7 December 2025: 2 Advent

“When we suffer from amnesia, every form of serious authority for faith is in question, and we live unauthorized lives of faith and practice unauthorized ministries.” (Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination)

Spurred by Pope Leo’s recent travels, Creeds have been on my mind this week. In the rush of headlines—and our constant focus on domestic politics—most Americans overlook international stories. Yet Pope Leo XIV’s visit to Turkey this week — his first international trip as Pope — drew attention back to the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea. On November 28, he joined Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I and other Christian leaders in Iznik (ancient Nicaea) for an ecumenical prayer service at the ruins of the Basilica of Saint Neophytos, where the Nicene Creed was recited as a sign of unity. The Pope urged Christians to overcome “the scandal of divisions” and called for dialogue across faiths. Just days earlier, on November 23, he issued an apostolic letter, In Unitate Fidei (“In the Unity of Faith”), underscoring the enduring power of the Creed to unite Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants. His visit blended historical commemoration with a broader appeal for reconciliation and peace. Imagine if we focused more attention on stories such as these!

So, a reminder regarding creeds. In our Lectionary discussion last Sunday, we touched on the difference between creedal and non-creedal churches. Creedal traditions — i.e. Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Anglican, Lutheran, Presbyterian — formally affirm and often recite the Apostles’, Nicene, and Athanasian Creeds as authoritative summaries of faith, preserving unity with the ancient church (sidebar: In the ELCA, we say the Apostles’ Creed often, and the Nicene Creed occasionally. I cannot recall ever reciting the Athanasian Creed during worship, but that is a topic for another day). Non-creedal churches, by contrast, reject binding creeds, insisting on Sola Scriptura (“Scripture alone”) and often relying on local statements of faith. Many Baptist, non-denominational, and Restorationist congregations embody this stance, wary of elevating human words above God’s Word. Lutherans, however, have always been shaped by creeds. From the Reformation onward, Luther and his followers held fast to the three aforementioned creeds, while also writing their own confessions — like the Augsburg Confession and Luther’s Catechisms — later gathered in the Book of Concord. These creeds and confessions gave Lutherans a shared voice, safeguarded core truths about God and Christ, and distinguished them from both Catholicism and non-creedal movements. Walter Brueggemann’s opening warning rings true here. As Lutherans, we use creeds to resist amnesia, keeping memory alive and connecting us with generations of saints before us. History, yes, is important.

Thanks for your continuing interest in studying the Bible and exploring the Revised Common Lectionary! Following up from last week, my reflections will focus on the Isaiah passage. I’m also including a unique interpretation of a familiar Advent hymn, a prayer from Pope Leo XIV, and the second excerpt of an interview with Pastor Jen regarding her trip to Malawi.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for 2 Advent share strong themes of hope, justice, and preparation for God’s coming reign. Isaiah 11 envisions a shoot from the stump of Jesse—a messianic figure filled with God’s Spirit who will bring righteousness, peace, and harmony to creation. Psalm 72 echoes this vision, praying for a king who rules with justice, defends the poor, and ushers in flourishing and peace. In Romans 15, Paul ties this hope to Christ, urging believers to live in harmony and welcome one another, showing that God’s promises extend to both Jews and Gentiles. Matthew 3 introduces John the Baptist, who calls people to repentance and readiness for the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. Together, these texts highlight God’s promise of a righteous ruler, the call to communal justice and peace, and the urgent need to prepare our hearts for Christ’s coming.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for 2 Advent.” Copilot, 29 November 2025, Copilot website.

A Strategy for Reading

The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages. This is something my son Jake shared with me while attending West Point in the early 2000s (a history class), and I have used it with my students ever since. Give it a try this week!

  1. What is something NEW you learned?
  2. What is something that made you REFLECT?
  3. What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge?
  4. What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?

Focus Passage: Isaiah 11:1-10

11 A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,
    and a branch shall grow out of his roots.

The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
    the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
    the spirit of counsel and might,
    the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see
    or decide by what his ears hear,
but with righteousness he shall judge for the poor
    and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
    and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist
    and faithfulness the belt around his loins.
The wolf shall live with the lamb;
    the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the lion will feed together,
    and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze;
    their young shall lie down together;
    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
    and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
    on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
    as the waters cover the sea.
10 On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.

Isaiah
by Michelangelo (1475-1564)

A reminder: Keep in mind that the Psalm included among the lection each week is meant to echo or be a commentary on the Old Testament passage — certainly true this week!

Reflections: Prophecy in Context, Promise for Today

Hezekiah showing off his wealth to envoys of the Babylonian king (Vicente López Portaña, 1789)

Isaiah’s voice rings out again in Year A of the lectionary, and one can almost hear the thunder in his words: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.” He is speaking into the late 8th century BCE, a time when Judah was caught between empires and living under the shadow of Assyrian domination. The northern kingdom of Israel had already fallen to Assyria in 722 BCE, and Judah itself was vulnerable, its people anxious about survival and the future of David’s royal line. Into this moment of fear and uncertainty, Isaiah proclaimed hope: that from the “stump” of Jesse — the family line of David — new life would emerge. For Isaiah’s first hearers, this was not a distant messianic dream, but a promise tied to their own history, a vision of King Hezekiah whose reign brought reform, renewed trust in God, and a measure of peace even in the face of overwhelming threat. (Sidebar: Everything didn’t go well for Hezekiah. After recovering from an illness, King Hezekiah proudly showed Babylonian envoys all the treasures of his palace and armory. The prophet Isaiah rebuked him, warning that this display of wealth would lead to Judah’s riches and even his descendants being carried off into exile. This story, found in 2 Kings 20:12–19 and Isaiah 39:1–8, highlights the danger of pride and misplaced trust in human powers rather than in God).

Jesus Reading from Ancient Texts (A.I. generated 2025)

Fast forward several centuries. First generation Christians (many of whom were raised within Judaism) heard these words from Isaiah differently. They did so because their world had been reshaped by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, which reframed ancient promises in light of a Messiah who had already come rather than one still awaited. As Christians, we cannot help but hear these words through the lens of Jesus, the one who embodies wisdom, justice, and peace in ways that surpass any earthly king. Yet we must pause and honor how Jewish hearers would not have seen Jesus here; their longing was for deliverance in their own time, not centuries later. For them, Isaiah’s vision resonated with hopes for national restoration and relief from oppression, not the inauguration of a new covenant. That tension reminds us that prophecy is always heard in context, and that God’s word speaks differently across generations. In our own day, these same words continue to meet us in fresh ways — sometimes as a call to justice in our communities, sometimes as comfort in seasons of loss, and sometimes as a reminder that God’s promises are larger than any single moment. Prophecy, then, is not a static prediction but a living word.

And so, what is the takeaway for those of us in the Christian community today? Isaiah’s vision is not just about a ruler, but about a transformed world. For his original audience, the images of wolves lying with lambs and children playing safely near wild animals were not fanciful but deeply symbolic: they represented the end of violence, the undoing of fear, and the restoration of creation to harmony under God’s reign. In a society where survival often depended on strength and where predators were a constant threat, these pictures of peace would have sounded almost unimaginable — a radical reversal of the way things were. For Christians, the imagery points us toward Christ, who breaks down hostility and calls us into a kingdom where reconciliation is possible. In our own fractured time, Isaiah’s vision invites us to imagine what life could be if God’s justice truly reigned — a peace that defies division, a hope that steadies us, and a call to bring this hope to those we meet along the path.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Note: I am indebted to Cory Driver of Miami University in Ohio for his interpretation of this passage from 2022, accessed from the Working Preacher website, sponsored by Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. You can read his essay here.

We will explore this passage further in our Sunday Lectionary group using the discussion questions included in the Faithful Conversations update below.

Advent Hymn: Come Thou Long Expected Jesus

Charles Wesley (1707-1788)

Charles Wesley, principal founder of Methodism, wrote Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus in 1744, moved by both Scripture and the social needs he witnessed in England. Drawing on passages like Haggai 2:7, he framed Christ as the “dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart,” capturing the universal hope for a Savior. The hymn was first published in Hymns for the Nativity of Our Lord and later gained wider recognition when Charles Spurgeon quoted it in a Christmas sermon in 1855. Over time, it became a beloved Advent hymn across denominations. Its enduring power lies in its dual focus: remembering Christ’s birth in Bethlehem while anticipating His future reign, making it both a prayer of longing and a declaration of hope. (Hymn 254, ELW). Enjoy this unique version from Celtic Worship — feel free to sing along!

LYRICS

1. Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
hope of all the earth thou art;
dear desire of every nation,
joy of every longing heart.

2. Born thy people to deliver,
born a child and yet a King,
born to reign in us forever,
now thy gracious kingdom bring.
By thine own eternal spirit
rule in all our hearts alone;
by thine all sufficient merit,
raise us to thy glorious throne.

Celtic Worship” is an authentic expression of sung worship deeply rooted in the sound and traditions of Scottish music. As a collective of some of Scotland’s finest contemporary musicians, they share a deep desire to use their skills and giftings to praise and make known Jesus Christ. Exploring psalms, hymns and new songs, their uniquely powerful pipes-and-fiddle-led sound communicates the full range and depth of the Gospel (from their website).

Visit CELTIC WORSHIP

Prayer Reflection from Pope Leo XIV

Holy Spirit of God, you guide believers along the path of history. We thank you for inspiring the Symbols of Faith and for stirring in our hearts the joy of professing our salvation in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, consubstantial with the Father. Without him, we can do nothing. Eternal Spirit of God, rejuvenate the faith of the Church from age to age. Help us to deepen it and to return always to the essentials in order to proclaim it. So that our witness in the world may not be futile, come, Holy Spirit, with your fire of grace, to revive our faith, to enkindle us with hope, to inflame us with charity. Come, divine Comforter, source of harmony, unite the hearts and minds of believers. Come and grant us to taste the beauty of communion. Come, Love of the Father and the Son, gather us into the one flock of Christ. Show us the ways to follow, so that with your wisdom, we become once again what we are in Christ: one, so that the world may believe. Amen.

Excerpt from Pope Leo’s Apostolic Letter, In Unitate Fidei, commemorating the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, November 2025. I included a link to the full letter in my introduction this week.

Faithful Conversation Updates

Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:

1. How does understanding Isaiah’s prophecy in its original 8th-century BCE context — with Judah under Assyrian threat and hopes tied to King Hezekiah — change the way we as Christians interpret it through the lens of Jesus?


2. Isaiah’s vision of wolves dwelling with lambs and children safe among wild creatures symbolized a radical reversal of fear and violence. What might it look like for us today to embody that same vision of reconciliation and peace in a world still fractured by division?

THIS WEEK’S BIBLE 365
READING CHALLENGE

Monday 1 December: Deuteronomy 32-34, Psalm 64
Tuesday 2 December: Joshua 1-4, Psalm 65
Wednesday 3 December: Joshua 5-8, Psalm 66
Thursday 4 December: Joshua 9-12, Psalm 67
Friday 5 December: Joshua 13-21, Psalm 68
Saturday 6 December: Joshua 22-24, Psalm 69
Sunday 7 December: Judges 1-3, Psalm 70

Here is a LINK to the full Bible 365 Plan!

The Bible 365 Challenge!
More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.

Reflections On Malawi: Part 2

Pastor Jenny Hatleli

Since 1999, the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Malawi have been companions in ministry. Recently, several NW Synod representatives, including Pastor Jen Hatleli and Patti Whitworth from ELC, traveled there and met with many of our partners in the region. During Advent, I am posting excerpts from my interview with her about the trip. In our second exchange, she comments on how worship in Malawi challenged or deepened her understanding of faith.

