The stone that keeps it all together

(Updated) Whenever I hear today’s Gospel story, I imagine one of those classic movie-trailers, where a narrator speaks with an ominous bass voice:

"In a world where God planted a vineyard, but where the tenants harvest terror, (insert here a dramatic pause for quick takes of mayhem and destruction) there seems to be no hope. But they can’t imagine what’s in store for them…when the Master returns!"

Jesus loved to use images that people could relate to. He talked of shepherds and sheep, women baking bread and cleaning house, builders building and travelers on the road. And vineyards! He loves images of vineyards like the ones in the Gospel of Matthew. Today’s lesson is a simple story but there’s a whole lot going on, so let’s look at the story one piece at a time:

This vineyard represents the world God made. It is the place where we are and where we live our lives. The question is what are we going to do with the vineyard we’ve been given?

The story goes that a landowner plants a vineyard, puts up a fence, dug a wine press, and erected a watchtower. This is like God at creation where God separated the water from the land; put creatures and people on the land; and gave us talent and the skill and then told us to take care of creation and use our creativity and smarts to do good things.

We are the tenants of creation, and the stewards of God’s farmland, just like how in Jesus’ day, the job of the tenant of the vineyard was to work the land on behalf of the owner.

In today’s Gospel, we hear that these particular tenants do a decent job. They took good care of the land. They enjoy it. The rub comes when they decide not to share, but to keep everything they harvest for themselves. They forgot whose vineyard it is and who they work for.

So, the landowner sent servants to collect what the vineyard has earned. This is like God who sent his holy prophets to his people. And yet the people didn’t listen. They rebelled, and sinned, and transgressed the law – again and again and again.

At last, the owner sends his son, saying, “They will respect my son.” Of course, they don’t. In their greed and pride, they kill the heir. Having done that, they have finally incurred enough of the owner’s wrath that he sends in the police—or more precisely the army—to evict the tenants. After kicking them out (cue the quick takes of the hero taking on the thugs), he hires new stewards to care for, and probably repair, the vineyard.

Clearly, this whole story is an allegory written to help a young church, a generation or three removed from the actual ministry of Jesus, understand the how and why of God’s salvation. They are making a case for not only why the covenant with the Jews is now extended to Gentiles, but it’s also making a case that, if we’re not careful, we could just as easily lose it all.

Ever since this Gospel story was first recorded two millennia ago, a debate has raged in the church: which is more important, charisma or order? Which would we rather have, the discipline of order—knowing the rules and who’s boss—or openness to the charism of the Spirit of God? Sometimes the battle has been my kind of order is better than yours, and I know it because God told me so (nyah)! Matthew seems to be landing on the side of order (unlike Luke who is All Spirit All the Time), and, frankly, I think that this time Matthew is on the wrong side of the argument.

Let’s go back to the story and I’ll show you why.

The landowner’s son in today’s Gospel represents, of course, Jesus. And Matthew has Jesus telling this story on his journey to the cross. Jesus is in Jerusalem and Matthew shows him teaching in the temple, where he’s overturned the seller’s tables and thrown the moneychangers out on their ears. The bad guys are incensed and, twirling their mustaches and looking evil, are plotting Jesus’ demise. Matthew’s church remembers Jesus’ story not just for the melodrama but mainly to describe what God has been up to in Jesus and in building up his church.

And then we hear Jesus changing metaphors and calling himself a stone…a stone tossed in the trash hear because it isn’t the right shape…but instead becomes the keystone, the cornerstone of something entirely new. Again, Matthew is not only describing Jesus but the whole church. It is not just Jesus who was rejected given up for dead, but lots of people. And all of them are being used by God for something new.

The early church liked the image of the rejected stone winning out, because it appears in the Gospels and in 2 Peter, in other words from very early in the church’s life and for a long time after. And we’ve heard it, too, over and over again – in stories, in sermons, in the examples of faithful people in our lives and in our everyday experiences. And yet, despite the repetition, we go right on doing what we’ve always done! The good news is that God never gives up on us.

In Christ, God comes to broken, stubborn and ignorant humanity, and gives us forgiveness, direction, hope, power, and strength to keep on learning, growing, and trying anew.  The rejection and apparent defeat of the cross is not the end of the story. Jesus’ resurrection and the gift of the Holy Spirit God shows us that we are still writing this Gospel story. God’s story and ours are not over yet. There is still time for change, still time for new plot lines, still time to introduce new characters.

Today is the 800^th anniversary of the death of St. Francis of Assisi, and his feast is observed in several traditions besides Catholicism, including, among others, the Old Catholic Churches, the Evangelical Lutheran Churches, the Church of England, the Anglican Church of Canada, and the Episcopal Church. Pope Leo XIV wrote of Francis: “His life was one of continuous self-emptying: from the palace to the leper, from eloquence to silence, from possession to total gift…. In the poor, he saw brothers and sisters, living images of the Lord. His mission was to be with them, and he did so through a solidarity that overcame distances and a compassionate love.” Francis’ poverty was both intentional and relational: he chose to live with the poor, his intentional poverty convicting society of the sins of unintentional poverty imposed on our neighbors. “His holiness,” Leo wrote, “sprang from the conviction that Christ can only be truly received by giving oneself generously to one’s brothers and sisters.”

Another example happened during the Nazi occupation of Denmark more than eight-five years ago. Every day, the Danish king, King Christian the Tenth, rode his horse through the streets of Copenhagen, surrounded by applauding crowds. The occupation forces told him to stop, but he told the Germans that he would risk death to keep the swastika from flying over his castle, and they relented from displaying their flag there. They apparently did not want to provoke an uprising by arresting or killing their king. So, while they flew the Nazi flag from as many flagpoles as they could, it was never raised over the King’s palace. His defiance turned the king into the cornerstone of the remarkably successful Danish resistance.

The Danish resistance movement featured school children, amateur saboteurs, and clergy working with underground networks who kept the Nazi killing machine off balance for years. The Germans wanted normalcy in Denmark, even as the resistance movement worked through not only their refusal to fly flags, but also though strikes, work slowdowns, and all kinds of passive civil disobedience—as well as blowing up something every now and then, and helping downed Allied fliers—to deny them that. How successful were they? Well, one indicator of their success was how relatively few Danish Jews ended up in the Nazi killing machine because a significant number were hidden or transported to safety in neutral Sweden through the help of their fellow citizens.

Today, we live in a world that thrives on division and rage. Even Christian preachers, I am sad to say, will traffic in this kind of stuff because they think it will fill up auditoriums and eyeballs to their broadcasts and social media sites (and dollars in their pockets!). But these characters are forgetting something as they build their measly empires. They are forgetting the One who brings us together, holds us together, and how God really works in constructing his house and planting his vineyard.

