“Nonviolent protests are twice as likely to succeed as armed conflicts – and those engaging a threshold of 3.5% of the population have never failed to bring about change.” (Robson, 2019)
“There are no more ancient bookends than sunrise and sunset. For millennia we have lived between their cycles. We have come to internalize their rhythm. Unconsciously we are aware of them even if we do not see them. My ancestors taught that it was important to acknowledge these daily transformations: the promise of a new beginning and the invitation to a deep rest. Hope and peace. We live in the balance between sunrise and sunset. We live between expectation and fulfillment. I will greet the sun when I first see it and I will embrace the night when it comes quietly to claim me. I will search for wisdom between the bookends of time.”
This is the text of the sermon I was to give today. Like many churches in the path of this weekend’s severe winter storm, we cancelled our in-person services to keep each other safe.
The text for these thoughts is Matthew 4:12-23, and, in particular, these verses:
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishers. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. Jesus went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.
The video at the end is meant to be played as an integral part of the sermon.
When Jesus spoke these words roughly 2000 years ago, he didn’t say them in English. I know that’s obvious, but it bears repeating. Jesus spoke Aramaic with his family and friends. He was able to read Hebrew, which was the language of the temple, and he spoke Greek, which was the common language of the Roman Empire (which is why the gospels were written in Greek). When the gospel according to Matthew was written, “akoloutheō” (ah-ko-loo-THEH-oh) was the word used for “follow”.
Akoloutheo is also the root of the English word “acolyte”. That association may help us understand what Jesus actually meant when he said “Follow me” because an acolyte is “a person who attends or assists a leader”. Its modern use is mostly related to the church; Acolytes are the people you see every Sunday preparing the communion table, lighting the candles, and carrying the cross.
In other words, when Jesus said “follow me” to his first disciples, it wasn’t a metaphor. It meant “walk with me, assist me, attend to me”. This sense of “hands-on” following is also present in the English word “follow”. In Old English the meaning of the word “follow” was to “accompany”. The word most likely evolved from the proto-Germanic word *full-gan, or “full-going”.
Understanding this etymology helps us with today’s reading. Because if “following” Jesus means to accompany him, to be “full-going”, to be completely invested, it’s asking for something more than most of us learned growing up in church. Because following Jesus is not just about “giving your life to Christ”, it’s about walking into the world led by a radical way of being that completely upends powers and principalities. It’s about full-on, hands-on, joy-filled discipleship to bring the kindom of God to earth as it is in heaven.
Of course they dropped their nets and left everything behind.
When Jesus said “follow me”, he was clearly instructing Simon, Andrew, James, and John to travel with him towards the kindom of God… But it also meant they could walk away from oppression.
Fishermen in the first century Rome weren’t what we think of today. They didn’t own their boats – and they didn’t own the fish they caught. Both their boats and the fish they caught belonged to the Emperor of Rome. When they hauled in their nets, the biggest fish went to high ranking Romans. Any remaining fish that could be sold were sold to make money for Rome. As a result, fishermen in first century Rome were as low in the social order as tax collectors. They were just collecting fish for Rome instead of coins.
Of course they dropped their nets and left everything behind.
They assisted him, attended to him, learned from him as he “went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”
Word spread quickly. Crowds began to gather.
People then, like now, were hungry for good news, sick of being oppressed and frightened, desperate to be healed. They lined roads to welcome him and sat in crowds gathered to hear his teaching. They offered places for Jesus and his disciples to stay and provided them food.
It’s actually not that hard to imagine…because right now, in our country, there are crowds gathering to hear similar good news, crowds lining streets and gathering in schools and in churches to hear profound teaching on how to bring peace into our lives and the world.
For those who might not be aware, a group of Buddhist monks who live in Fort Worth left their home in October on a Walk for Peace. They are walking 2300 miles from Fort Worth to Washington DC… not to protest but to carry a simple message, one that resonates with the teachings of Christ – Peace is within each of us, a peace that passes all understanding… a peace that can heal the world.