30 November 2025: 1 Advent

Every culture is anchored in shared stories. They are the glue that binds people to their traditions, landscapes, and ancestors, carrying history and values across generations. Origin myths, religious texts, folk tales, and national narratives serve as collective memory, shaping how communities understand the past and orient themselves toward the future.(Richard L. Lechowick)

Richard Lechowick’s reflection on shared stories and collective memory articulates my reverence for the rhythm of the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL). This three-year journey through Scripture — embraced by many within the **catholic (see note below) Christian community — continues to shape worship and spiritual formation with its steady cadence of readings. The lectionary draws on two forces that form us at the deepest level: story and repetition. I grew up in the orbit of a storyteller — my father — who taught me to see the world through narrative. That lens still directs my teaching and mentoring, because story does more than entertain; it interprets our lives and reveals meaning in the ordinary. Each week, the RCL thrusts us into the greatest story ever told: the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We do not stand outside that story; we live inside it. Through repetition, the lectionary compels us to revisit this story from fresh angles each year. Its three-year cycle sweeps us across the breadth of Scripture, reminding us that faith grows from memory and renews itself in retelling. Story anchors us in the past, but it also illuminates the present, helping us discern who we are and how we belong to God’s unfolding narrative.

Thanks for your visit to this space again this week! There are several commemorations on the ELCA calendar this week, including three pastors from the Lutheran tradition on 24 November: Justus Falckner (1672-1723), Jehu Jones, Jr. (1786-1852), and William Passavant (1821-1894). Each has a compelling story, if you are interested to learn more. As with so many of those we commemorate, I had never heard of these three prior to now. (You will find all the commemorations on pages 14-17 in the front portion of the ELW).

Justus Falckner (1672-1723) became the first Lutheran and Protestant pastor ordained in what would become the United States. He preached, wrote hymns, and carried the Lutheran faith into the new land as a missionary.

Born into slavery, Jehu Jones Jr. (1786–1852) established one of the first African-American Lutheran congregations in the nation. He advanced the Lutheran presence by linking faith with social action, working tirelessly to improve the welfare of African Americans.

William Passavant (1821–1894) expanded Lutheranism’s reach by introducing the Lutheran Deaconess movement to the United States. Through this effort, he rooted Lutheran identity in service, creating institutions of care and social ministry that shaped American Lutheran life.

My reflections this week will center on the Isaiah reading. I’m also including a haunting Advent hymn, a prayer from this year’s Advent Devotional (ELCA), and the first installment of a conversation with Pastor Jen Hatleli reflecting on her recent travels to Malawi, Africa.

** My deliberate use of the word “catholic” in my introduction stems from a discussion within our Lectionary group on Sunday. The Inter-Lutheran Commission on Worship began using “catholic” instead of “Christian” in the Apostles’ Creed with the publication of the Lutheran Book of Worship in 1978. This change restored the original wording of the ancient creeds, where catholic meant universal rather than Roman Catholic. For centuries, many Protestant churches had substituted Christian to avoid confusion, but the ELCA chose to reclaim the historic language. By doing so, the church emphasized continuity with the early church and the ecumenical nature of the creeds. Today, the wording reminds worshippers that they belong to the one universal body of Christ, rooted in memory and renewed in retelling.

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The First Sunday of Advent readings share a common call to wakefulness, hope, and holy anticipation. Isaiah envisions a future of peace where nations stream to the mountain of the Lord, while Psalm 122 invites us to rejoice in the promise of Jerusalem’s peace and unity. Paul urges believers to awaken from spiritual slumber and cast off the works of darkness, living honorably in the light of Christ. Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, warns of the unexpected hour of his coming, calling us to stay alert and ready for the inbreaking of God’s kingdom.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for 1 Advent.” Copilot, 19 November 2025, Copilot website.

The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages. This is something my son Jake shared with me while attending West Point in the early 2000s (a history class), and I have used it with my students ever since. Give it a try this week!

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In days to come
    the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains
    and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
    Many peoples shall come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
    to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
    and that we may walk in his paths.”

For out of Zion shall go forth instruction
    and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations
    and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares
    and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation;
    neither shall they learn war any more.

O house of Jacob,
    come, let us walk
in the light of the Lord!

Isaiah
by Michelangelo (1475-1564)

Reflections: Isaiah and Jesus: Prophecy and Fulfillment

Mosaic of the prophet Isaiah (Venice)

Luther Seminary Professor Frederick Gaiser calls Isaiah “the longest and perhaps most important of the prophetic books, offering the full range of God’s prophetic message: terrifying words of judgment and comforting words of promise.” He’s right—Isaiah is not for the faint of heart.

Here’s some backstory. Isaiah, son of Amoz, lived in Jerusalem in the 8th century BCE and carried out his ministry in a time of political upheaval. He confronted kings head‑on, warning them against idolatry, injustice, and dependence on foreign powers as Assyria rose to dominance. His call came through a dramatic temple vision, and his message fused sharp judgment with enduring hope. Later generations expanded his legacy, weaving in words from the Babylonian exile and the return from captivity. Scholars divide the book into three movements: First Isaiah (1–39), addressing Assyrian threats; Second Isaiah (40–55), offering comfort and the Servant Songs during exile; and Third Isaiah (56–66), reflecting on rebuilding community and worship. Isaiah spoke with urgency in his own time, and his vision of justice and peace still shapes faith and history.

Jesus Reads from Isaiah

The Revised Common Lectionary draws heavily on Isaiah—Year A alone includes at least 24 readings, many during Advent. For Christians, Isaiah provides the essential backdrop for understanding the story of Jesus Christ. Recall that in the synagogue at Nazareth, Jesus read from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Isaiah 61:1–2; Luke 4:18–19). By choosing this passage, Jesus announced that Isaiah’s vision had come to life in him. Isaiah spoke of a servant who would bring good news, heal the broken, and shine light into darkness. Jesus claimed that mission and embodied it in his ministry. For Christians, this connection strikes at the heart of Advent: God’s promises echo through Isaiah and find their fulfillment in Christ, the one who brings freedom, healing, and hope.

The first of the Isaiah readings — 2:1–5 — speaks with urgency and hope. The prophet envisions the mountain of the Lord rising above all others, drawing nations together to learn God’s ways and walk in God’s paths. He then delivers a bold image of transformation: weapons hammered into tools for planting and pruning, war exchanged for peace, destruction turned into life. These twin themes — universal invitation and radical peace –summon us to walk in the light of the Lord and embody reconciliation in a fractured world. As Walter Brueggemann reminds us in The Prophetic Imagination, the prophets confront the dominant culture with a sharp alternative — a counter-vision. Isaiah’s vision still cuts through the noise of our age, and his call remains powerfully relevant as we enter Advent in 2025. Let our journey begin.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Advent Music: “Each Winter as the Year Grows Older”

1 Each winter as the year grows older,
we each grow older, too.
The chill sets in a little colder;
the verities we knew
seem shaken and untrue.


2 When race and class cry out for treason,
when sirens call for war,”
they over-shout the voice of reason
and scream till we ignore
all we held dear before.


3 Yet I believe beyond believing
that life can spring from death,
that growth can flower from our grieving,
that we can catch our breath
and turn transfixed by faith.


4 So even as the sun is turning
to journey to the north,
the living flame, in secret burning,
can kindle on the earth
and bring God’s love to birth.


5 O Child of ecstasy and sorrows,
O Prince of peace and pain,
brighten today’s world by tomorrow’s,
renew our lives again;
Lord Jesus, come and reign.

“Each Winter as the Year Grows Older” is a haunting hymn written in 1969 by William Gay, with music composed by his wife Annabeth McClelland Gay, and later arranged and popularized by liturgical composer Marty Haugen. The text reflects on the passage of time, human struggle, and the hope of Christ’s coming, making it especially fitting for Advent and Epiphany seasons. Its tune, Carol of Hope, carries a somber yet expectant tone that underscores themes of lament and renewal. Haugen’s arrangement, recorded on his Night of Silence album, helped bring the hymn into wider use across Catholic and Protestant congregations, where it continues to resonate as a prayerful meditation on faith, memory, and the promise of God’s love.

Even when we trip over our good intentions, O God, guide our days this Advent season. Give us confidence and hope in this time of waiting and empower us to carry your message of love to all the world. Amen.

Source: “Devotions for Advent and Christmas, 2025-26.” (Augsburg Fortress).

Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:

1. We’ve all been shaped by stories that get told again and again—family stories, community stories, even songs we grew up with. The Revised Common Lectionary works the same way, pulling us back into the story of Jesus week after week. How have you noticed this rhythm of repeated readings shaping your own faith?

2. Isaiah warned leaders not to put their trust in foreign powers or idols but to return to God’s justice. In our own time—when we lean so heavily on technology, political systems, or economic security—how might we recognize the ways we’ve misplaced our trust? What could that look like, day to day?


Reflections on Malawi

Pastor Jenny Hatleli

23 November 2025: Christ the King Sunday

John O’Donohue
(1956-2008)

“Think for a moment how, across the world, someone’s life just changed – irrevocably and permanently – and everything that once was so steady, so reliable, must now find a new way of unfolding.” (John O’Donohue)**

Celtic mystic John O’Donohue’s opening quote reminded me that liminal moments forever fascinate me — those times when we are “here” but will soon be “there” — in a different space. Richard Rohr, Franciscan priest, defines those moments as “any hiatus between stages of life, faith, jobs, loves, or relationships. It is that graced time when we are not certain or in control, when something genuinely new can happen … it is the ultimate teachable space.” As I look back on over four decades of teaching and coaching, it is clear to me that has always been the hook — the opportunity to work with young people in a liminal moment when hope and exciting possibility are “unfolding.” What a great privilege that is.

The Gospel for Christ the King Sunday brings us into the ultimate liminal moment. At Golgotha, Jesus enters the remarkable threshold—suspended between heaven and earth, life and death. Time slows as eternity draws near. Between two criminals, one mocks while the other sees clearly and pleads, “Jesus, remember me.” In that moment, Jesus responds with grace: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” The cross becomes a doorway, not just to death, but to redemption. Here, God meets us in our suffering, not from above but within it, offering not just forgiveness, but presence. This liminal moment reveals the heart of the gospel—mercy at the edge of death, hope rising in the shadow of despair. It makes perfect sense to me that the authors of the Lectionary would choose this moment for the final Sunday in our church year.

The Liturgical Calendar

Thanks for your visit here again this week! As mentioned, we mark the end of the Lectionary cycle (Year C) during these late days of November. Christ the King Sunday was established by Pope Pius XI in 1925 as a response to the chaos of post–World War I Europe, where secularism, fascism, and communism were on the rise; the Pope’s encyclical Quas Primas proclaimed Christ’s reign as a source of peace, justice, and unity beyond political power — a timeless affirmation. Originally observed in October, Pope Paul VI moved the feast to the final Sunday of the liturgical year in 1969 to highlight Christ’s cosmic sovereignty (in line with changes brought by the Second Vatican Council). In the 1980s and 1990s, many Protestant churches—including the ELCA after its 1988 formation—adopted Christ the King Sunday through the Revised Common Lectionary, which placed it just before Advent. This shift marked a move toward greater ecumenical unity and theological emphasis on Christ’s reign as the culmination of the church’s annual journey. My reflections this week will focus on the Colossians passage, with a musical offering inspired by the Gospel, and a contemporary prayer of confession written for Christ the King Sunday.

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Christ the King Sunday proclaim a vision of divine kingship rooted in justice, mercy, and cosmic reconciliation. Jeremiah foretells a righteous king who will gather and shepherd the scattered, embodying wisdom and justice. Psalm 46 declares God as a steadfast refuge amid chaos, while Colossians exalts Christ as the cosmic center—through whom all things were created and reconciled. In Luke’s Gospel, Christ reigns paradoxically from the cross, offering forgiveness and welcoming the repentant thief into paradise, revealing a kingdom founded not on domination but on sacrificial love.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 23.” Copilot, 13 November 2025, Copilot website.

Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.

11 May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, so that you may have all endurance and patience, joyfully 12 giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. 13 He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, 16 for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. 19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 20 and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

Saint Paul
Rembrandt (1606-1669)

Check out this overview of Colossians from the Bible Project!

Ancient Turkey

A fascinating window into the world of the first-generation Christians, Colossians was written by the Apostle Paul (or a disciple of his) in c. 60–62 CE during his imprisonment in Rome, addressing a young church in Colossae facing theological confusion and turmoil.