You see, a cornerstone is not just a pretty brick decorative sometimes installed with great ceremony but  functions by balancing the weight of two adjacent walls, so that together they hold up the structure instead of falling over under their own weight or when the wind blows hard. Similarly, an arch stands up because the pressure of two stacks of stones meet at the keystone, which turns what otherwise would be the momentum to collapse into the strength to hold up a wall even when we punch a hole in it for a doorway or a window. Just so, sometimes two oppressed or conflicted groups, or a seemingly unorganized group like a congregation, achieves unity because they want to realize the same audacious vision because Christ is the keystone and their solid foundation.

Jesus ups the ante when he reminds us that this keystone was plucked out of the rock pile. Discarded but now essential.

So, what’s your story? How has God turned the pressure points in your life into the building blocks of a renewed life? How has God flipped over your heart and turned loss, chaos, worry, or hopelessness into an everyday holiness that undergirds your life, however slight it may appear? Who in your life of faith has built you up and helped you stand even when things seemed to be falling apart around you? Over and over again, just like today’s Gospel images of vineyards and cornerstones, Jesus shows us that God takes what has been cast aside, trashed, stolen, or ridiculed and turns it into a lively, growing, transforming life of faith. All of us are invited—called—to take part in God’s work in God’s world, in God’s vineyard. But most important of all, it turns out that we are the very harvest we work for.

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This is the Bulletin for Worship for The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost: October 4, 2026 at St. Chad's, Tampa, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for 19 Pentecost (Proper 22A) Sunday, October 4, 2026.

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here.

Change that changes lives

Just what does Jesus want?  Reading through the Gospels, like Matthew’s, can be little confusing at first glance. First, Jesus welcomes losers and outcasts but, at the same time, he wants perfection. He turns aside righteous rich people and yet he eats with notoriously bad and corrupt people. What’s up with that?

Today’s Gospel points the way: Matthew tells us that there is one thing that Jesus the rabbi, Jesus the preacher and teacher, wants from his followers above all else. And that is change. But not just change from one side of some aisle to another. What Jesus is after is change that makes a difference. Jesus talks about change that changes people.

Well, nothing makes us all warm and fuzzy inside like being told we have to change, right? Especially folks like us. How does the old joke go? How many Episcopalians does it take to change a lightbulb? Change?

I get it, but don’t panic. Jesus is looking for something more than simply good behavior or new year’s resolutions.

Let’s look again at today’s Gospel which happens in the context of two familiar stories: Just before today’s lesson, Jesus entered Jerusalem in triumph: the humble king who rode a donkey. People at once shout “hosanna in the highest” and yet also ask “who is this person?” Then, Jesus goes to the temple and famously cleans house, driving away the dealers and the money changers that have taken up the space in outer courtyard, while at the very same time he healed the blind and the lame. These are the catalyst for today’s Gospel.

Jesus, the humble king, the fighting healer, meets the religious elders and the scribes who ask him, “what the heck are you doing?” Or, in Bible-speak “by what authority do you do this?” Jesus, in good rabbinical style, will answer their question if they answer a question of his own: did John the Baptist do what he did under God’s power or his own? This causes them to do what political and religious leaders from time immemorial have done: they punt. They say a study has been commissioned. Actually, they shrug and say “We don’t know.” Well, Jesus says, if you don’t know, you don’t know.

Why’d they shrug? Well, if they say John the Baptist came from God then Jesus will ask them something awkward like “Well, then, why didn’t you pay attention?”

That’s exactly what Jesus does—but he goes one step further than John the Baptist. Jesus’ parable about the two sons describes God at work in people, not just in one prophet. All around us, lives are being changed by God for the better and still, Jesus says, you cannot see.

Now comes Jesus’ next allegory, the one we heard this morning: A father has two sons and a vineyard. He says to one son, go and work today and he says “No!” but then this first son changes his mind and works anyway. He says to the other son, go and work today and this second son says “Sure! You bet!” but instead goes away and does nothing. So, Jesus asks, which son did the father’s will? Well, the religious leaders say, obviously the first son—the one who did the work.

Jesus invites the leaders to look around and see that lives are being changed—no matter how unsavory they may seem. These folks are like the first son, who will enter the Kingdom of Heaven faster than the people who act like the second son—those religious folk who think they are saying “yes,” but never change.

What Jesus is after is change that changes lives. The religious leaders understood what Jesus was saying, and except for a few exceptions, most apparently chose to be offended rather than reflective.

Which leads me to another question: Are you threatened by this? Are you the least bit uncomfortable by this news? Is it my imagination or did these pews just become a little bit harder? I don’t know about you, but the fancy duds I’m wearing right now feel a little warm right now, and this backwards collar I put on today seems a little, well, snug. Why?

Well, Jesus is saying that the addict asleep in the bus shelter, the person in the AA meeting, the people coming to our food giveaway, all those kids hanging out at the Wawa, and the guys at the beer bin or OTB may in fact be entering the Kingdom faster than me. And I must be honest: I don’t like it.

I need to calm down here. And there is nothing wrong with your pew. Jesus is not against religious people. He is not against anyone. What Jesus is for is change. Jesus reminds us that God seeks deep inner change that shows itself in significant outer change. Sometimes it happens the other way round, we change our behavior and a new heart that gets the message. However it happens, Jesus seeks change in heart, mind, and action that make a real difference in both our personal living and in how we are with one another. What does Jesus want? He wants change that changes lives.

Okay, so what does that look like? Let’s take a look at those two sons again.

Both of these guys need to change. The first son is the one who obviously changes—and we cheer him on—says “no” at first, but thinks better of it, turns around and does the work. He knows what is right and does it, even if he was at first grumpy and resistant. The second son needs changing, too. Because he knows what must be done but either by way of distraction or, perhaps, people pleasing or just plain old passive resistance, walks away from the work. The second son says “yes” but his heart—and his feet-- says “no.”

Both need to do the right thing: one needs to line up his will and his actions, and the other needs to line up his heart and his words. Either way, both need to change. The one who changes not only changes himself, but he also ends up making a difference to those around him.

What does Jesus want? He wants change that changes lives.

Hmm. It’s actually simpler than it looks.

There is always room for growth and change. No matter how faithful and how observant a person is, no matter how proficient a person may be at prayer, service, and knowledge in the Bible, there is always room from growth and change. Jesus was particularly hard on the elders and chief priests when they did not see in themselves the room for change—who thought they had this faithful living thing figured out and down pat. Jesus lifted up tax-collectors and prostitutes who not only changed, and began to the process of learning to live differently, who welcomed, however tentatively, the opportunity to change.

