the long, brutal work of stopping the Nazi war machine. Paulus’ piece, written for To Be Certain of the Dawn, sits right inside that moral landscape, carrying the memory of the millions of Jewish people (and others) who were annihilated in the Holocaust. Its quiet opening feels like a single candle being lit in a dark room, and the repeated line “Each small candle lights a corner of the dark” becomes a kind of vow. By the time the voices swell together, the music feels like an act of remembrance and resistance — an echo of the same courage that pushed ashore at Normandy.

I hope you enjoy this powerful interpretation from “The Singers,” a Minnesota based group under the direction of Matthew Culloton (who now directs the Concordia Choir in Moorhead).

Lyrics

Every face is in you, every voice,
Every sorrow in you.
Every pity, every love,
Every memory, woven into fire.
Every breath is in you, every cry,
Every longing in you.
Every singing, every hope,
Every healing, woven into fire.
Every heart is in you, every tongue,
Every trembling in you,
Every blessing, every soul,
Every shining, woven into fire.

Note: The ELCA commemorates a wide range of Christians throughout the year as a way of remembering that God has worked through ordinary people in every age. These commemorations — drawn from Scripture, the early church, the Reformation, and more recent history — invite us to see faith lived out in many different vocations and cultures. They aren’t about elevating “heroes,” but about widening our sense of the communion of saints and letting their witness encourage our own. In marking these days, the church pauses to give thanks, to learn, and to be reminded that the Holy Spirit continues to shape faithful lives in every generation. You will find the full listing of them in the front of the ELW. Explore any via the links provided.

Indigenous Ministries

The ELCA’s Indigenous Ministries and Tribal Relations initiative exists to walk alongside Indigenous peoples in truth, healing, and genuine partnership. It lifts up Indigenous leadership, confronts the church’s own colonial history, and supports reconciliation through the Truth and Healing Movement. At its heart, the initiative encourages relationships rooted in respect, justice, and shared commitment so that Indigenous communities and the wider church can flourish together.

More Information Available Here!

Are You Looking for a Church Home?

Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, is part of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin (ELCA). We stream our Sunday worship at 9:30 each week. Please feel free to join us!
All are welcome!

Access our YouTube Channel here.

New and Improved Web Site!

The ELCA’s refreshed website (ELCA.org) feels a lot more welcoming, like someone finally cleared off the cluttered desk and laid out what you need right where you’d look for it. It’s easier to move around, easier to find stories and resources, and the whole thing just feels more grounded in the church’s real-life ministry. The new guided search is a nice touch too—it pulls everything together so you’re not hunting in four different places anymore.

Check it out here!