Traders and travelers shaped Colossae — a small city in Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey) — into a diverse hub, blending pagan beliefs, Jewish legalism, and emerging mystical philosophies. Though Paul had not personally visited the Colossae Christians, he was responding to reports from Epaphras, a local leader and companion of Paul’s, who warned of false teachings — later termed the Colossian Heresy — that threatened the community’s understanding of Christ. (Sidebar: Epaphras is mentioned three times in the New Testament: Colossians 1:7-8, 4: 12-13, and Philemon 1:23 and is an intriguing character in his own right).

Paul writing from Prison (A.I. generated)

This week’s reading from the first portion of the letter is a remarkable passage that stopped me in my tracks — and is entirely fitting for Christ the King Sunday. In verses 11-14 Paul urges the Colossians to draw strength from God’s glorious power so they can endure with patience and joy. He calls them to live in gratitude, knowing God has qualified them to share in the inheritance of the saints. God has rescued them from the grip of darkness and placed them firmly in the kingdom of his beloved Son. In Christ, they don’t just find comfort—they receive full redemption and the radical forgiveness of sins. This truth anchors their identity and equips them to stand firm against every false teaching (the Colossian heresy). Good words for us to hear this week.

And then we arrive at this extraordinary piece of prose from the pen of Paul — verses 15-20. As noted by New Testament scholar Jennifer S. Wyant in her 2022 commentary on this passage, “These verses contain some of the highest Christology in the whole New Testament.” Think of Christology as the study of Christ’s divine and human nature, along with an exploration of how he reveals God, fulfills the role of Savior, and reconciles creation through his life, death and resurrection. Biblical scholars, in fact, assert that these verses contain an early creedal statement voiced by first-generation Christians, and provide a window into the evolution into their understanding of Christ’s identity. Can we possibly improve on it?

Face of Christ
Claude Mellon, 1649

Finally, Wyant makes an important observation as to WHY these words from more than two thousand years ago instruct and inspire us in 2025 — that is, Paul’s near rhythmic use of the word ALL within the nine verses (I marked them in the passage above). This “creates a deep sense of confidence in who Christ is,” she says. “Nothing is outside of Christ. There is no situation that the Colossians might face that Christ is not already there . . . And so over and over again, we see Paul assure this congregation: Christ is in all. All has been forgiven. All will be well. Forever.” Sit with those words for a few minutes. What a beautiful close to our Lectionary readings for this church year — good words for us to carry into Advent! We have arrived at a liminal moment.

Soli Deo Gloria!

As noted above, I am indebted to Jennifer Wyant for her analysis of Colossians 1: 11-20. You may read that in full at here. Her commentary is among those found at the Working Preacher site sponsored by Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN.

“Jesus, Remember Me” emerged from the Taizé Community in France, an ecumenical monastic movement founded by Brother Roger to promote reconciliation and peace. Composed by Jacques Berthier in 1978, the chant reflects Taizé’s commitment to simple, meditative prayer that transcends language and denomination. Its text—drawn from the words of the penitent thief in Luke 23:42 — embodies the community’s focus on mercy, humility, and hope. Designed for repetition, the chant invites worshippers into a shared contemplative silence, often sung in candlelit gatherings. As with many Taizé songs, it fosters unity through music that is both accessible and spiritually profound.

The chant “Jesus, Remember Me” by Jacques Berthier is known for its simplicity and meditative repetition. The lyrics are:

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

This line is sung repeatedly, often in a Taizé-style prayer setting, allowing worshippers to enter a contemplative rhythm.

Jesus said,
“My realm is not of this world.”


And yet, we confess, sometimes we still get seduced by the values of empire:
wealth and power and glory.

Loving God, you see us as we are.
You know our secret battles and all the ways in which we fail to live out your call upon our lives.

Never give up on us, God.
Use us, even in our brokenness.
Forgive us and renew us.
Help us to enthrone you in our lives. Amen.

Source: Confession for Christ the King Sunday by Cara Heafy, an ordained Minister in the United Reformed Church, UK.

Jesus Statue in Świebodzin, Western Poland

Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK (and anything else you care to discuss from the readings):

1. How does Paul’s repeated use of the word “all” in Colossians 1:11–20 shape our understanding of Christ’s cosmic role and presence in everyday life?

2. Why is a high Christology—emphasizing Christ’s divinity, creative power, and reconciling work—essential for grounding Christian identity, especially in times of transition like Advent?

3. In what ways does the cultural and religious diversity of Colossae mirror the complexities of our own communities today—and how might Paul’s message guide us through theological confusion or competing worldviews?

One more thing . . . .

Check out this story from the Lutheran World Federation regarding the Lutheran Church in Myanmar.

Member Churches of the LWF

9 November 2025: Pentecost 22

Martin Luther (1483-1546)

“It appears to me as if the world itself were approaching its end and, as the Psalmist says, is waxing old. … So there is nothing to hope for, except the day of our great God.” (Martin Luther, 1544)

This week’s lectionary readings—especially Jesus’ bold affirmation that God is “not of the dead, but of the living,” and Paul’s steadying words to the Thessalonians—draw us into the deep waters of eschatology, that rich and unsettling branch of theology that ponders the ending days. Martin Luther, like many before and after him, felt the tremors of history and believed Christ’s return was near. In fact, in the late 1520s, as the Ottoman Empire pressed into Europe, he feared he might not even finish translating the Old Testament before the world unraveled! This foreboding seemed to stay with him for his remaining years, as noted in the opening quote. I remember my own brush with apocalyptic awareness: eighth grade, 1970, a classroom moment when I learned the U.S. had over 30,000 nuclear weapons—enough to erase the Soviet Union several times over, and they could do the same to us (I remember thinking, “why do we need to be able to destroy them many times?”). Today, the specter of Artificial Intelligence has taken up residence in our cultural imagination, whispering new versions of the old fear: that we may be the architects of our own undoing. As always, there is much to fear in our stormy times!

Many who are reading this were born and raised in the Lutheran tradition. The ELCA — our particular branch of this tradition — invites us to live with bold hope, trusting that Christ’s resurrection is not just a past event but the heartbeat of God’s future for the world. Instead of fear or speculation, we’re called to see the end as a horizon of justice, peace, and renewal—where God’s promises come alive. Scripture’s visions of the last things aren’t blueprints to decode but poetic truths that shape how we walk through uncertainty with courage. This eschatology doesn’t pull us away from the world—it sends us into it, grounded in grace and ready to embody the reign that’s already breaking in. It’s a lot to think about.

San Martin de Porres
(1579-1839)

Thanks for your visit to this space again this week! Your interest in using the Revised Common Lectionary as a means of exploring scripture inspires me. And notably, November has been deemed Global Bible Month by three leading Bible Apps, including YouVersion which many of us are using with our Bible 365 Challenge. We have three Sundays remaining in Year C (through 23 November) and this week, among others, we commemorate Martin de Porres, renewer of society, who died on 3 November 1639. His story is powerful. And, as I’m writing this, I’m reflecting on a tremendous worship experience that we shared on Sunday with the Ho-Chunk UCC, Little Norway, and Spirit Creek. It is truly humbling and empowering to use the language of faith as a means of healing centuries of brokenness with our Indigenous brothers and sisters! Thanks to all involved!

My reflections this week will focus on the 2 Thessalonians passage, continuing the theme of our view of the final days.

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Pentecost 22 share a deep longing for resurrection, justice, and divine presence amid suffering and uncertainty. Job declares hope in a living Redeemer, while the psalmist seeks refuge in God’s face and protection from harm. Paul urges steadfastness in the face of confusion about the end times, and Jesus affirms that God is the God of the living, not the dead. Together, these texts invite believers to trust in a future shaped by divine faithfulness, even when the present feels fractured or unclear.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 22.” Copilot, 1 November 2025, Copilot website.

Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.

Concerning the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our being gathered to him, we ask you, brothers and sisters, not to become easily unsettled or alarmed by the teaching allegedly from us—whether by a prophecy or by word of mouth or by letter—asserting that the day of the Lord has already come. Don’t let anyone deceive you in any way, for that day will not come until the rebellion occurs and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the man doomed to destruction. He will oppose and will exalt himself over everything that is called God or is worshiped, so that he sets himself up in God’s temple, proclaiming himself to be God. Don’t you remember that when I was with you I used to tell you these things?

13 But we ought always to thank God for you, brothers and sisters loved by the Lord, because God chose you as firstfruits to be saved through the sanctifying work of the Spirit and through belief in the truth. 14 He called you to this through our gospel, that you might share in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. 15 So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the teachings we passed on to you, whether by word of mouth or by letter. 16 May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, 17 encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word.

Paul’s Second Missionary Journey, 49 CE

Thessalonica was a thriving port city in Macedonia, strategically located along the Via Egnatia—the major Roman road linking east and west—which made it a hub of commerce, culture, and political influence. As a Roman provincial capital with a diverse population of Greeks, Romans, and Jews, it was an ideal place for Paul to plant a church during his second missionary journey (49-52 CE). He preached in the synagogue for three Sabbaths, and despite facing opposition, his message took root among both Jews and Gentiles. Forced to leave prematurely, Paul later wrote 1 and 2 Thessalonians while in Corinth (50-51 CE) to encourage the fledgling community, clarify teachings about Christ’s return, and strengthen their faith amid persecution. (Sidebar: Paul’s authorship of 2 Thessalonians is disputed and it could have been written by one of his co-workers, Timothy or Silvanus). The city’s vibrancy and volatility made it a powerful setting for Paul’s eschatological reflections and pastoral care.

As pointed out in the Lutheran Study Bible, a good framework for understanding the correspondence between Paul and the Thessalonian believers is to realize that in his absence, three questions seemed to be swirling and remain relevant in 2025: “Can we trust this guy? If God is truly Lord of all, why are we who worship this God still suffering? Why is Christ’s return taking so long, and what will happen to those who die before he comes?” (LSB, page 1842). That third question seems to be at the center of 2 Thessalonians.

Via Egnatia (Roman Road utilized by Paul)

In 2 Thessalonians 2:1–5, Paul urges believers not to be shaken or alarmed by claims that the Day of the Lord has already come. He explains that certain events—like the rebellion and the revealing of the “man of lawlessness”—must happen first and reminds them that he had already taught them this. Then, in verses 13–17, Paul shifts to encouragement, thanking God for choosing them for salvation through the Spirit and truth. He calls them to stand firm, hold fast to his teachings, and be strengthened in every good word and deed, offering comfort and hope in the face of confusion and fear.

What should we take away from this portion of the letter? First, it is clear that we should not be shaken by false claims about the timing of Christ’s return. The author suggests that certain events (a rebellion, a revelation of a “man of lawlessness,” both rather vague and applicable to many situations!) must precede the Day of the Lord. People have twisted themselves into knots over these kinds of predictions throughout history, and we can get caught up in that as well. Second, the author reminds the community that they are chosen by God and called through the gospel to share in Christ’s glory, affirming their identity and purpose. As spiritual descendants, this is WHO we are and WHY we are! Rather than spending our time fretting over the end times, a healthier approach to life is to do what we can right here and right now — a practical approach to justice. Action is a great counter to anxiety about the future. Finally, there are great words of encouragement for believers in the final verses — one of many pep talks we find in Paul’s letters — check out Romans 8:18, 2 Corinthians 4:17, 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18, and Galatians 6:9 if you need a lift today!

Soli Deo Gloria!

While preparing this week’s blog, I stumbled on a commentary on the passage from 2 Thessalonians by Nijay Gupta. In it, he referenced R.E.M.’s It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine), a 1987 offering that feels like a snapshot of late-1980s chaos—fast, fragmented, and overloaded with pop culture. Hearing the song took me back to that period and my students from those days. The lyrics come at you fast and the ironic “I feel fine” tag line offers a sense of “shrug” in the face of a world that seems to be coming apart. I post it here as an example of the post-modern angst that many seem to feel in our own time — and is played out in so many ways.

R.E.M. emerged from Athens, Georgia in the early 1980s and quickly became one of the defining bands of alternative rock. Known for their jangly guitar sound, cryptic lyrics, and Michael Stipe’s distinctive voice, they blended post-punk energy with Southern introspection. Their early albums like Murmur and Reckoning built a cult following, while later releases such as Out of Time and Automatic for the People brought mainstream success with hits like “Losing My Religion.” R.E.M.’s music often wrestled with themes of identity, politics, and existential angst, making them both a voice of their generation and a bridge between underground authenticity and global influence.