Start where you are, not where you are not. One of the reasons the big-wigs resented Jesus’ ministry is that he did not expect people to become perfect before he welcomed their change. There is an important lesson here: too often we put off our own conversion because we know we aren’t ready. Deadly Temptation Alert! None of us are ready. Get over waiting to be ready. Don’t worry about getting your spiritual or emotional ducks in a row! God knows we are not ready, that’s why we need to change! Because God always starts where we are, right now and no place else.

The point of Godly change is to make a positive difference in the lives of others. The purpose of Godly change is to make a difference in God’s creation. This is not self-help. We are not converted as part of a three-step process of self-improvement. We are changed to become God’s visible face, tangible hands and beating heart in a world that desperately needs blessing, help, and justice. One way that we will know that we are becoming the people God made us to be is when we find ourselves making a positive change in the lives of the people around us.

And that will happen on many levels. Lives will be blessed. We will uphold the dignity of others. We will defend and befriend those who have no friends. We will care for those who have no one to care for them. We will visit the lonely. We will hold our leaders, both political and religious, accountable when they, in our name, make policies that ignore or exploit or harm the poorest and most defenseless around us. We will know we are changing when we see others around making a difference in the lives around them. We will know we are changing our vision and our hearts when we will rejoice that people are changing and orienting their lives to God even if—especially if—they are not at all like us. When we don’t mind what religion they follow, or who they vote for, or where they hail from, but see them as the people God made and loves unconditionally.

What does Jesus want? It’s not so strange after all! Jesus wants us to change in a way that changes lives—so that we will in action and intention—make a real, positive difference in the lives of the people God gave us.

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This is the Bulletin for Worship for The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost: September 27, 2026 at St. Chad's, Tampa, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for 18 Pentecost (Proper 18A) Sunday, September 6, 2026.

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here.

Work and Grace in the Vineyard

Stop me if you’ve heard this one: A minister died and went to heaven. You know…the usual picture: He is standing in a long line of potential saints waiting to be vetted by St. Peter at the pearly gates. He looks ahead of him and sees a strange assortment of people, in particular the guy right in front of him, a guy named Mort, a New York taxi driver. He was short, unshaven, wearing a ball cap and a stained t-shirt. He smoking a cigar and spoke very gruffly with words like “Hey! Will ya hurry it up, up there?” and “I ain’t got all day!” 

The pastor thought, as he straightened the lapel on his black clerical suit, this should be interesting.

When Mort finally got to the lectern, he was warmly greeted by Saint Peter, who reached into an ornate jeweled box, and gave him a beautiful white and golden robe, a jeweled crown and with the words “Well done, good and faithful servant,” as he was led into heaven, with angel choirs singing as he was ushered in. 

Then the minister stepped up. Peter looked the pastor up and down over the top of his spectacles, with a “hmph.” Read over the list, uttering a series of grunts and clicking his tongue as he went. Sighing, he signals the pastor forward without looking up. Reaching down into a cardboard box on the floor, he gave the minister a terry cloth bathrobe, a pair of worn out fuzzy slippers, and a paper crown. He was then handed off to a tired old angel with a flashlight and a kazoo who just looked at him and grunted, and played an off key tune as he’s led to a side door. 

“Hey!” the pastor protests. “What’s the deal? I am a priest of the church! I preached the word of God and cared for the church! That … guy!... ahead of me gets the crown, the white robe, and the scepter…, and… and all I get is…is…this?”

Peter looks up from his book, sighs, and says “Look, here in heaven we look for results. When you preached, people slept. When Mort drove, people prayed.”

We all want life to be fair, especially to us. When we don’t get what we think we deserve, we feel cheated and resent the unfairness, the person getting what we wish we had, and the one giving out the prizes. 

The essence of Jesus’ teaching today is that God gives his grace and favor equally. We learn that God welcomes both those who are new to the Church and those who have observed the rules, rites, and traditions for a long time with equal fervor. This is never an easy lesson to hear: that the logic of country clubs, concerts, and fine restaurants, is not God’s logic. The economy of grace is different than the one we’re used to. Matthew remembered Jesus’ story because he was dealing with an early Christian community that was filled with two distinctly different groups of believers: Jewish Christians who carried with them both the covenant of the patriarchs and prophets alongside the new covenant in Jesus Christ. And there were recent converts, many of them Gentile who were Gentiles unfamiliar with the heritage and lineage of Israel. 

The early church had to cope with this. Much of the real estate of the New Testament, particularly in Acts and in Paul’s letters, are taken up with this question. Do the followers of Jesus who were also Jews, members of the Original Covenant People, have a higher standing in the community and before God than these new, Gentile, converts?

In our day… which is better? We “cradle Episcopalians” or people from other traditions who’ve come to our church and tradition late in the game? Or, even more, what about those folks who come to our church “just” for the 12-step groups, or the feeding programs, or to the Thrift Store? Or who just walked in the door not knowing anything about this churchy stuff?

Well, when you put it that way… I suppose we have to admit that the doors are open to everyone. And that God’s welcome and grace extends to strangers, visitors, newcomers, and long-timers alike. 

And there is an ethical component to this as well. If we start deciding who deserves or needs God’s grace and love more than others, then we not only risk putting ourselves in the place of God, but we start to neglect the health of our own souls and spirit as well as the spiritual lives of those seeking after God.

But there is still that nagging question of fairness. We can’t shake it! We struggle with fairness in the workplace, at school, and in our daily living. We hear it from kids complaining about “fairness” to grown ups wanting their piece of the pie.

We also struggle spiritually. Some religions have a hierarchy of heaven depending on how good or well-behaved you are or believe that what you are in this life depended on how good or bad you were in the last. Some traditions, even some Christian ones, set up a kind of hierarchy of grace that will determine how quickly one can get into heaven or if you’ll be stuck in a cosmic waiting room. Whatever. We can’t seem to get past the idea that God only loves us in proportion to our goodness. 

But Jesus has a different idea. He says that there is plenty of work in the vineyard. And it is all important work. Furthermore, there is plenty of grace to go around, too. The vineyard is big enough for all of us…long timers and newcomers both!

There is a message of comfort and hope to the late comers. So often I have heard people tell me that they wish they could pray, receive the sacrament, have faith, but they tell me, often with a sad shake of the head and a touch of resignation, that it is too late for them. But it’s never too late! What we learn from Jesus today is that whether we come to faith and come the vineyard early in the day or late, we are all called in and we all receive the same reward. It is not too early and it is never too late for any of us.