I find it fascinating (and important to remember) that everything we see is perceived by our brain and then translated into an image. For example…the white on the outside of these “petals” is exactly the same as the white inside (Asahi Illusion)
“Taken together, an estimated 117 billion people have collectively lived on our planet, and, of that total number, 7% are alive right now.” (Open Culture)
“Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.”
Who knew? (other than the 403K people who have watched this video).
And this. (There is still such kindness in the world)
“During an earlier London run, West was inspired by children he saw in the lobby dressed as Belle and as princes. He noticed many of them wore glasses. Belle now wears glasses any time she reads onstage, including scenes in the Beast’s library.” Houston Chronicle
If setting goals and trying to use willpower doesn’t work, what other options do we have?
Is there a way to use the New Year as a new beginning without setting ourselves up for failure?
Make it easier (based on neuroscience)
Andrew Huberman came up with the term “limbic friction” to describe how our limbic system (which pulls us towards comfort) creates resistance to doing things that take discipline, things that aren’t fun when we do them. In this great podcast, he describes a different way to make resolutions, a system he developed based on neuroscience:
Pick 6 habits you want to change.
For 21 days, try to do 4 of them every day (which means you can skip 2).
If you miss days or do less than 4 don’t try to make them up (or beat yourself up).
After 21 days, go on “autopilot” for 21 days to see which ones have “stuck”. No habit trackers, no long term failures, just a tiny experiment (thank you Anne-Laure Canff!) that you can repeat as you often as you want.
Set New Year Destinations (instead of resolutions)
To move us away from the usual rigid “discipline” of New Year’s resolutions, Ryder Carroll suggests that we think of our goals as lighthouses, not rules. You still need to write them down and revisit them often, but only to see if you need to adjust your course, not to celebrate a win (or punish a failure).
“By all means, set specific goals. Build your brilliant lighthouses along the alluring shores of all the places you wish to explore. Just see them for what they are: concepts, ideas, mental landmarks we construct to prevent us from getting lost at sea as we make our way from where we are, to where we want to be. Like lighthouses, goals are only as good as what they allow you to see.”
She suggests that instead of “instead of asking “What should I do?“, we should ask a better, harder question: “Given the constraints of my life right now, what is one small choice that would make my days more humane?” And once you have the answer to that question, she wisely says to limit the answer to something you can do on your worst days… not a lofty goal that requires you to be at your best.
We don’t need resolutions that prove our strength. We need ones that respect our limits. Because the goal isn’t to become invincible. It’s to become someone who can keep going—tenderly, truthfully—inside a life that will always be unfinished.
There is no cure for being human. But there is grace for being human, anyway.
The following is the text of a sermon preached on December 28, 2025 at Bering Church.
Last week I had a conversation with Diane and Calvin about preaching from the lectionary. During that conversation, Diane said something important that stuck with me: “Preaching from the lectionary makes you read the parts of scripture that are hard…the parts you don’t really want to deal with.”
Advent, the season of waiting for the Light, ended on Christmas Eve as we retold the nativity story. We woke up the next morning to the wonderful chaos of the Christmas celebration… and we are still celebrating Christmas. Today is the 3rd day of Christmastide (otherwise known as the 12 days of Christmas), the season that lets us dive deeply into the miracle of Christ’s birth, the gift of God putting on skin to come live with us and within us.
The 3rd day of Christmas is also Childermas in the calendar of the church, the “children’s mass”. We don’t celebrate feast days the way our siblings in the Catholic church do, but they are reflected in our lectionary… and so today, our gospel lesson is about the Slaughter of the Innocents.
It seems a little on the nose that the Sunday I was asked to preach the text is about Herod ordering the murder of every boy in Jerusalem under 2 years of age.
Because, as a pediatric surgeon, I have personally witnessed the slaughter of children.
I have heard the anguished cries of their parents.
I know exactly what Rachel’s weeping sounded like…
You don’t have to be a pediatric surgeon working in an urban hospital to witness the slaughter of children today.
The news is filled with images and stories of children dying from bombings in Gaza, Ukraine, Syria, and so many other places…Children dying from starvation and disease because food and medicine are being deliberately withheld…Children dying from gunshot wounds on beaches and in our cities.
It’s understandable that we just want to look away…to protect our tender hearts from this horror, from this darkness.