(Information garnered from Co-Pilot, 1 November 2025)

Thomas Merton’s Prayer of Trust is included in his 1956 book, Thoughts In Solitude, and is a heartfelt confession that he doesn’t know where he’s going, but he’s trying to follow God anyway. It’s honest, raw, and speaks to that deep uncertainty so many of us feel in a world that often seems disconnected and chaotic. In the postmodern era, where truth feels slippery and meaning gets drowned out by noise, Merton’s words remind us that even the desire to please God is enough. His prayer offers a kind of spiritual anchor—a quiet trust that cuts through the confusion and says, “You’re not alone in this.” I offer it as a counter to the sentiments expressed in the R.E.M. song.

Thomas Merton
(1915-1968)

Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME! And, let’s discuss the Gospel reading for Sunday (Luke 20: 27-38) alongside the Second Reading from 2 Thessalonians — why are they offered together in the RCL readings for Sunday?

And, one more thing: this offering from Pew Research regarding our religious landscape is worth your time. I found this analysis of young people and religious beliefs especially interesting.

2 November 2025: All Saints Sunday

“Thus a Christian man is righteous and a sinner at the same time, holy and profane, an enemy of God and a child of God.” (Martin Luther)

All Saints Day may have had roots in a pre-Christian Celtic festival honoring the dead, held in early November as autumn fades into winter. For the ancient Celts, a liminal time was a sacred threshold—when the veil between worlds grew thin and the ordinary gave way to the mysterious. These moments, like the shift from harvest to winter, were seen as openings for spiritual encounter, transformation, and ancestral connection. Early Christians honored unnamed martyrs whose faithful witness shaped the Church and by the 4th century, regional communities set aside days to remember the departed. In the 9th century, Pope Gregory IV designated November 1 as All Saints Day in the Western Church. Over time, the celebration grew to include all believers whose lives reflected God’s grace. Lutheran and Anglican traditions preserved the observance, emphasizing the **communion of saints as a living fellowship that spans generations. When we confess this in the Apostles’ Creed, we affirm a spiritual bond rooted not in perfection but in grace—a truth Martin Luther captured in his 1535 Commentary on Galatians with the phrase simul justus et peccator: simultaneously justified and sinner.

Luther honored saints as examples of faith but rejected the Catholic practice of invoking them for intercession. He insisted that Christ alone mediates between God and humanity, and warned that praying to saints or venerating relics distracted from the gospel. For Luther, saints belonged to the body of Christ—not as intermediaries, but as fellow witnesses whose lives point us back to God’s mercy. His theology redirected Christian devotion toward Scripture and the sufficiency of Christ, shaping worship and doctrine for generations. All Saints Sunday, in this light, becomes not a celebration of spiritual elites, but a remembrance of grace at work in ordinary lives.

Virgin and Child with Saints Simon and Jude (Barocci, c. 1567)

Thanks for your visit to this space again this week! It’s hard to imagine that beyond All Saints Sunday we have three Sundays remaining in the church year! Time flies. This week we do commemorate the Apostles Simon and Jude (28 October) and Reformation Day on Friday, as you know. Pastor Jen and Patti Whitworth will be traveling back from Malawi in the early part of the week, and we pray for a safe journey. Also, a reminder that on All Saints Sunday, ELC will have a joint worship experience with our neighbors from the United Church of Christ at the Ho-Chunk Nation District 1 Community Center at the Mission at 2:00. This builds on our collaboration started four years ago. All are welcome!

My reflections this week will focus on the passage from the Sermon on the Plain and its connection to our understanding of sainthood. I’m also sharing a song and prayer that seem especially fitting for All Saints Sunday.

** The “communion of saints” is part of the Third Article of the Apostles Creed. For a good explanation of the history of the Creed and also Luther’s commentary on it, go to this link.

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for All Saints Sunday highlight God’s promise to the faithful, who receive and inherit the kingdom. Daniel envisions holy ones triumphing over chaos, while Psalm 149 celebrates God’s delight in the humble and victorious. Ephesians reminds believers they are marked by the Spirit and destined for a glorious inheritance. Luke’s Beatitudes flip worldly values, blessing the poor and warning the comfortable, showing how saints live by grace, not status. Together, these texts call us to live with hope, humility, and courage as part of God’s unfolding story.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for All Saints Sunday.” Copilot, 24 October 2025, Copilot website.

Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.

20 Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
“Blessed are you who are poor,
    for yours is the kingdom of God.
21 “Blessed are you who are hungry now,
    for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
22 “Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you[a] on account of the Son of Man. 23 Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven, for that is how their ancestors treated the prophets.
24 “But woe to you who are rich,
    for you have received your consolation.
25 “Woe to you who are full now,
    for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
    for you will mourn and weep.
26 “Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.
27 “But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; 28 bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. 30 Give to everyone who asks of you, and if anyone takes away what is yours, do not ask for it back again. 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Jesus Teaching in Galilee
(A.I. Generated, 2023)
Protestant Theologian Karl Paul Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)

Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971) was a towering figure in 20th-century American theology, ethics, and public thought—a Protestant theologian rooted in the Evangelical and Reformed tradition, yet unafraid to wrestle with the messiness of modern life. He’s best known for developing Christian Realism, a framework that confronts the persistent tension between moral ideals and political necessity, between the call to justice and the reality of sin. I first encountered Niebuhr’s writings in a religion class as a college student in the 1970s — a time when questions of war, civil rights, and institutional power pressed hard on my conscience. His voice—clear-eyed, unsentimental, and deeply faithful—helped me navigate the uneasy terrain where religion and politics meet. He taught me that faith is not an escape from complexity but a lens through which to engage it with humility and courage. As I reflect on this week’s Gospel reading, Niebuhr’s realism echoes: the saints we honor are not plaster-perfect, but those who dared to love in a broken world, trusting that grace can do what idealism alone cannot. Niebuhr once quipped that he didn’t much care for saints—at least not the kind who seemed too perfect, too pious, too removed from the grit of real life. Yet even Niebuhr, with his sharp theological realism, recognized the quiet heroism of those who live faithfully in the tension between ideal and reality (“the impossible possibility,” in his words).

The Sermon on the Plain in Luke 6 marks a defining moment early in Jesus’ ministry, delivered just after he calls the twelve apostles. Unlike Matthew’s mountaintop sermon, Luke places Jesus on “a level place,” symbolizing his solidarity with the crowd—poor, sick, and marginalized. This sermon lays out the ethical heart of the kingdom: blessings for the suffering, woes for the comfortable, and a radical call to love enemies and live mercifully. It’s a manifesto for discipleship in the real world. On All Saints Sunday, this passage reminds us that sainthood is not about moral perfection or spiritual polish. It’s about showing up in the mess, loving enemies, giving generously, and trusting that mercy matters more than merit. Saints are those who, by grace, live into the golden rule with courage and compassion. As we remember the great cloud of witnesses, we’re invited not to admire from afar, but to join them—ordinary people responding to an extraordinary call. Niebuhr put it this way: “The cross symbolizes a cosmic as well as historic truth. Love conquers the world, but its victory is not an easy one.”

Soli Deo Gloria!

Jake Runestad’s Let My Love Be Heard is a poignant choral setting of Alfred Noyes’ brief poem “A Prayer,” composed in 2014 for Choral Arts Northwest. The piece gained emotional resonance in 2015 when students at Cal State Long Beach performed it in memory of Nohemi Gonzalez, a classmate killed in the Paris terrorist attacks. The performance, shared widely online, transformed the work into a communal expression of grief and hope. Musically, the piece builds from a quiet invocation to a soaring climax, with layered harmonies that evoke angels carrying love and longing heavenward. The repeated plea—“Let my love be heard”—offers a sacred echo of remembrance, making it especially fitting for All Saints Sunday, when we honor those whose love still whispers in our lives.

‘A Prayer’ by Alfred Noyes

Angels, where you soar
Up to God’s own light,
Take my own lost bird
On your hearts tonight;
And as grief once more
Mounts to heaven and sings,
Let my love be heard
Whispering in your wings.

The Grammy-nominated British vocal ensemble VOCES8 is proud to inspire people through music and share the joy of singing. Touring globally, the group performs an extensive repertoire both in its a cappella concerts and in collaborations with leading orchestras, conductors and soloists. Versatility and a celebration of diverse musical expression are central to the ensemble’s performance and education ethos which is shared both online and in person.

**Information from the Voces8 Website

“God of the generations,
when we set our hands to labor,
thinking we work alone,
remind us that we carry
on our lips
the words of prophets,
in our veins
the blood of martyrs,
in our eyes
the mystics’ visions,
in our hands
the strength of thousands.” Amen.

The Forerunners of Christ With Saints and Martyrs by Fra Angelico (circa 1395–1455)

Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME! And, let’s discuss these questions when we gather (or any other questions you would like to raise for the group!):

1. Niebuhr spoke of the “impossible possibility” of living faithfully in a broken world. How does this idea challenge or affirm your understanding of sainthood, especially in light of Luke 6:20–31?

2. Luke’s Beatitudes offer a reversal of worldly values. How might this challenge our assumptions about success, holiness, and who we honor in our communities?

THIS WEEK’S BIBLE 365
READING CHALLENGE:

Monday 27 October: Exodus 35-40, Psalm 29
Tuesday 28 October: Leviticus 1-4, Psalm 30
Wednesday 29 October: Leviticus 5-7, Psalm 31
Thursday 30 October: Leviticus 8-10, Psalm 32
Friday 31 October: Leviticus 11-13, Psalm 33
Saturday 1 October: Leviticus 14-15, Psalm 34
Sunday 2 October: Leviticus 16-18, Psalm 35

Here is a LINK to the full Bible 365 Plan!

The Bible 365 Challenge!

More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.

26 October 2025: Reformation Sunday

“This message is not a novel invention of ours but the very ancient, approved teaching of the apostles brought to light again. Neither have we invented a new Baptism, Sacrament of the Altar, Lord’s Prayer, and Creed; nor do we desire to know or to have anything new in Christendom. We only contend for, and hold to, the ancient: that which Christ and the apostles have left behind them and have given to us.” (Luther, Exposition on John, 1537)

“Holy Hill” in Black River Falls, Wisconsin

At the top of Main Street in Black River Falls — locals call it “Holy Hill” — three churches stand like sentinels: St. Joseph Catholic to the south, Evangelical Lutheran in the center, and United Methodist to the north. This quiet stretch holds echoes of five centuries of history. And Luther is a connecting rod in many respects. His bold actions in 1517 lit a fire. And, interestingly, it was Luther’s writing on Romans—his preface to Paul’s letter—that later stirred John Wesley’s heart in 1738, sparking the Methodist movement. On this hill, three traditions meet, each rooted in a story of reform, renewal, and the search for grace.

Katie Luther
(1499-1552)
Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Thuringia, Germany

Reformation Sunday brings to mind both the power of tradition and the need for renewal. It was on 31 October 1517, 508 years ago, that a 33-year-old Augustinian monk, sent a list of 95 propositions to Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz challenging the Catholic Church’s practice of selling indulgences and calling for theological debate on repentance and grace (sidebar: there is no direct evidence that Luther personally nailed the 95 theses to the church door in Wittenberg, although it very well could have happened). His actions and what followed set in motion the Protestant Reformation. By 1519, followers of Luther were negatively labeled as “Lutherans” (picture opponents sneering) by those opposed to what Luther was doing — a name that eventually stuck. Luther preferred the term “Evangelical” to describe the movement. A few more details for background: Luther’s act of conscience challenging church doctrine led to his eventual excommunication by Pope Leo X (1513-1521) after his refusal to recant his positions at a meeting known as the Diet of Worms four years after his initial actions. Further, he was declared a heretic and outlaw by Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, meaning anyone could legally capture or kill him without consequence. Protected by Elector Frederick of Saxony, Luther was spirited away to Wartburg Castle where he began translating the New Testament into German. In 1525, Luther married Katharina von Bora (1499-1552), a Cistercian nun who fled the convent. Talk about a rebellious power couple!