And there is a calling to and a message for long-timers: God wants all of us to share in his bounty, to apart of the family of God and community of Christ’s people. And while we are tempted to think of ourselves as more deserving or more worthy because of time served, that is not the point. The vineyard, God’s kingdom, is for everyone. And our job is not be gatekeepers or bouncers at the club, but inviters, ushers, and greeters, beckoning and welcoming people in.

Those of us who have been walking the faith walk longer than others have a job, and that is to help invite people into the vineyard before the day is done, give support and help to those who are new to the vineyard, and assist those who come after us, as well as those who are old hands, to become proficient workers in God’s vineyard. 

When we help someone to pray, or help them discover their gifts, or are present to someone in trouble and when we as a community are open to the enthusiasm and energy of people who, out of all expectation, have been called into the vineyard, then we are adding measure upon measure to the riches we have already received. 

Jesus teaches us that there is plenty of work in the vineyard

, that we all share the same wage—new life in Christ—no matter how long we’ve been at it, and that all of us, no matter how new or experienced we are, we all have much to learn, prayers to make, gifts to share, and lives to touch as the friends and apprentices of Jesus that we are.

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The Scripture for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 20A, September 20, 2026

St. Mary's Episcopal Church, Dade City, Florida 

Bulletin for the liturgy at St. Mary's, Dade City, FL

Pastoral Ministry in the Hundred-acre Wood

It will come as a surprise to none of you here, but Bill has walked a remarkable journey to get where we are now: he’s acted in, written, produced, and directed plays. He went to law school and (briefly) practiced law on Wall Street. He taught theater to students…on two continents! He is a sommelier… which is useful when dining out and not drinking out of a box.

I’ve known Bill for a long time. At Drew University, he got me into student pub at the University Center when I misplaced my id. In return, I took him on at least one or two of the Tuesday night weekly communion services that Dr. James Pain led in the seminary chapel. We dabbled in student government, God help us! And, best of all for me, he basically introduced me to Peg, who’d become my spouse, and he stood as one of the “rogue ushers” at our wedding. He taught me how to navigate Manhattan like a pro and, when he was studying at Fordham, he’d show up at my seminary chapel in Chelsea from time to time, just I showed up once at Yale divinity school when years later he was studying there. Back in Manhattan, it might have been Bill who helped me smuggle pizza into the hospital to feed Peg after my son’s birth. He sponsored my daughter as her godparent at her baptism. And after all that, I still invited him to preach in the parish I served on our 40^th wedding anniversary.

But for all that, and standing here now, one question still bothers me: here you are:  writer… actor… director…  lawyer… professor… wine expert… and while you meet all the traditional criteria, you’re not an Episcopalian? What’s up with that?

Well, I think I know the answer to that. And it has less to do with denominational identity and everything with what it means to be a “disciple.”

A “disciple” is a friend and apprentice of Jesus Christ.

Most of the definitions I’ve read say something like a disciple is “student” and a “follower” of Jesus or someone in leadership. That’s true, but I say “friend and apprentice” because of what the Gospels show us Jesus being and doing as a travelling rabbi with his happy band of women and men. His disciples weren’t merely students, but imitators. And Jesus wasn’t just a travelling rabbi, their religious master and teacher, but he was their companion, their confidant, and above all, their friend.

In the Gospel lesson this afternoon, we hear Jesus getting ready to send out his friends and apprentices to do some unexpected things.

I can see it now. They are hanging on Jesus’ every word. He says, “Look at how big the field is. Look at how much work there is to do! Pray for people who can do the work!” And just as they fold their hands, piously bow their heads, and close their eyes, Jesus says “Well, hallelujah! God has answered our prayers!” The disciples look around confused, wondering where the crowd of eager volunteers is, when Jesus looks at them and says, “You, my friends, are the answer to our prayers!”

To which the disciples stammer in confusion, and he walks down the road “Wait! What?” they say as they try to catch up. “But, but, but Jesus... I thought… we thought we were going to be… you know, leaders!”

“Who says you aren’t?”

“I thought we were going to get other people to do this stuff!”

“Who says you won’t?”

“But you want us—you want me!—to go out there and do that stuff, too?”

“Yeah!” protests at least one or two disciples. “Who do think we are? Servants?”

“Yup. Exactly. How do you think other people are going to want to do my work?”

That’s the thing that we often miss about leadership. By that I mean all kinds of leadership, including—maybe especially—pastoral leadership. Just as Godself is best known in relationship, good leadership, real leadership, grows out of companionship. We think that we elect leaders or give them medals or raises. Nah! Those are just bosses. Real leaders are our companions.

The Reign of God is like the Hundred-Acre Wood. This community, and every gathering of God’s people is, too. That’s just how it is, and you know what? You have been called and invited by God and these folks to minister among them as companions, friends, and apprentices of Jesus Christ.

One of my favorite teachers about leadership is a guy named Simon Sinek. He has a bunch of books, and you can find him on YouTube, and in leadership journals in both the business world and in the church world. One of his maxims, which is also the title of a book and a TED talk, is “Leaders Eat Last.” His thesis is that a leader’s first job is the care and safety of the group being led. Good officers wait for the soldiers, marines and sailors who do the actual work to eat first, even if only get leftovers, if anything. Good leaders put the welfare of the group ahead of themselves, their status in the organization, or even their ambition. He contrasts groups that reward leaders based on self-interest versus those that reward selflessness. And the funny thing is, very often (and there are certainly exceptions… and Scripture has a few things to say about those people!), the groups that promote and reward selflessness are often the strongest, most innovative, and the most prosperous, if…

…And you knew there had to be an “if” in there, right…?  

If the groups and their leadership remember who it is they are serving. And where it is they serve. And always ask “why” we are doing what we are doing, especially when the group has fallen in bad habits or just being well… you know.

We serve God in Christ, and we serve the people of God. And the people of God serve all the other people of God. And not just the people who walk into this room every Sunday, either… everyone, everywhere. Especially the ones who wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.

Recently, Andy Doyle, the Episcopal bishop of Texas who writes about pastoral leadership, wrote in his book The Jesus Heist:

“[Jesus says,] The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Notice how Jesus counts: he begins with the field, and only then the workers. Churches, judicatories, and nonprofits tend to count the other way, tallying members, attendance, and budget, while the field goes unmeasured…. Behavioral science calls [this…] habit ‘availability bias;’ [in response] the Gospel simply calls us back to the field. Count the harvest first.”

The purpose of the church, he says, is not internally focused, insular communities...the work of the church is a motley crew...going into the world...willing to die and be born anew...so that people's lives can be changed.

God has given you everything you need to be exactly the person God has called you to be. And God has given Mount Sinai Congregational Church everything you all need to live out exactly who God has called you to be: open to God’s voice, inclusive of all God’s people, and daring to experiment for the sake of the Gospel.