What do you do with a Christmas text about something this horrible? And why is this part of the Christmas story?
Today’s text reminds us that in the midst of Christmas lights, presents, and celebrations… there was, is, and will always be darkness in the world. But it doesn’t stop there. I think it also provides some guidance on what to do…how we are to bring light into the darkness.
Lament
Jesus wept.
It’s not only the shortest verse in the Bible, it’s a directive for those of us who have chosen to follow Jesus. Like Rachel, like the mothers in Bethlehem, in the face of unthinkable tragedy, it’s not only ok that we mourn, it is important that we lament, that we embody our sorrow… that we weep, tear our clothes, cover ourselves with ashes.
Like Rachel and the mothers in Bethlehem, we need to let our hearts be broken by that which breaks the heart of God.
Be angry
Profound sorrow is often accompanied by anger, even if we try to (or have been taught to) suppress it. Rebecca Solnit, who is one of my favorite philosophers and activists, quotes Rev. Dr. Renita J Weems who teaches that “rage is a form of prayer”. It’s a form of prayer because rage is not primarily about the anger, it’s about the love and care that underlies that anger.
So don’t worry if you feel rage with your sorrow… it’s holy.
Watch for the way opening
Today’s scripture lessons start by teaching us that in the face of unbearable sorrow we are to lament, weep, and even shake our fists at God in anger. But then, we need to let go, we need to “put our trust in YHWH’s unfailing love.” (from another of today’s readings, Isaiah 63:7-9)
When I say “let go”, let me be clear. I’m not talking about letting go of the grief – I’m talking about transforming it in a way that allows us to “watch for the way opening” as the Quakers say.
The mothers in our story never stopped grieving. Each of them had waves of grief that were unrelenting, waves of grief that tumbled them in the surf of sorrow and then threw them to the ground. But as time went on they began to realize, like everyone who has experienced this kind of intense grief, that although the waves never stop, they begin to decrease in intensity and frequency. In the midst of grief there are moments where we can finally stand up without being knocked down… and in those moments sorrow can be transformed.
Joseph must have felt sorrow, too… along with tremendous anger. His fiancee became pregnant, but not by him. He had to obey a ruthless tyrant and take Mary to Jerusalem so Herod could know how many people to tax. And then, when they got there, it was so crowded there was no place to stay…
And, yet…
Joseph got up.
Not once, not twice, but three times.
He had three different dreams and each time the same thing happened…
He had a dream not to divorce Mary… and “Joseph got up and did as the angel of God directed.”
He had a dream to escape with Mary and Jesus to Egypt… and “Joseph got up, awakened Jesus and Mary, and they left that night for Egypt.”
He had a dream to return to Israel with Jesus after the death of Herod… and “Joseph got up, awakened Jesus and Mary, and they returned to the land of Israel.”
The word in Greek that is translated as “dream” in Matthew is specific for a dream that is a clear message sent by God. This word is used only 21 times in the Bible, and only 6 times in the New Testament… all in the Gospel according to Matthew.
We believe that God is still speaking to us in dreams, events, conversations, natural beauty, art, poetry, imagination… Sometimes it’s with a loud voice…urgent messages like the ones Joseph heard, but more often it’s a whisper, words that enter our awareness like a sacred secret. As John C. Dorheur, pastor and former President of the UCC explains “Sacred moments and new truth and inspired wisdom can come to us along many pathways. Some moments of insight are approached through disciplines we cultivate for that very purpose. Other epiphanies come utterly by surprise, the product less of our cultivation than of some unexpected inspiration that the universe conspires to create.
So I return to the questions I started with…
What do you do with a Christmas text about something this horrible? And why is this part of the Christmas story?
Today’s gospel reading reminds us that darkness has always been and will always be present in the world, that there are times that it will drop us to our knees in grief or fear. But it also gives us a glimpse about how to move through that darkness, to remember that Light was born into the world, a Light that shines in the darkness, a Light that darkness cannot overcome. (John 1:5).
We are to bear witness.
When faced with unbearable tragedy, when we find ourselves in the throes of darkness, we are to bear witness, to not look away. As painful as it is, we are to let our hearts be broken by that which breaks the heart of God.
Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering, there is a crack, a crack in everything that’s how the light gets in.
We are to lament (and not be surprised if we are angry).
We are to embody our sorrow and feel rage at the injustice… honest emotions, felt deeply.
We are to trust.
Having faced the darkness, felt deep sorrow and anger, we then need to let go. We can’t let sorrow and anger consume us. Through faith we watch for moments that let us begin to transform our sorrow and our anger, looking for the Light that is able to shine through our brokenness …and then we are to take that Light into the world to do what Love would have us do.
May we be open to the many ways that God is still speaking – in our dreams, in the actions and words of angels among us, in quiet whispers and gentle touch, in birdsong and sunrise.
In the dark, in times of sorrow, fear, and anger may we watch for the way opening.
And then, like Joseph, may we listen, get up, and obey.
Amen
Sermons are meant to be heard, more than read. If you want to listen, you can find this sermon here (The sermon starts at 18:43).
Caring for those who are ill or injured is a 24 hours a day job, 365 days a year… including the holidays.
Being on call during the holidays comes with a little sadness, but it’s complicated. If you’ve ever worked in a hospital during the holidays, you know it’s special in a way that’s hard to describe. Somehow everything seems a little gentler. Even though everyone working would like to be home, they also realize it’s even more true for the patients…. especially if they are children. Kids in the hospital at Christmas tug at the heartstrings of everyone except the very few not-yet-transformed Grinches or Scrooges (and even they are not immune).
But it’s not just doctors and nurses, it’s everyone working during the holidays whose work helps to make others whole… because healing isn’t just about procedures, medications, and diagnosis… it’s about making others whole. In fact, the word literally means “to make whole”.
Old English hælan “cure; save; make whole, sound and well,” from Proto-Germanic *hailjan (source also of Old Saxon helian, Old Norse heila, Old Frisian hela, Dutch helen, German heilen, Gothic ga-hailjan “to heal, cure”), literally “to make whole” (from PIE *kailo- “whole;” see health).
Police officers, fire fighters, EMTs, paramedics, 911 dispatchers, social workers, counselors, clergy all work to decrease suffering and heal. So do the people who clean, cooking, answer phones, or do anything to make that healing possible.
So Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Joyous Solstice to all who are working over the next few weeks… and all who support them in this work. All of our winter celebrations have one thing in common… celebrating light coming into a world that struggles with darkness, light that heals.
If you are working during the holidays, thank you for being that light.
p.s. My family makes this cranberry bread every year for Christmas. It’s delicious, makes your house smell incredibly wonderful, and (BTW) is a fabulous way to say “Thank you!” to a healer in your life who is working during the holidays.
Mix dry ingredients together in a bowl:
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
Combine in a Pyrex measuring cup:
2 Tbsp melted butter
Juice and grated rind of one large orange
Fill with boiling water to make 3/4 cup then add to dry ingredients. Then add the following to the batter
1 egg
1 cup nuts (chopped walnuts)
1 cup raw cranberries (cut in half)
Bake in loaf pan (325° for metal pan, 300° for glass pan) for 1 hour
Test with toothpick
p.p.s. If you are particularly motivated to bake and give some away to neighbors and friends multiplying by 9 is the key to easy measurement:
Mix dry ingredients together in a bowl:
1 5 lb bag flour
1 4 lb bag sugar
1 1/2 tblsp salt
4 1/2 tblsp baking powder
1 1/2 tblsp baking soda
Combine in a Pyrex measuring cup:
1 1/8 cup melted butter (2.25 sticks)
Juice and grated rind of nine large oranges
Fill with boiling water to make 6 3/4 cup then add to dry ingredients
Add 9 eggs
9 cup nuts (chopped walnuts) = 3 lbs
9 cup raw cranberries (cut in half) = 3 12 oz bags
Bake in loaf pans (325° for metal pan, 300° for glass pan) for 1 hour
Get in shape, meet new friends, AND help the environment?
Screengrab photo from here which I learned about here
Spogomi is a new “sport” where teams of people compete to pick up as much litter as they can in a specified time period.