Augustine Meditating on the Trinity” by Guercino (1663)

How should we view all of this from our 21st Century vantage point? It’s important to realize that Luther did not set out to break with Roman Catholicism. In fact, one can argue that he saw his actions as returning the Church to its ancient roots, as noted in the introductory quote. After all, Luther was steeped in the writings of Augustine (354-430), especially on sin, grace, predestination, and faith. He cited Augustine more than any other non-biblical source and even annotated Augustine’s texts by hand. Most notably, Luther fiercely rejected Pelagianism, believing that human will was bound by sin and incapable of choosing God without divine grace. His stance was shaped by his Augustinian training, which emphasized the total dependence of the soul on God’s mercy. Luther taught that salvation comes not through effort or merit, but through faith alone—a gift initiated by God, not earned by humans. In this view, Pelagianism was not just error but spiritual pride, denying the depth of human need and the power of grace. As Lutherans, we can summarize Luther’s theology with the following phrases: Sola Fide (faith alone), Sola Scriptura (scripture alone), Sola Gratia (grace alone), Solus Christus (Christ alone), and Soli Deo Gloria (To God alone be the glory). To use a football analogy — ala Vince Lombardi — this is the “power sweep” of Lutheranism.

Thanks for visiting this space again this week! We have four Sundays remaining in the church year and next Sunday — All Saints Sunday — is another important milestone. Also, on 26 October, the ELCA commemorates Philipp Nicolai, Johann Heermann, and Paul Gerhardt—three towering figures in Lutheran hymnody whose work gave voice to faith amid suffering. Nicolai, writing during a devastating plague, offered hope through majestic chorales like “Wake, Awake” and “O Morning Star.” Heermann, shaped by personal illness and the ravages of the Thirty Years’ War, penned hymns of tender devotion and theological depth. Gerhardt, enduring profound personal loss and political exile, composed over 130 hymns that blend confessional clarity with heartfelt piety, securing his place as one of Lutheranism’s greatest poets. (Research drawn from Co-Pilot, 19 October 2025).

My reflections this week will focus on the Reformation texts within the theme of tradition and renewal. And, in keeping with the Luther focus, I’m offering one of his hymns and his morning prayer for your interest. In addition, I will be offering a homily on Sunday at ELC related to the Reformation.

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Reformation Sunday center on God’s liberating promise of renewal, righteousness, and truth. Jeremiah proclaims a new covenant written on the heart, where intimate knowledge of God replaces external law. Psalm 46 celebrates God as a refuge and strength amid chaos, echoing the reformers’ trust in divine sovereignty. Romans and John together affirm that true freedom and justification come not through human effort but by grace through faith in Christ, who makes us free indeed.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Reformation Sunday.” Copilot, 17 October 2025, Copilot website.

Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.

Jeremiah 31: 31-34

31 The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 32 It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt—a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord. 33 But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 34 No longer shall they teach one another or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.

John 8: 31-36

31 Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, 32 and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” 33 They answered him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?” 34 Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. 35 The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. 36 So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

Among the many bold things that marked Martin Luther’s journey, his work in translating the Bible into German made scripture accessible to ordinary people. He began with the New Testament in 1522, completing the full Bible by 1534, using a vivid, earthy style that reflected the spoken language of his time. Luther’s translation drew on Hebrew and Greek sources, emphasizing clarity and theological precision (sidebar: he actually worked with a team, nicknamed the “Sanhedrin” including Philipp Melanchthon, a scholar of Greek and Matthäus Aurogallus, an expert in Hebrew, among others — I cannot imagine how difficult that work was!). By empowering laypeople to read the Bible themselves, Luther’s translation became a cornerstone of Protestant thought and literacy — he would greatly appreciate our “Bible 365” Project! In the Lutheran Study Bible, now in a second edition, there is an excellent section documenting Luther’s approach to the Bible. Notably, he believed that certain parts of the Bible were “more important and/or clear than others,” and suggested that we devote ourselves “especially to John’s Gospel, Paul’s epistles (especially Romans), and 1 Peter.” We also know he held the Psalms in high esteem, calling them “the little Bible.” He read from the Psalms daily and completed the Psalter every two weeks (Psalm 118 was his favorite). And, one last point regarding his view of the Bible (again, from the Lutheran Study Bible): Luther believed the Bible has “a universal and immediate sense, granted by the Holy Spirit and recognized by the eyes of faith that rises above historical conditions and events. Luther heard biblical texts as speaking both to the time in which they were written and to his own time.” Let that observation sink in.

After reading the Reformation texts, here are a few reflections. We’re not the first to face fear, division, or the need for deep renewal—and we won’t be the last. The Israelites in exile, the early Christians under Roman rule, and Martin Luther during the upheaval of the 16th century all struggled with uncertainty and felt the call to return to God’s Word. On Reformation Sunday, we hear Jeremiah’s promise of a new covenant written on the heart—spoken centuries before Christ—and we see it echoed in Paul’s message in Romans: we are justified by faith, not by works. Jesus adds in John’s Gospel that abiding in His Word brings true freedom.

Jesus’ words in John invite us to go deeper—not just to hear the truth, but to live it. Peter Claver Ajer, New Testament professor at Bexley Seabury Seminary in Chicago, offered this powerful insight on John 8:31–32 and Jesus’ teaching on discipleship: “First, it begins with belief. Second, it requires constant remaining in the word of Jesus—listening to the words of Jesus, learning from Jesus, constantly penetrating the truth that the words of Jesus bear, and obeying the words of Jesus. Third, discipleship ushers in knowledge of the truth. To learn from Jesus is to learn the truth. What is that truth? The fundamental truth that Jesus brings shows us the actual values of life and makes each one ask: To what should I give my life? Fourth, discipleship results in freedom: freedom from fear because we are not walking alone, freedom from self because our own self is often the most significant handicap, and freedom from other people since we often fear what other people will say.”

These ancient voices speak with fresh relevance today. The Church faces shrinking membership, cultural division, and a flood of misinformation that distorts truth and erodes trust. Many feel uncertain—about the future of the world, the Church, and their own place in it. But Scripture reminds us that renewal isn’t about creating something new; it’s about returning to what’s true. As we move through 2025 and beyond, we’re called to walk in grace, stay rooted in the living Word, and trust that God still writes hope into human hearts.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Note: My reflections drew heavily on a commentary on John 8 by Professor Peter Ajer, accessed in Working Preacher, part of Luther Seminary’s many resources. In addition, I utilized information from the Lutheran Study Bible (First Edition), pages 1521-1524).

Martin Luther wrote roughly 35 hymns, using music as a powerful tool for teaching theology and nurturing faith. Many of his compositions became central to Lutheran worship. “A Mighty Fortress is our God” is perhaps his most famous (and is based on Psalm 46). He believed deeply in music’s spiritual power, famously stating, “Next to the Word of God, music deserves the highest praise.

Here is some background on another of his well-known hymns: Luther wrote “Lord, Keep Us Steadfast in Your Word” in 1541 during a time of political and spiritual danger, especially from the Pope and the advancing Ottoman Turks. Originally intended for children’s choirs, the hymn was a plea for divine protection and faithfulness to the Gospel. Its three stanzas address each person of the Trinity, asking for strength, peace, and unity. Though later softened in translation, the hymn reflects Luther’s deep conviction that God’s Word must be defended against all threats. This version of the hymn is by Chant Claire, a notable choir from the Milwaukee area. Luther’s hymns always have a “medieval” feel to me, heavy and majestic. You will note some variation in the lyrics here.

Martin and Katie Luther Engaged in Bible Study
(A.I. generated image)

The 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.

In the morning when you get up, make the sign of the holy cross and say:

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Then, kneeling or standing, repeat the Creed and the Lord’s Prayer. If you choose, you may also say this little prayer:

I thank You, my heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son, that You have kept me this night from all harm and danger; and I pray that You would keep me this day also from sin and every evil, that all my doings and life may please You. For into Your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me. Amen.

Then go joyfully to your work, singing a hymn, like that of the Ten Commandments, or whatever your devotion may suggest.

Martin Luther’s Small Catechism, published in 1529, includes a series of simple, heartfelt prayers designed to guide daily Christian life. Among them are morning and evening prayers, as well as blessings before and after meals, each emphasizing gratitude, trust in God’s protection, and humble dependence on divine mercy. These prayers reflect Luther’s pastoral concern for households, encouraging parents to teach their children not only doctrine but also devotional practice. Rooted in Scripture and accessible language, they remain enduring tools for spiritual formation across generations.

Luther’s Seal

Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME! And, let’s discuss these questions when we gather (or any other questions you would like to raise for the group!):

1. Luther believed some parts of Scripture speak more clearly than others—why do you think he was partial to John’s Gospel, Romans, and 1 Peter?

2. Peter Claver Ajer describes discipleship as a journey from belief to freedom—how do you personally experience “remaining in the Word” in your daily life, and what kind of freedom has it brought or could bring?

3. Luther heard the Bible as speaking both to its original context and to his own time—how do you hear Scripture speaking into our current cultural and spiritual challenges in 2025?

THIS WEEK’S BIBLE 365
READING CHALLENGE:

Monday 20 October: Exodus 16-18, Psalm 22
Tuesday 21 October: Exodus 19-21, Psalm 23
Wednesday 22 October: Exodus 22-24, Psalm 24
Thursday 23 October: Exodus 25-27, Psalm 25
Friday 24 October: Exodus 28-29, Psalm 26
Saturday 25 October: Exodus 30-31, Psalm 27
Sunday 26 October: Exodus 32-34, Psalm 28

Here is a LINK to the full Bible 365 Plan!

The Bible 365 Challenge!

More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.

12 October 2025: Pentecost 18

Introduction to Readers

Jonathan Sacks (1948-2020)

“Optimism is a passive virtue, hope an active one. It needs no courage to be an optimist, but it takes a great deal of courage to hope. The Hebrew Bible is not an optimistic book. It is, however, one of the great literatures of hope.” (Rabbi Jonathan Sacks)

Lately, I find myself praying for clarity on how to bring a faithful presence into our fractured world. I’ve also been thinking about children and the world they’re experiencing. In the October issue of The Christian Century, Presbyterian minister Maryann McKibben Dana shares a striking moment from a conversation with a friend. The friend pointed out that those who rage at every headline often do so from the comfort of safety—far removed from the daily grind of people fighting just to get by. While some shout from the sidelines, others carry the weight of survival in silence. Dana’s reflection flips the lens, reminding us that outrage can be a privilege not everyone can afford. As Christians, we are called to purveyors of hope in our world, not glittering optimists who dance in superficiality, and as Rabbi Jonathan Sacks suggests, God’s word grounds us in that hope. Keep that in mind as you work through this week’s readings. And let’s stay excited that many in our midst have taken on the challenge of reading the Bible through in one year!

Henry Muhlenberg

We have reached Pentecost 18 and soon will mark the 508th anniversary of the Reformation (26 October). We have two commemorations on our calendar this week: William Tyndale (died on 6 October 1536) was a groundbreaking English scholar, linguist, and Protestant reformer best known for translating the Bible into English directly from Hebrew and Greek texts—a radical act that challenged both ecclesiastical authority and political power; and Henry Melchior Muhlenberg who died on 7 October 1787. Born in Einbeck, Germany (1711) and deeply influenced by Pietism, he was ordained in 1739 and emigrated to Pennsylvania in 1742, serving scattered German-speaking Lutheran communities in the pre-Revolutionary period. Among other things, he kept detailed journals that remain invaluable for understanding early American Lutheranism and religious life in the colonies. One other notable fact is that Muhlenberg’s son Peter became a soldier of renown during the Revolutionary War.

Thanks for visiting this venue again this week and for your continued interest in the Lectionary. My reflections will focus on the readings from Jeremiah and Luke. I’m also including a prayer dedicated to the refugees in our midst and musical selection that focuses on the children in our world (generally), and especially those who have been displaced.