A wise old mentor once sat me down when I was new to this ordination thing, and she both calmed me down and straightened me out when I was having a bad day. Lois was a long-time member of her rural, small-town congregational church and a retired middle school teacher who had been there, done that. The wife of a dairy farmer in northeast Connecticut, by God’s grace she became an office volunteer for our Episcopal congregation’s daily feeding ministry. I was at once riding my high horse and also dripping with anxiety because of the goings on in that strange and unruly group that was my first congregation. One day, I frankly had it up to here. Neck deep in my own anxiety, I began to vent and whine, probably waving my arms and walking in circles. She patiently listened to me until I finally ran out of steam. Then, after a moment she asked me if I ever read Winnie the Pooh.

Huh? I asked. What has that got to do with anything?

Well, she said (and, of course, I’m paraphrasing), in the Pooh stories everyone in the hundred-acre wood all have their own quirks, behaviors, gifts, and insights. The only monster they fear is the Heffalump, who only lives in their imaginations. And every single character knows each other from top to bottom, from Pooh getting stuck in honey jars, to sad old Ee-Ore, to officious Owl, to bouncy, hyperactive Tigger, and all of them stay friends.

In forty-four years, I have never forgotten that gentle lesson. The Reign of God is like the Hundred-Acre Wood. This community, and every gathering of God’s people is, too. That’s just how it is, and you know what? You have been called and invited by God and these folks to minister among them as a companion, friend, and apprentice of Jesus Christ.

The Charge

Where I come from, the tradition as ordinations is to end the sermon with a “charge,” where the preacher gives the ordinand some wise and possibly memorable words, before we all gather around, lay our hands on Bill, and in Jesus’ name squash his head before setting him loose on an unsuspecting church….

So, Bill, will you please stand?

As a guy who has spent nearly his whole adult life doing churchy stuff in parishes and hospitals, I am in awe, and, I must admit, a tad envious, of the amazing journey that brings you to this community at this time. Because you know what it means to be follower of Jesus in a preoccupied and distracted world. You know how questions, doubts, fears, uncertainty, are the yeast that ferments the wine of ordinary living. Of all your many gifts, this is perhaps the most important, as you walk with this gathering of folks who seek to live faithfully in the world God has given them.

So, start by just being present. Listen first. Then listen some more. If necessary, talk.

Second, listen to your uncertainty, your resistance, and your questions. They are probably telling you something. We find God in the silence, the beauty, in depth of the Word and the immediacy of the Sacrament, in the music and beauty of worship, and in the community of God’s people, for sure; and we when we find ourselves staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. thinking “now what?” God is there, too. At moments like that, be calm and listen. And when the silliness of whatever is preoccupying you bubbles up before you drift back to sleep, don’t forget to laugh. Especially at yourself.

Third, you are not alone. This gathering of friends, family, colleagues, and congregants are the tip of the iceberg of people who are not only pulling for you, and who are also, in their way, learning and doing the work of Jesus along with you, however they understand God to be. Don’t forget to pray and remember that you are being prayed for.

Finally, remember Lois’ lesson: Every congregation is the hundred-acre wood, and it’s all good. You are God’s beloved child. Now, go out and have fun.

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Bulletin for the Ordination of the Rev. William C. Kovacsik is found here.

More information about Mt. Sinai UCC Church, Mount Sinai, NY is found here.

The service of ordination is here. The sermon begins here at the 8:54 mark.

The scripture lessons are here and here.

Reconciliation is the Main Thing (Part Two)

I know what Jesus says, but the truth is this: there are times when I don’t want to forgive! I want to get even. I want my day in court. My pound of flesh. I want everyone to know I’ve been wronged, and I want the one who hurt me to get what’s coming.

That’s the truth. And I know I am not alone. The problem of course, is what happens when we organize our lives around our injuries— when I start to build my living around all the ways that I have been denied my due, and all the ways I have been injured—then it becomes quickly apparent that my life will bear the fruit of anger, of fear, of resentment. And that’s why Jesus says what he says about forgiveness.

Forgiveness happens when we choose to no longer organize our lives around the things and the people who have hurt us.

What the late Presbyterian pastor and religious writer, Frederick Buechner said of the deadly sin of anger applies to forgiveness as well:

“Of the seven deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.”

But it is not magic. Forgiveness doesn’t come with the snap of a finger. Forgiveness is a journey and a discipline.

I remember an example of this from two decades ago, when five Amish schoolgirls were killed and 11 others were wounded by a gunman in Pennsylvania in 2006. What made this stand out from the rash of school shootings that have infected our country (and our unresolved trauma from 9/11/2001!), was that the Amish community not only comforted the shooter’s wife and children, but they also forgave the perpetrator. But what was even more astounding was the anger, the revulsion, and the vitriol that the Amish received from their “gentile” neighbors, the media, and even from preachers, because they forgave even as they mourned the deaths of their own innocent children.

A more startling example happened in 1948. Pastor Yang-Won Sohn’s two teenage boys were shot for being Christians by a rioter in Korea. Yang-Won not only forgave the shooter but arranged his release from prison and adopted him as his own son.

Were these people crazy? How can people forgive such heinous crimes against innocents? It messes with our minds. Yes, Jesus said forgive, but there must be an upper limit and these crazy people must have crossed it.

But Jesus said, forgive not seven times, but 70 times seven. OK, let’s count it up; we must be way beyond that limit now. But put away your calculators and be honest. We know that when Jesus said “Seventy times seven” he meant “always.” You must always forgive.

And then Jesus told a parable about the wicked slave who is forgiven a huge sum by his master but then shakes down a fellow slave and throws him in prison for being owed just a fraction. We hear in the story that the wicked slave gets his just punishment. “Good,” we may say. “He surely deserved that!” But notice that the wicked slave was not punished for back debt, but because he did not forgive. Jesus is very serious about this forgiveness thing.

The Apostle Paul reminds the Romans about another side of forgiveness. He reminds that how we treat each other because of our differences defines the quality and nature of our life together. So, some eat anything they want, others are vegetarians; they must not despise each other. Well, that’s easy enough. We can do that.

Some may worship God on one day, some on another; do not despise one or the other. Another easy one – we can do that! To each his own, we say!

But then Paul asks, “Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister?” meaning, why do we pass judgment on everybody else? Perhaps because we so often see immense hurt and evil in our world and we want to see justice done. We cannot imagine why people maim and kill innocent people. We cannot understand the sickness of domestic abuse, trafficking of young men and women and children, the horror of genocide. These evils need to be dealt with. They need to be eradicated from the earth, and humanity deserves to live in peace and safety. Forgiveness? Was Jesus being naïve when he said, “Seventy times seven?” Actually, no. Remember that even as Jesus was being executed, he prayed that God would forgive his tormentors and executioners “for they don’t know what they are doing.”