“Some 53 million tonnes of plastic waste and 4.5 trillion cigarette butts are discarded on streets and landscapes globally each year. Japanese runner Kenichi Mamitsuka began scooping up some of them on his morning jogs in 2008, and soon hit on the idea of gamifying his public-spirited act to raise awareness of littering.” From this article
Cash to pay to talk to your doctor after hours?
“My father was on the phone for a long time with the nurse in his primary care doctor’s office working out a challenge with the timing of his various medications. They accidentally got cut off, so he called back… just after 5pm. The phones had been automatically transferred to the answering service and he was told that if he wanted to talk to someone he would have to pay in cash.”
I asked a few questions to make sure I had heard the friend telling me this story correctly (since I couldn’t believe what I had heard…)
Have you experienced this or know someone who has?
The size of life
I hope you enjoy this amazing work as much as I did. Thank you Neal Agarwal and Julius Csotonyi!!
It’s a hard morning in the world today, a morning that follows a series of hard mornings. I feel like we are being inundated with surplus suffering, that our world is carrying so much pain. But as much as we would like to look away, it’s not what this moment calls for.
We need to nurture hope.
Last year, Rebecca Solnit wrote this essay about the despair many of us are feeling.. .and what to do in response to that despair. She helped me understand how to respond to feeling overwhelmed by darkness, how to reclaim our agency so we can shine light into the world.
Hope is a discipline, not a feeling. Which means, like all disciplines, it can be nurtured by specific practices – telling the truth, showing up, being angry (and using that anger appropriately), courage, and using stories to restore ourselves and our communities.
Tell the truth. We don’t have pretend things are ok or try to gloss over the horror of blood on a beach after a celebration of light, in fact it’s a disservice if we do.
When we choose hope we become part of the movement that boldly looks hatred in the face and says out loud “Not this.” When we choose hope, we hold space for others so they, too, can begin to see the possibility of change.
Show up, don’t give up. Presence is far more powerful than most of us give it credit for. Choosing to not look away is a form of presence. So are vigils, cards written to console, protests, prayers, and quiet petitions.
First of all, hope does not mean saying this is not bad, and it does not mean saying that we can defeat it. It just means saying we will keep showing up. That we will not give up.
Be angry. Rebecca Solnit quotes Rev. Dr. Renita J Weems who reminds us that “rage is a form of prayer” because rage is not primarily about anger, it’s about the love and care that underlies that anger. Use the anger as fuel to carry out what love demands of you.
“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him,” GK Chesterson once wrote, explaining why it’s so easy to lose sight of the prime mover that is love.
“Make your mind an independent republic of hope.” This may be my favorite of these disciplines. Human beings are hard-wired for fear. We can’t change our primitive (and protective) fears…but we can choose to override them. Said a different way – We can let ourselves be “colonized” by fear (which is almost always what lies beneath hatred and anger) or we can courageously choose to be “an independent republic of hope.”
“Hope it’s not something you’re born with, it’s something you make. It’s something you decide. And then it’s something you do. You get up every morning and you make it again. The next day you put it on just like you put on your shoes.”
Study the heroes. Remind yourself (and your fearful brain) that there are teachers of hope we can emulate. It’s not just about looking for masters of hope… There are heroes of hope everywhere. By all means read about the heroes of history, but don’t forget to look for small acts of heroism, too … acts of kindness or courage, signs of solidarity, courage in the face of oppression.
We learn who we are and our place in the world by telling stories. There is none more familiar or beloved than the hero’s journey, the tale of one who bravely decides to go into the unknown. It is a universal narrative, spanning time and culture. Yet as the spiritual writer Henri Nouwen once observed, “the most personal is the most universal, the most hidden is the most public, and the most solitary is the most communal.” Hearing another person’s courageous journey, we can’t help but consider our own.
Lay up stores of love, care, trust, community and resolve. The practice of hope, of refusing to give in to despair, requires great care. There are times when the darkness feels overwhelming, times when we all need to be able to access our stores of spiritual nutrition and support. Take care of yourself, build genuine community, and keep your moral compass in good working order for the times you will really need it. Make it a practice to collect stories of love, care, trust, community, and resolve, stories you can return to when your reservoir of hope runs low.