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Pentecost 18 center on themes of healing, gratitude, and faithful witness in the midst of exile and uncertainty. Naaman’s cleansing in 2 Kings and the Samaritan leper’s thanksgiving in Luke highlight the transformative power of divine mercy and the importance of responding with praise. Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles urges rootedness and hope, even in foreign lands, while 2 Timothy calls for endurance and integrity in proclaiming the gospel. Psalm 111 ties these threads together with a celebration of God’s wondrous deeds and enduring covenant, inviting the community to remember and trust.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 18.” Copilot, 4 October 2025, Copilot website.

LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)

Martin and Katie Luther Engaged in Bible Study
(A.I. Generated, 2025)
The Yoke of Jeremiah

Gospel: Luke 17: 11-19
11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten men with a skin disease approached him. Keeping their distance, 13 they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” 14 When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 He prostrated himself at Jesus’s feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? So where are the other nine? 18 Did none of them return to give glory to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

The Healing of the Ten Lepers
James Tissot (1836–1902)

Reflection: Strangers in our Midst

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

This week’s readings from Jeremiah and Luke offer profound insights into the presence—and the power—of the foreigner in our midst. In Jeremiah 29:1, 4–7, the prophet pens a letter to the exiles in Babylon—a displaced people, torn from Jerusalem and thrust into foreign soil. His message is startling in its realism: “Build houses and live in them… seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile.” Rather than resist or retreat, the exiles are called to engage, to bless, and to pray for the flourishing of the very place that holds them captive. This summons is both unsettling and deeply hopeful. Historically, this letter was written after the first wave of deportations in 597 BCE, when King Jehoiachin and the Judean elite were taken to Babylon. Archaeological records confirm that these exiles were not merely prisoners—they were artisans, officials, and laborers integrated into Babylonian society. Jeremiah’s call was radical: live faithfully among foreigners and recognize that God’s presence is not confined to Jerusalem. The stranger becomes neighbor, and exile becomes a crucible for spiritual renewal. It’s a vision that redefines exile—not as punishment, but as possibility.

More than six centuries later, in Luke 17:11–19, Jesus encounters ten lepers on the borderlands between Galilee and Samaria. These men are doubly marginalized—by disease and geography. Yet it is the Samaritan, the foreigner among them, who returns to give thanks. Jesus’ response is telling: “Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” The outsider becomes exemplar, the one who sees clearly and responds with gratitude. This encounter unfolds in a region scarred by ethnic division and religious mistrust. Samaritans were viewed with suspicion by many Jews, their worship practices deemed impure. Yet here, the Samaritan’s faith transcends boundaries. All ten are healed, but only one is made whole—his gratitude becomes the gateway to deeper restoration. Once again, Jesus throws us a curveball.

Refugees (1939) by Guglielmi (1906-1956)

Together, these passages challenge us to reconsider our posture toward the foreigner. Jeremiah urges rootedness and blessing in unfamiliar places. Luke reveals that grace often flows through those we least expect. In both, God’s movement is not confined to the familiar or the favored—it pulses through exile, borderlands, and gratitude. As so often in Scripture, these ancient voices speak directly into our present moment. As migration and displacement continue to rock the global political environment, and cultural tension shapes our communities, these texts beckon us toward prophetic realism and gospel hospitality. The foreigner is not merely among us—they are often the vessel of divine insight. To dwell faithfully is to seek the welfare of the stranger, and to recognize that healing and thanksgiving may come from unexpected voices. Hope is all around us if we choose to see it.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Prayer Reflection: Prayer for Refugees and Migrants

Lutherans have a strong tradition in the world of immigration. Formed in 1939, Global Refuge (formerly Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services), has been active in the world for 86 years. The following prayer is an interpretation of a prayer suggested within their resources and also inspired by Psalm 146. We know that children, in particular, are caught within the various forces of displacement in our world — political conflicts, civil wars, and famine just to name a few.

God of mercy, who watches over the stranger and lifts up the brokenhearted, guide us to walk with refugee families seeking peace and home. Bless the mothers, fathers, and children who flee danger. Heal their wounds, restore their hope, and let your love be their shelter. You uphold the cause of the oppressed and give food to the hungry. Make us instruments of your justice—welcoming, compassionate, and brave. Open our hearts to see your image in every migrant and asylum seeker. Lead us to serve with light and love. End the violence that drives them. Stir the hearts of nations to build a world where no child must flee again. The Lord reigns forever. In your mercy, hear our prayer. Amen.

Bless the mothers, fathers, and children who flee danger. Heal their wounds, restore their hope, and let your love be their shelter.

Having spent my adult life with young people, I find so much of our modern environment harmful to children — perhaps, like many of you, legacy is on my mind. What kind of world are we leaving to our children? One of the heartbreaking realities of our world today, as has been true throughout history, is the suffering of children. There are so many contemporary examples. As of the end of 2024, for example, nearly 49 million children were forcibly displaced worldwide due to conflict, violence, and disasters (40% of all refugees). Additionally, having reached my elder years, I grieve for the example our young people see around them growing up. Surely, we can do better. The powerful message of Bestor’s song resonates.

**My statistics are drawn from the Stop Child Labor website.

Refugee Children

Prayer of the Children

Can you hear the prayer of the children
On bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room?
Empty eyes, with no more tears to cry
Turning heavenward, toward the light

Crying, “Jesus, help me
To see the morning light of one more day;
But if I should die before I wake
I pray my soul to take.”

Can you feel the heart of the children
Aching for home, for something of their very own?
Reaching hands, with nothing to hold on to
But hope for a better day, a better day

Crying, “Jesus, help me
To feel the love again in my own land;
But if unknown roads lead away from home
Give me loving arms, away from harm.”

Can you hear the voice of the children
Softly pleading for silence in a shattered world?
Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate
Blood of the innocent on their hands

Crying, “Jesus, help me
To feel the sun again upon my face;
For when darkness clears I know you’re near
Bringing peace again.”

“Prayer of the Children” by Kurt Bestor is a deeply moving song written in response to the suffering of children during the Yugoslav Wars. Its lyrics express a child’s longing for peace, safety, and connection with God amidst violence and loss. One of its most poignant lines is: “Can you hear the prayer of the children… aching for home, for something of their very own.”


Chorale NouvEAU performs Prayer of the Children composed by Kurt Bestor and arranged by Andrea S. Klouse, under the direction of Kate Larson. This performance was from our concert, A Cry for Peace on January 19th, 2025, at Christ Church Cathedral. This concert was in partnership with Sleep in Heavenly Peace. Sleep in Heavenly Peace (SHP) is a volunteer-driven nonprofit dedicated to building and delivering hand-made, fully furnished beds to children in need. ELC has partnered with SHP on several occasions.

(Information provided with the YouTube posting)

The Chorale NouvEAU draws its members from the Chippewa Valley region of Wisconsin.

Faithful Conversations Updates

5 October 2025: Pentecost 17

Introduction to Readers

“There are times in life when we have to buckle up and buckle down, lifting one another up with encouragement. Without such commitment, we live with the prospect or fear that our lives will not have mattered. We may not always know if our actions are contributing to an increase of the abundant life in this world. But, as Mahatma Gandhi once put it, ‘if you do nothing, there will be no result.'” (Peter W. Marty)

A conversation in our lectionary study group on Sunday, paired with this week’s readings from Habakkuk and Luke’s Gospel, brought Peter Marty’s words from the September Christian Century to the forefront. His Gandhi reference — “If you do nothing, there will be no result” — landed with force. Faith doesn’t shield us from the weight of the world; it often makes that weight more visible, more personal. We feel the burden, the fatigue, and sometimes the quiet fear that our lives might not matter. Habakkuk saw violence and chaos and cried out, asking where God had gone. His voice feels close, even now. The apostles, unsure and overwhelmed, didn’t ask for a strategy—they asked for a shortcut: “Increase our faith!” That plea still resonates. In 2025, ancient voices speak with startling relevance. They urge us to stay present, to lift one another up, and to keep moving—even when the way forward is unclear. I’ll return to their wisdom in my reflections. For now, I’m listening.

Welcome to this space again this week and your continued interest in exploring the Lectionary! Counting Sunday, we have eight Sundays left in the church year (Year C). Hard to imagine. We have several commemorations in our calendar this week: Michael and All Angels, Jerome, translator and teacher (d. 30 September 420), Francis of Assisi, renewer of the church (d. 4 October 1226), and Theodore Fliedner, renewer of society (d. 4 October 1864). Fliedner (b. 1800) was a German Lutheran pastor and social reformer who founded the Kaiserswerther Diakonie in 1836, a pioneering institution for hospital care and deaconess training. Inspired by the Moravian Church and reformers like Elizabeth Fry, he revived the ancient Christian office of deaconess to serve the sick, poor, and imprisoned. His work laid the foundation for modern nursing and influenced figures like Florence Nightingale, who trained at Kaiserswerth in 1850. By the time of his death, Fliedner had established a global network of deaconess motherhouses, transforming Christian social service across continents. Deaconess Hospital in Minneapolis was part of the larger movement inspired by Theodor Fliedner’s work in Germany. Although Fliedner didn’t start the hospital himself, his revival of the deaconess tradition in 1836 influenced similar efforts around the world. In 1888, Rev. Falk Gjertsen and others invited Sister Elizabeth Fedde—trained in a tradition shaped by Fliedner—to help begin a deaconess home and hospital in Minneapolis. Her work led to the founding of the Norwegian Lutheran Deaconess Institute, which became Deaconess Hospital, built on Fliedner’s original vision. My great-aunt Josie Rykken worked at Deaconess Hospital as a seamstress for many years and my oldest sister Anne was born there while Unk (our dad) was a student at Luther Seminary (1950). All these years later, I am appreciating that history.

Common Themes Among the Readings

Readings for Pentecost 17

Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
Psalm 37:1-9
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Pentecost 17 share a deep concern with perseverance, trust, and faithful living in the face of uncertainty and injustice. Habakkuk wrestles with the silence of God amid violence but is reminded that the righteous live by faith, while Psalm 37 counsels patience and trust in the Lord rather than envy of evildoers. In 2 Timothy, Paul encourages Timothy to rekindle the gift of God with courage and endurance, grounded in the power of the Spirit and the legacy of faith. Luke’s Gospel reframes discipleship as humble service, emphasizing that faith—even as small as a mustard seed—can transform, but obedience remains the quiet duty of those who follow Christ.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 17.” Copilot, 25 September 2025, Copilot website.

LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)


Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer): This is the starting point, where one humbly prays for the Holy Spirit’s guidance to understand God’s Word. Luther emphasized that prayer prepares the heart and mind to receive divine wisdom.

Meditatio (Meditation): This involves deeply engaging with Scripture, not just reading it but reflecting on it repeatedly. Luther encouraged believers to “chew on” the Word, allowing its meaning to sink in and shape their thoughts and actions.

Tentatio (Struggle): Often translated as “trial” or “temptation,” this refers to the challenges and spiritual battles that arise as one seeks to live according to God’s Word. Luther saw these struggles as a way God refines faith, making it more resilient and authentic.

Martin Luther (1483-1546)

Luther on Reading the Bible

“In truth you cannot read too much in Scripture; and what you read you cannot read too carefully… and what you teach well you cannot live too well.”

(Luther would have appreciated our Bible 365 Project!)

Check out this excellent summary of Habbakkuk!

Gospel: Luke 17: 5-10

The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

“Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me; put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’ ”

Jesus Teaching in Galilee (A.I. Generated, 2023)

Reflection: Faith Doesn’t Get Easier — It Gets Stronger

Habakkuk the Prophet
(A.I. Generated 2025)

There’s an old runner’s adage: Running doesn’t get easier—you just get stronger. Having been a runner for more than a half-century and a distance coach, I can attest to that. The hills don’t flatten, the wind doesn’t stop, and the soreness doesn’t vanish. But something shifts inside. Muscles adapt. Breathing deepens. Resolve hardens. You learn to keep going—not because the path is easier, but because you’ve grown stronger. This running analogy echoes the spiritual journey described in Habakkuk and Luke. In Habakkuk 1:1–4, the prophet cries out in anguish: “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?” His world is unraveling—violence, injustice, and destruction surround him. Habakkuk lived in Judah during the late 7th century BCE, a time of political instability and moral decay. Babylon was rising, and the covenant people seemed to have lost their way. Habakkuk doesn’t offer easy answers. He offers lament. And in doing so, he gives us permission to bring our own questions to God. This makes Habakkuk a vital companion when faith feels weary. His honesty is refreshing. He doesn’t pretend things are fine. He stands in the watchtower and waits (Habakkuk 2:1), modeling a posture of spiritual attentiveness. He’s not passive—he’s expectant. And when the Lord replies, it’s not with a quick fix but with a vision: “The righteous live by their faithfulness” (Habakkuk 2:4). This phrase becomes a theological cornerstone. Paul quotes it in Romans 1:17 and Galatians 3:11. The author of Hebrews echoes it in 10:38. For Lutherans, it’s foundational. Martin Luther’s breakthrough came when he realized that righteousness is not earned by works but received through faith. Faithfulness, then, is not about perfection—it’s about trust. It’s about showing up, even when the road is steep.