So, how do we start? We might look once again at the Amish. Their ability to forgive came from the center of their theology, which is the Lord’s Prayer. They believe it when they say, “…As we forgive those who trespass against us….” Over and over, Amish leaders tried to explain that to journalists and others who could not believe the parents of the dead little girls could forgive. The Amish in that community made quite clear that forgiveness did not take away the pain of the death of their children. It also did not take away the requirement that the perpetrator be held accountable. They were choosing not to build their lives around hatred for the person who caused that pain.

Forgiveness doesn't say, "It’s like it never happened”—that’s amnesia.

And forgiveness doesn't say, "well, nobody could have expected you to do any better"—that’s condescension.

And forgiveness doesn’t mean that one who injured us is freed from accountability—that’s cowardice.

Forgiveness puts demonizing the other person out of bounds. When we demonize another person, we deny their moral agency, as well as their fitness for being loved. In suggesting that the others are incapable of moral action—by turning them into monster-- we lets them off the hook. In so doing, we give away our power for good.

The truth is that when we are hurt and we want to hit back and we want to make the other person suffer but to choose not to, we have taken control of the situation but not in arrogance but in mercy and love. When we make the hard choice to stop organizing our lives around the injury, we are freed from the shackles of living in the past, feed from the fetters of living the injury over and over again, freed from the prison of rehearsing the hate.

You see, forgiveness doesn’t let the other person off the hook. Forgiveness frees us to continue to live faithfully and ethically.

Now I must underscore something that is very important and central to a full understanding of Christian forgiveness. Safety is a crucial component. Safety is all important. The fact is that abusive people often manipulate their victims into continuing their reign of emotional or physical terrorism but sneering things like “but what about forgiveness? I thought you were a Christian!” Please do not fall into that trap! Remember my definition of forgiveness: no longer organizing our lives around the injury? That means that sometimes we need to create a safe space, get away from (maybe far away from!) the perpetrator.

And when we are around people who, for whatever reason, bring out the worst in us, the forgiving thing to do is create the safe space that will not draw us into that destructive spiral.

In a few minutes, just after we recall Jesus’ gift of himself on the cross and just before we break the bread, which is also his body that feeds us, his body, we will pray the Lord’s Prayer. And we will all say, “as we forgive those who trespass (sin) against us.” As you let that prayer marinate in your heart, think about what the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu once said about forgiveness:

“The simple truth is, we all make mistakes, and we all need forgiveness. There is no magic wand we can wave to go back in time and change what has happened or undo the harm that has been done, but we can do everything in our power to set right what has been made wrong. We can endeavor to make sure the harm never happens again.”

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Here are the Scripture Lessons for 16 Pentecost (Proper 19A) Sunday, September 13, 2026.

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here.

Reconciliation is the Main Thing (Part One)

Today’s Gospel is different. There’s more—and less—than meets the eye. Let’s dive in. 

The Gospel passage I just read only shows up in Matthew—and we hear Jesus say a word that won’t show up in the Bible until Acts or the epistles. Jesus says “church.” I see you shrug… so? Isn’t church all about Jesus, and shouldn’t Jesus be all about “church?” Well, yeah, except why would Jesus be talking about church discipline when the church hasn’t been invented yet? 

I mean, the gathering of believers won’t become “the church” until after Pentecost, and by then Jesus has already been resurrected and ascended. So why is he talking about a person in “the church who might sin against us,” when there isn’t yet a church?

The Gospels that we have in the Bible were gathered up by at least four different gatherings of Christians way after Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension. It did not take long for those first Christians to start gathering their memories and re-telling what Jesus taught and did, and then some folks wrote it down. The Gospels record Jesus’s actions, values and teachings, and they guided early Christian communities in how to live and minister together, in this case the community that brought us Matthew’s Gospel.

So, knowing that, let’s listen again.

Jesus said: If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. (Matt. 18.15-17)

Some people and churches use this passage as a procedure guide for how to throw someone out of their congregation. I don't think that's what's going on here. It's about keeping people in community, not exiling folks from it.

What we have here is guidance for when folks in one of these new Christian communities get mad at each other. It’s what to do when members have a beef. And, trust me, whenever two or three are gathered together, someone is going to have a beef, or get their nose bent out of joint, or get offended or offend someone. As long as the church is filled with humans, it’s going to happen. So here is some guidance as to what to do when that comes up.

But though this passage is speaking to a post-resurrection community, I’m pretty certain its roots go back to the fact that in his earthly ministry, Jesus had to deal with followers who didn’t agree or didn’t get along or who did dumb things or who were just plain wrong. So, I am thinking that when they were organizing Matthew’s church and this stuff came up, they asked themselves, “what would Jesus do?” Or, at least, “what would Jesus say?”

It may come as a shock to you, but these problems haven’t gone away. You may not know it but there is fine print in the Book of Common Prayer, where the Episcopal Church lays out a procedure for excommunication. It’s on page 409. And since the BCP is a constitutional document, that’s a pretty big deal.  But there is also rites for reconciliation, commonly called confession, that are equally good places to start.

Now in my 44 years of ministry, I’ve never ever used the “disciplinary rubric.” But I have dealt with a pinch or two in community. I have found that it’s pretty common for people to get into conflict over little stuff. It might be over something operational, like service times, or the style of the service, how we spend our money, or over who does what in the parish, or who gets to decide this or that. Maybe it’s about who wants to get married, or if we should host a 12-step group…I could go on. I don’t know, but I’ll bet you know what I mean.

But before we get caught up in the weeds the procedure, notice what Jesus doesn’t say. First, he doesn’t say, “If someone sins against you, you should sulk, pout, moan, make everyone else miserable, cut your pledge, call your lawyer and swear before God and anybody else around that you’ll have nothing to do with that no-good so-and-so until he or she crawls up to you begging your totally undeserved forgiveness.” It doesn’t grant us permission to abuse the other person, call them names, or turn them into a punching bag. It doesn’t say you should flood social media with accusations, light up the phone lines, send out a flock of e-mails, tweets, and Facebook posts, use AI to create cruel memes, whisper vile things about the offender, move to another church, or write a nastygram to the bishop. Neither Jesus nor Matthew say to do any of that.

Instead, we are taught that if you are wronged, if you are the one hurt, then you are the one who needs to take the initiative for forgiveness and reconciliation. Even if, maybe especially if, it isn’t even your fault. That’s what the Gospel says. The first step in your search for forgiveness and reconciliation comes from you—even if that doesn’t seem fair.