Saint Luke the Evangelist
De Rosa (1607-1656)

Luke 17:5–10 offers a complementary lens. The disciples plead, “Increase our faith!”—a request that resonates with anyone who’s felt spiritually inadequate. Jesus responds with a paradox: “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed…” It’s not about quantity. It’s about rootedness. Even the smallest seed of faith, planted in God’s promises, can grow into something mighty. Then comes the parable of the slave. It’s unsettling. The slave works all day, returns home, and still isn’t praised. Jesus says, “We have done only what we ought to have done.” This challenges our desire for ease and affirmation. We want the faith life to be rewarding, comfortable, even applauded. But Jesus reframes it: faithfulness is about duty, humility, and perseverance. Hard words.

Habakkuk’s lament and Luke’s mustard seed converge in this truth: faith is not flashy. It’s steady. It’s the teacher who prepares lessons for students who may never say thank you. It’s the caregiver who shows up day after day. It’s the disciple who forgives seventy times seven. It’s the runner who laces up shoes in the dark and keeps going. In our spiritual lives, we often long for shortcuts. We want a smoother path, the answers to come quickly. But Habakkuk teaches us to wait. Luke teaches us to serve. And the Lutheran tradition teaches us to trust—not in our strength, but in the righteousness that comes by faith. Again, remember the triad of texts — Romans 1:17, Galatians 3:11, and Hebrews 10:38 — they provide a cadence for the long run.

When faith feels like a grind, when injustice floods the headlines, and your prayers seem to vanish into silence—open Habakkuk! Climb the watchtower. Speak the hard truths. Demand answers. And listen: “There is still a vision for the appointed time.” Then lace up. Run. Not because the path smooths out, but because your spirit grows stronger with every step. Faith doesn’t promise ease—it builds endurance. And in the steady rhythm of trust, in the quiet certainty of God’s faithfulness, you’ll find the strength to keep going. The world needs our voice.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Prayer Reflection: Strength for the Journey

This prayer is inspired by the Bible 365 Project. As we take on this challenge, we will need to pray about the experience! If you are interested in the lay-out of the year-long schedule, I linked it in the green announcement box at the end of the blog.

God of the Word, You who spoke light into darkness and breathed life into dust, I begin this sacred journey—a year of walking through Your story, from Genesis to Revelation, from wilderness to wonder, from exile to return. Open my heart to receive what You have spoken. Let these pages be more than ink and parchment; make them living water for my thirst, bread for the journey, and fire for the cold places within me. Give me discipline when the days feel long, curiosity when the texts feel strange, and grace when I stumble or fall behind. Let me not rush past mystery or skip over lament. Teach me to linger, to wrestle, to listen. As I read of prophets and poets, kings and shepherds, apostles and outcasts, may I find myself in their stories—and may I find You, always You, speaking through the chaos, calling me to justice, mercy, and love. Let this year be more than a reading plan. Let it be a pilgrimage. Let it be transformation. Let it be communion with You. In the name of the Living Word, Jesus Christ, Amen.

What is the world like when God’s will is done?
Mustard seeds grow more than we can conceive:
roots thread the soil;
branches reach for the sun.
This is how God moves us each to believe.

What is the world like when God’s will is done?
Witness the wandering child coming home;
watch as the parent breaks into a run.
This is how God longs for us when we roam.

What is the world like when God’s will is done?
No more is neighbor just ally or friend;
peace thrives in places where once there was none.
This is how God works when rivalries end.

What is the world like when God’s will is done?
Ready for feasting, we watch through the night,
tending our lamps till the new day’s begun.
This is how God readies us for the light.

These are the stories that Jesus imparts,
filled with the Spirit who joins us as one.
Born through our voices, our hands, and our hearts,
this is a new world where God’s will is done.

Adam M. L. Tice is a prominent contemporary hymn writer and editor known for his contributions to ecumenical hymnody and justice-centered worship. A graduate of Goshen College, Tice has served as a church musician, associate pastor, and editor of The Hymn journal, and was the text editor for the 2020 Mennonite hymnal Voices Together. His hymn “What Is the World Like” (2009), set to Sally Ann Morris’s tune NEW WORLD, draws on four parables to envision a world shaped by God’s justice, mercy, and light. Tice’s work reflects a deep commitment to inclusive theology, poetic clarity, and communal transformation through song. The lyrics are compelling and the last one, in particular, seems especially fitting for the start of our Bible 365 Project!

Faithful Conversations Updates

28 September 2025: Pentecost 16

Introduction to Readers

Gordon Thunder (1939-2025)

“Education is much more a matter of the heart than of the head.” (Gordon Thunder)

I spent my early years in this community (ages 5 to 15), then returned in 1990 at age 33 after nearly twenty years away. Since then, I’ve witnessed many familiar faces journey on—a steady rhythm of loss that sometimes seem to come in waves. Across cultures, people honor elders as wisdom keepers, and their passing reminds us of the sacred cycle of exile and return, of memory, renewal, and life beyond this life. Last week, we lost Gordon Thunder, a gracious man who, with his sister Charity, helped me see the world through Indigenous eyes. They often visited my classroom, sharing stories of history, language, and culture that left lasting impressions on my students. During one visit in the early 1990s, Gordon spoke the line offered above that struck me as both simple and profound—I scribbled it down and have shared it with thousands of students since. It speaks to the heart of education: not just knowledge, but empathy, connection, and transformation—companions I carry with me in my exploration of the scriptures each week. In Ho-Chunk tradition, the death of an elder marks a sacred journey back to Earthmaker, who formed humans from clay and gave them a soul. Guided by prayer, song, and offerings, this journey leads the soul home, echoing the Christian hope of returning to our Creator, where rest and reunion await. You will note a connection to these themes in the musical selection I’m offering further on in the blog.

Thanks for your visit to this space again this week. Incredibly, we are rounding the corner into October and will be engaged in our Bible 365 Challenge. I am reminded each and every week that God’s Word is vast and powerfully relevant in every age. My reflections will focus on the Amos passage again this week, noting how it intersects with Luke 16. Note the prompts for discussion in the Faithful Conversations update at the end of the blog — we will utilize those for our in-person discussion on Sunday.

Common Themes Among the Readings

Readings for Pentecost 16

Amos 6: 1a, 4-7
Psalm 146
1 Timothy 6: 6-19
Luke 16: 19-31

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Pentecost 16 share a strong warning against complacency, wealth without compassion, and the neglect of justice. Amos condemns the ease and luxury of the powerful who ignore the suffering of others, while Psalm 146 calls for trust in God, who lifts the oppressed and cares for the vulnerable. In 1 Timothy, believers are urged to pursue righteousness and generosity rather than riches, anchoring their hope in eternal life. Luke’s parable of the rich man and Lazarus drives the message home: ignoring the poor has eternal consequences, and true faith is shown through mercy and action.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 16.” Copilot, 21 September 2025, Copilot website.

LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)


Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer): This is the starting point, where one humbly prays for the Holy Spirit’s guidance to understand God’s Word. Luther emphasized that prayer prepares the heart and mind to receive divine wisdom.

Meditatio (Meditation): This involves deeply engaging with Scripture, not just reading it but reflecting on it repeatedly. Luther encouraged believers to “chew on” the Word, allowing its meaning to sink in and shape their thoughts and actions.

Tentatio (Struggle): Often translated as “trial” or “temptation,” this refers to the challenges and spiritual battles that arise as one seeks to live according to God’s Word. Luther saw these struggles as a way God refines faith, making it more resilient and authentic.

Luther on Reading the Bible

For some years now I have read through the Bible twice every year. If you picture the Bible to be a mighty tree and every word a little branch, I have shaken every one of these branches because I wanted to know what it was and what it meant.

(Luther would have appreciated our Bible 365 Project!)

The Gospel: Luke 16: 19-31

19 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20 And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21 who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22 The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.[a] The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was being tormented, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.[b] 24 He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames.’ 25 But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things and Lazarus in like manner evil things, but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26 Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ 27 He said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house— 28 for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ 29 Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ 30 He said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ 31 He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

Reflection: How Much is Enough?

In 1821, British poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (b. 1792) wrote a line that still rings true: “The rich have become richer, and the poor have become poorer.” He was watching the rise of industrial England—a world where wealth piled up for the few while the many labored in worsening conditions. Shelley’s lament wasn’t just poetic—it was prophetic. And yet, the cry he voiced wasn’t new. Centuries earlier, the prophet Amos stood in the northern kingdom of Israel and spoke with fire. His words cut through the comfort of the elite: “Woe to those who are at ease in Zion… who lie on beds of ivory… who drink wine in bowls… but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph!”

Amos the Prophet
Kizhi Monastery, Russia

Amos, like all prophets, spoke into a particular moment. His ministry unfolded during the reigns of King Uzziah of Judah and King Jeroboam II of Israel—a time of booming trade, expanding borders, and political stability. On the surface, things looked good. Israel was thriving. But beneath that prosperity, the poor were being crushed, justice was for sale, and worship had lost its soul. Amos wasn’t part of the establishment. He was a shepherd and fig farmer from Tekoa—called to speak truth in the king’s sanctuary at Bethel. And he didn’t mince words. He didn’t condemn wealth itself, but wealth without justice, comfort without compassion, and rituals that ignored righteousness.

Juliana Claassens
University of Stellenbosch

That message still speaks. As Juliana Claassens points out in a sharply written commentary, “An online search for who, most recently, has been drawn to this book (Amos) steeped in the pursuit of justice and righteousness, is telling: Results show many scholars from the Developing World concerned about the state of their people in impoverished countries where the rich are getting richer and the poor poorer—for example, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Myanmar, and parts of Latin America.” As Claassens asserts, these communities face unfair labor systems, resource extraction by the Global North, and corruption from within. Claassens reminds us: Amos’s call for justice is not abstract. It’s urgent. It’s real. It’s now.

As Christians trying to live out our faith, we might ask ourselves, how much is enough? If someone is a billionaire, do they need many billions? What happens when abundance becomes blindness? That question echoes in Luke 16, where Jesus tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man feasts daily, dressed in purple and fine linen. Lazarus lies at his gate, covered in sores. After death, their roles reverse—but the rich man’s vision doesn’t. He still sees Lazarus as a servant, not a neighbor. The chasm between them, once social, becomes eternal. Amos and Jesus both confront us with the moral danger of indifference. They remind us that ease is not innocence, and that comfort can become complicity. To lie on beds of ivory while others sleep on concrete is not just unfortunate—it’s unjust. To feast while others hunger is not just a lifestyle—it’s a spiritual crisis.

And so, back to Shelley. His lament is more than a line—it’s a summons. (Sidebar: Shelley’s was deeply skeptical of organized religion because he thought it was used to justify inequality and moral hypocrisy, something you may want to explore further). How much is enough? Enough to lift the fallen. Enough to mend the breach. Enough to remember that every Lazarus at the gate is a child of God.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Note: I am indebted to Juliana Claassens, Old Testament Professor at the University of Stellenbosch in Stellenbosch, South Africa for her commentary on the Amos passage. You may find the commentary at Working Preacher, a site sponsored by Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Prayer Reflection: A Future Not Our Own (Oscar Romero)

It helps now and then to step back and take a long view. The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another 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 include everything.