And it isn’t just the offended party who has to make the first move. Remember the Prodigal Son over in Luke (15:11-32)? The dad didn’t send out a search party, but when the son came to his senses and decided to come home and ask forgiveness, before the repentant son even gets to blurt out his prepared speech, the father meets him. And the father also meets the faithful son as he sulks in his room. Reconciliation is found in the act of meeting.

Reconciliation may not happen when the two parties totally agree. It may start when both sides simply decide to stop fighting about it. Not sweep it under the rug, just not allow it to define our relationship.

Sometimes we need help. Maybe the first step is to talk to a priest, maybe for counsel, maybe for confession, as a first step towards healing the breach. The twelve steps of AA talk about this: Steps 5 through 10 are all about reconciliation in dealing with our recovery and taking responsibility for the harm our addictive behavior may have caused.

Jesus’s teachings on forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoring relationships never seem fair. At least not at first. He always asks us to do more than we know we should. In fact, it is in the very next verse after today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus tells Peter to forgive, not 7 times but 7 times 70 times, which is Bible-speak for “always.” (Matthew 18:22).

I wish today’s passage was a magic bullet. I wish I could tell you following it will mean everything will end with a sentimental moment like at the end of a Lifetime movie. Doing this, or something like it, won’t necessarily make the other person either act better or repent. They might not even like us and they might even choose to hang on to their hurt or never change their hurtful behavior. And while we might choose to steer clear of each other for a while for our own sense of safety, none of this is why Jesus teaches us these lessons. Jesus tells us to act this way because this is how God acts toward us, and he is teaching us to imitate God every day.

When things get rough, we are invited—urged, commanded, even!—to make the first move toward reconciliation, no matter whose fault it is, no matter what we think is the fair thing to do. As with some other things Jesus says, we don’t have to like it, but we do have to do it. Or, at the very least, we need to take what Jesus says very, very seriously.

Notice that in this passage is that accountability is not a one-way road. In taking it to the church, or I must add, maybe to a therapist or a mediator instead, we might discover that the one who needs to get off his high horse… is me! Or maybe we both need to settle down. Or maybe to relax and not try to make other people behave the way we want. The community, in whatever form, may have wisdom that hasn’t occurred to the injured parties. However it happens, it requires an open heart, trust in the process, patience, and a sense of safety for everyone involved. Whatever the process, reconciliation is the goal.

In these days of “my way or the highway,” the Gospel insists that the common good—the overall health and quality of the community, the family, the group—has a strong positive claim on us. Seeking such common good takes priority over our own satisfaction, our anger, or our sense of what we deserve.

[I will never forget once watching a mother deal with two squabbling siblings. Both of them brought their case to their parent, with all the drama that kids can bring. The mother listened to both and realized that both kids were right, and that they were both wrong. So, she sat them down and said, “Listen: you have only one brother and you have only one sister. I love you both. Please work it out. Then tell me what you decide.” I was impressed. Because I might have blown the whistle and sent both kiddos to the penalty box or arbitrarily taken a side just to make the problem go away. But the family, the relationships, were more important, and putting the problem where it belonged was a good first step.]

A few weeks ago, I got called into jury duty over a civil dispute rooted in an event that took place more than seven years ago. I was the alternate juror, so I got sent home before deliberations began, but while I was listening to the evidence presented by both sides, this passage was rattling around my head.

When somebody sins against us—when there is trouble and conflict—it’s not just the two (or more) people most directly involved whose welfare is at stake. The whole community’s welfare is at stake in how things are handled.

We tend not to think this way these days. But this passage, along with the other ways Jesus dealt with his followers, suggests otherwise. He suggests that “we” comes before “me.” What an odd thought. It’s worth pondering a bit.

The passage talks about church discipline, but it is really about living in relationship and in community, whatever community that may be. And the good of the whole community is at the center of our interactions, even when—especially when—we’re in a pinch.

So, what do we do about that last part of the passage? The part about when someone refuses to listen? It says, “let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” It does not mean that the other person is a pariah, or that we must be estranged. No, it is a reminder that the Church’s ministry of love, reconciliation, and hope is for everyone. Even for—especially for—the people who drive us the most crazy, or the ones we have a beef with. Remember how Jesus ate and hung out with Gentiles and tax collectors? He didn’t say, “but only if you straighten up and fly right, first!” He sat down and ate. Some people didn’t get that, but the ones who up until then were on the outside looking in sure got it.

Which may be why Matthew included this bit of teaching. Tradition says Matthew was himself a tax collector. Maybe that’s why he stuck this passage in, and not the other three gospel writers? Whatever the case, reconciliation is for everyone. Especially for the people who drive us the most bonkers.

How we work out our pinches is important because they can point us toward the way of Jesus, reminds us of how we have been reconciled to God, and teaches us to become bit by bit, by the grace of God, reconcilers in a divided world.

(Stay tuned for Part Two next week! - atg+)

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This is the Bulletin for Worship for The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost: September 6, 2026 at St. Chad's, Tampa, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for 15 Pentecost (Proper 18A) Sunday, September 6, 2026.

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here.

Challenging Jesus

There is something strange going on in today’s Gospel. Did you notice? Maybe it struck you as odd but shrugged it off because it doesn’t fit with how we typically picture Jesus… but there it is as plain as day. 

Did you notice it? In today’s Gospel, Jesus the Rabbi is taken to school. 

When we read the Gospels, we see Jesus teach, yes; and he certainly heals and shows power; but there is something else, Jesus learns and he changes. What was said about Jesus as a child—that he grew in wisdom and knowledge (Luke 2:52) — still happens for the adult Jesus. Jesus not only teaches, but he also learns. He grows in wisdom. 

Wisdom is a constant theme of many movies, TV shows, literature, and even graphic novels, although it rarely described as such. 

Remember The Matrix? Neo undertakes a journey to discover his role in overthrowing the Matrix starting with his first meeting with the Oracle, a grandmotherly figure peering into an oven baking cookies, in an apartment where the students hang out as if they are doing their homework after school.

In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke Skywalker learns the ways of the Force under the tutelage of the ancient Jedi master Yoda, who seems at first to be an eccentric, slightly annoying little creature but turns out to be steeped in ancient wisdom.

The film The Way, director Emilio Estevez cast his father, Martin Sheen, as a man named Tom who walks away the Camino de Santiago, “The Way of St. James.” through northern Spain. Along the way he encounters all kinds of people and discovers the difference between the “life we live and the life we choose.”

And we mustn’t forget Spider-Man, who is always learning that with “great power comes great responsibility.”