This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water the seeds already planted knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing this.

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.

Oscar Romero
(1917-1980)

Saint Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez was a Salvadoran Roman Catholic archbishop renowned for his courageous advocacy for human rights and the poor during El Salvador’s civil unrest. Initially seen as conservative, Romero became a prophetic voice against government repression, denouncing violence from both state forces and guerrilla groups. He was assassinated while celebrating Mass on March 24, 1980, and later canonized as a martyr and saint by the Catholic Church in 2018.

Suiderkruis (Southern Cross), composed by Jacques de Villiers and arranged by André van der Merwe, is a choral elegy that mourns the loss of homeland and honors the elders whose lives once anchored its memory. The Southern Cross shines as a celestial guide for those in exile, not only pointing the way home but illuminating the spiritual path beyond death—a journey through silence, longing, and ancestral remembrance. Sung in Afrikaans, its haunting lyrics ask whether we are still remembered, whether anyone stands beneath the stars to welcome the soul’s return, as the music swells from quiet lament to transcendent yearning—a requiem for the departed and a compass for those who remain. The song spoke to me in navigating the recent passing of several elders in our faith community and beyond.

The Stellenbosch University Choir, based in South Africa and conducted by André van der Merwe, is internationally acclaimed for its emotive artistry and innovative choral arrangements. Composed of student singers, the ensemble blends African rhythms, classical technique, and contemporary expression to create transcendent musical experiences. Their performances often explore themes of identity, memory, and spiritual longing, resonating deeply with audiences across cultures.

Included in the lyrics (Afrikaans)

Will you remember me in dreams and in silence? Who stands amongst the Southern Cross? Who brings hope? Dreamy images dance amongst the constellations. In a time of mourning, we all lose power. Remember me in the morning dew.

Faithful Conversations Updates

21 September 2025: Pentecost 15

Introduction to Readers

Gandhi (1869-1948)

Once again, political violence has erupted with chilling force this week. On Friday, as I spoke with our eldest daughter Kate (b. 1981), her words stirred a sobering truth: we are not built to absorb the relentless tide of hatred and grief that courses through our nation. I hold fast to Gandhi’s enduring conviction—that LOVE stands as the most powerful force we possess, and we must wield it with courage and intention. (Gandhi himself, regretfully, fell victim to political violence in 1948).

As we open the lectionary this Sunday, we enter a tradition that has never shied away from upheaval. Scripture speaks directly into chaos, echoing through centuries of resistance—from the Zealot revolts in Roman-occupied Judea to the unraveling of civic virtue in the late Roman Republic. Like us, our spiritual ancestors grappled with power, injustice, violence, and the sacred call to act. Of course, their world was far different from ours, but evil has been present across time — not a comforting reality but perhaps brings perspective. As Pastor Jen emphasized in her sermon on Sunday (14 September), as Christians, we are to be “purveyors of hope” for those living in a divided world.

Hammarskjold (1905-1961)

Thanks for your return to this venue this week! Counting next Sunday, there are ten remaining in our church year (Christ the King Sunday is on 23 November). We have several commemorations this week on the ELCA calendar, and perhaps most notably, Dag Hammarskjold who was killed (somewhat mysteriously) in a plane crash on 18 September 1961. A fascinating individual, Hammarskjöld was a Swedish economist, diplomat, and spiritual thinker who served as the second Secretary-General of the United Nations from 1953 until his death (sidebar: A teacher I had in 8th grade was enamored with Hammarskjold and we learned much about him that year!). He played a pivotal role in shaping UN peacekeeping operations and mediating global crises, including the Suez and Congo conflicts, earning him a posthumous Nobel Peace Prize. As a man of faith and ethical service, Hammarskjold was deeply influenced by Christian mysticism.

Note: My reflections this week will focus on the Amos passage. I also have included a prayer from the pen of Dag Hammarskjold and a favorite Dylan song that speaks to our time. Also, take note of the discussion questions that will frame our in-person discussion of the Lectionary next Sunday (a new feature).

** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections.

** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!


** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.

Common Themes Among the Readings

Readings for Pentecost 15

Amos 8: 4-7
Psalm 113
1 Timothy 2: 1-7
Luke 16: 1-13

My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.

The readings for Pentecost 15 confront economic injustice and call for ethical stewardship, reminding us that God sees and judges those who exploit the poor (Amos 8:4–7). Psalm 113 lifts up God’s mercy and power to raise the lowly, celebrating divine reversal and care for the marginalized. 1 Timothy 2:1–7 urges prayerful living and inclusive salvation, emphasizing Christ as mediator for all people. Luke 16:1–13 challenges us to use worldly resources wisely and faithfully, underscoring that no one can serve both God and wealth.

“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 15.” Copilot, 12 September 2025, Copilot website.

LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)


Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer): This is the starting point, where one humbly prays for the Holy Spirit’s guidance to understand God’s Word. Luther emphasized that prayer prepares the heart and mind to receive divine wisdom.

Meditatio (Meditation): This involves deeply engaging with Scripture, not just reading it but reflecting on it repeatedly. Luther encouraged believers to “chew on” the Word, allowing its meaning to sink in and shape their thoughts and actions.

Tentatio (Struggle): Often translated as “trial” or “temptation,” this refers to the challenges and spiritual battles that arise as one seeks to live according to God’s Word. Luther saw these struggles as a way God refines faith, making it more resilient and authentic.

Luther on Reading the Bible

For some years now I have read through the Bible twice every year. If you picture the Bible to be a mighty tree and every word a little branch, I have shaken every one of these branches because I wanted to know what it was and what it meant.

Martin Luther
(1483-1546)

Amos, the Prophet

Reflection: An Ancient Voice Speaks to Us

The prophet Amos appears five times across the three-year cycle of the Revised Common Lectionary, typically during the Season after Pentecost when prophetic voices are spotlighted (once in Year A, and twice in both Years B and C). Across these readings, Amos emerges as a relentless voice for justice, calling out systems that oppress the vulnerable and distort sacred practice. His message is consistent: true faith demands ethical integrity, and divine judgment awaits those who ignore the cries of the poor. The lectionary’s use of Amos places him in direct conversation with Gospel texts, reinforcing the timeless urgency of his prophetic witness. (Sidebar: I explored Amos in July (Pentecost 6) when he appeared as an alternate reading offered within the Lectionary).

Amos the Prophet, 18th Century Russian Icon

In the Lutheran Study Bible (Second Edition), Peter T. Nash and Walter C. Bouzard do a terrific job of framing the prophet’s story (shameless plug for investing in this resource!). Amos’ prophetic ministry began in c. 762 BCE and though he was from Tekoa in the Southern Kingdom, he spent most of his time in the Northern Kingdom in the region of Bethel (eleven miles north of Jerusalem). The division between the two Kingdoms of Israel during this time offers relevant context. As the authors assert, “Judahite interpreters from the southern tribes blamed the north and its leaders for the broken relationship. They pointed to the northerners’ rebellious spirit, which was fueled by the polluting influence of Canannite and Phoenician politics and religious practices. The worship of other gods in addition to YHWH was a severe offense. Also mentioned frequently was the issue of economic inequality . . . Southerners accused the northerners of abandoning their shared core value — equality among siblings based on their equality before God.” (pp. 1383-84, LSB). I suspect if these ancient people could have accessed social media, they would have launched vitriolic attacks on one another! It was into this milieux that the prophet Amos emerged. It was a diverse and divided world.

This week’s passage, chapter 8:4–7, comes after God compares the people of Israel to a basket of summer fruit that is rotting. In response, Amos delivers a sharp rebuke to those who exploit the poor and manipulate economic systems for personal gain. The prophet exposes how sacred times are treated as mere interruptions to profiteering, with dishonest scales and the buying and selling of the vulnerable. God responds with a solemn oath: these injustices will not be forgotten, and divine judgment is coming for those who trample the needy. In fact, if you read ahead a bit (verses 11-12), the Lord suggests that the very Word of God will be withdrawn from the people — a chilling assertion!

How should 21st Century Christians respond to Amos? The lessons from Amos 8:4–7 are as urgent now as they were in his day twenty-seven centuries ago. First, justice is not optional—it’s woven into the very character of God, and those who claim to follow Him must reflect that justice in how they treat others, especially the poor and powerless. Second, Amos reminds us that injustice is often systemic: dishonest scales, exploitative markets, and disregard for sacred rhythms all point to a society where profit overrides compassion. And third, there’s a warning here for communities of faith: when worship becomes disconnected from ethical living, God does not merely critique—He threatens silence. The Word of the Lord is not a guarantee; it’s a gift, and when ignored, it may be withdrawn. That silence, Amos suggests, is its own kind of judgment. That’s unsettling, to say the least!

But let’s not leave it at that. The great Walter Brueggemann viewed prophets like Amos as bearers of the prophetic imagination—figures who challenged prevailing assumptions and offered a radically different vision rooted in God’s justice. Their role wasn’t just to criticize; they also reframed reality itself. Brueggemann reminds us that true prophets don’t simply name what’s broken—they envision what could be, guided by mercy and moral conviction. These are words for us to carry with us every day as “purveyors of hope” in a broken world.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Note: In the paragraph offered on the lessons of Amos, I drew heavily from a 2010 commentary by Rolf Jacobson, the A.N. Rogness Chair in Scripture, Theology and Ministry at Luther Seminary in St. Paul.

Note: Walter Brueggemann’s book, The Prophetic Imagination (40th Anniversary edition, 2018) is a remarkable resource and changed my understanding of the Old Testament prophets.

Prayer Reflection from Dag Hammarskjold

You who are over us,
You who are one of us,
You who are also within us,
May all see you in me also.
May I prepare the way for you,
May I thank you for all
that shall fall to my lot,
May I also not forget the needs of others.
Give me a pure heart-that I may see you.
A humble heart-that I may hear you,
A heart of love-that I may serve you,
A heart of faith-that I may abide in you. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Dag Hammarskjöld, the Swedish diplomat and second Secretary-General of the United Nations. It appears in his posthumously published spiritual journal Markings (originally Vägmärken), which blends poetic reflection, Christian mysticism, and ethical introspection.

A Musical Offering: Ring Them Bells (Dylan)

Bob Dylan’s “Ring Them Bells,” from his 1989 Oh Mercy album, hits like a quiet thunderclap—a solemn, hymn-like call to wake up. It’s Dylan in full prophetic mode, echoing earlier pieces like “Chimes of Freedom,” but here the urgency feels deeper, more spiritual. He brings in biblical figures—St. Peter, St. Catherine, Sweet Martha—not just as symbols, but as voices ringing the bells, urging us back toward justice, mercy, and truth. Dylan’s not just singing—he’s sounding the alarm, stepping into that long tradition of artists who speak up when the world’s off-kilter.

The song is especially interesting, owing to Dylan’s dramatic conversion to Christianity in the late 1970s.

Provide a short analysis of Bob Dylan’s Song, “Ring Them Bells.” Copilot website, 13 September 2025.

The Lyrics

Ring them bells, ye heathen
From the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries
Across the valleys and streams
For they’re deep and they’re wide
And the world’s on its side
And time is runnin’ backwards
And so is the bride

Ring them bells St. Peter
Where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand
So the people will know
Oh, it’s rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is goin’ down
Upon the sacred cow

Ring them bells Sweet Martha
For the poor man’s son
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one
Oh the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains they are filled
With lost sheep

Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many
When the day is through
Ring them bells for the time that flies
For the child that cries
When her innocence dies

Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room
Ring them bells from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom
Oh, the lines they are long
And the fighting is strong
And they’re breakin’ down the distance
Between right and wrong

Joan Baez, born in 1941 in Staten Island, New York, rose to prominence in the early 1960s as a folk singer whose unwavering commitment to social justice made her a defining voice of her generation. She played a pivotal role in popularizing Bob Dylan’s early work and became a leading figure in the civil rights and anti-war movements, performing at events like the 1963 March on Washington. and the 1969 Woodstock Festival. Over more than six decades, Baez released over 30 albums and remained a tireless activist, earning induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2017.

I hope you enjoy Baez’s live performance here and her interpretation of this timely song!

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