In the Hebrew Scriptures, Wisdom is the personification of God’s knowledge, creativity and transforming love. Rather than focusing on the power of God that sent plagues to Pharaoh, parted the Red Sea and those other miraculous special effects, Wisdom is how we meet God through other ways of knowing. It is more intuitive, depends on our senses, and comes out of reflection, artistic and musical expression. 

Wisdom is where heart, emotion, and thinking meet. 

That’s why, when the earliest Christians looked for ways to describe their encounter with Jesus, it was the Wisdom literature that spoke to them the most. Their experience of Jesus was not just of a person who did powerful things, but their encounter was one that opened their eyes, their hearts, and their minds to the very presence and person of God. In Jesus, they experienced both the knowledge of God and the welcome of God. 

Wisdom is at the heart of Jesus’ encounter with the foreign woman in today’s Gospel. 

Jesus and his disciples travelled through a Gentile region near Galilee when a woman from those parts approaches Jesus and asks him to heal her daughter. At first, he flat-out ignored her. He wouldn’t even acknowledge the request.

She pleads and shouts after Jesus and his disciples. 

Finally, when he turns to her and speaks the conventional wisdom concerning the Messiah, he says that the Messiah is only for the Jews, not for Gentiles like her. He brushes her off saying that “it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Did you hear that? He called her a dog!

Nevertheless, with courage and desperation, she persisted. “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Finally, the picture begins to make sense. Jesus commends her faith and affirms her as a beloved child of God. “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And, the Gospel tells us, her daughter was healed instantly. 

I don’t know about you, but this story startles me because it does not fit with my soft, cuddly picture of Jesus, who here acts in an arbitrary, harsh, and unloving manner—until she changes his mind!

For centuries, preachers have struggled to make sense of it—and to explain away Jesus’ rudeness. We can’t imagine that the guy who would flip over tables in the Temples or go toe to toe with the religious leaders of his day could be… sarcastic! And the lengths they’ll go to smooth it over is incredible. Some say that the Greek word Jesus used for “dog” really means “puppy.” (Uhm, no. It doesn’t.) Some say that he was critiquing the cultural norms of the day… really? By being callous and unkind? Maybe Jesus was using this encounter to test and stretch his disciples’ understanding of God? Hmm… we’ll see.

Here’s an idea. Maybe the Gentile woman taught Jesus… that in saying that God’s covenant extended to everyone regardless of their status was bigger than they imagined. And maybe the early Church remembered their encounter because they were learning that lesson for themselves! The lesson? That God’s reign is bigger than tradition or culture or “the way we’ve always done things.” 

Remember, Jesus grew up in the first century and that he lived his early life only among Palestinian Jews. He spent almost all of his ministry among the Jews – the children of Israel. His training was Jewish. 

His bible was the Hebrew Scriptures. He lived in a social and religious culture that saw Gentiles as “other,” often as unclean, or taboo.

Was Jesus was stuck in such a mindset or was he deliberately pushing the envelope? I think he was pushing the edges of faith outward, taking it to new territory literally and figuratively. I think he chose to bring Good News to everyone. After all, he did deliberately go to a place where Gentiles lived when he encountered this persistent woman. What did he expect? Either this encounter caused him to re-think commonly accepted views about Gentiles… or it was his chance to prove a point!

Whatever happened between Jesus and the woman, he clearly went from saying “no!” to complimenting the woman for her faith and answering her prayer. I think Matthew’s Church remembered this encounter precisely because those early Jewish Christians were starting to see their Gentile Christian companions in a new light! In short, in this story, Jesus is showing an early Church the importance of learning something new.

Maybe Jesus’ mind changed or he was breaking new ground, but the real news is that the early Church—the Church of Matthew’s Gospel—was changing! They went out from Palestine into the wider world of the Roman Empire; and they were leaving the Synagogues of the Diaspora and going into new communities, and discovering over and over again that Jesus’ teaching, the Holy Spirit, and the grace of God was changing people in unexpected places and in unexpected ways. Over and over again, they were encountering people about whom they would say “…Great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And in that they found healing!

In this transformation we see the challenges and inner struggles faced by every succeeding generation of Christians. Their transforming, God-provoked re-imagining of a long-held, commonly known practices mirror and inform the struggles we experience ourselves in a troubled culture during this excruciatingly troublesome year.

Amid our struggles for inclusion, our long history of racial inequality, the ways we understand Jesus, the Gospel, we will meet and encounter people who challenge our long-held, often cherished notions of faith.

Last Friday, August 14, two different branches of the Church recognized in their calendars the sacrificial witness of two very different saints on the very same day. The Roman Catholic Church remembered the witness Saint Maximilian Kolbe and the Episcopal Church remembered Jonathan Myrick Daniels. 

Maximilian Kolbe was a Franciscan priest in Poland who overcame his early, learned anti-Semitism and after the Nazis invaded his country sheltered Jews fleeting the Holocaust. For this he was arrested and sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau. In 1941, when a prisoner escaped, ten other prisoners were rounded up to be executed. Kolbe stepped in and volunteered to die instead of one of the others, and so the Nazis executed him on August 14, 1941. He was canonized in 1982.

Jonathan Daniels was a seminarian who grew up in Keene, New Hampshire and attended the Virginia Military Institute and eventually the Episcopal Theological Seminary in Cambridge, Mass. In 1965, he answered the call to go to the South and help register disenfranchised black citizens to vote. And on 

August 14th, he was jailed in Haynesville, AL, along with six other Freedom Riders including a Catholic priest. After six days, on August 20th, they were released but while waiting for a ride, they were confronted by a deputy sheriff who aimed his shotgun at a young girl named Ruby Sales. Daniels pushed her aside and was killed in the blast. The priest was wounded trying to protect the others. Ruby Sales continues to be an activist for civil rights and justice to this day.

Sales was so traumatized by Daniels' murder that she nearly lost the ability to speak for the next seven months. Despite death threats made to her and her family, Sales testified at Tom Coleman's trial, where he was acquitted by a jury of 12 white men and said in a CBS television interview a year after the killings that he had no regrets, declaring, "I would shoot them both tomorrow."

Sales herself would later attend the same seminary as Daniels and works today as an advocate for civil rights and social justice.

I don’t know if I would ever have the courage of any of these saints, but their example inspires us to seek faith where it will be found, to speak out against racism, tyranny, and bigotry in all its forms. The story of the Gentile woman challenging Jesus is the story of the Church—of us—being challenged every day to see the image of God in the faces of all the people God gives us every day and reminds us of our baptismal promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to love our neighbor as ourselves, whoever and wherever they may be.

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The 12th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 15A

This is the Bulletin for Worship for The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost: August 16, 2026 at St. Chad's, Tampa, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for 11 Pentecost (Proper 15A) Sunday, August 16, 2026.

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here.