Month: November 2024

King Jesus

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “King Jesus” John 18:33-38a

Who has authority?  When we are very little, our parents are the big authority figures. Even if our first word is “no,” the only “no” that truly matters is the one spoken by our mother or father. As we head into high school, we may find a teacher or coach whom we grant a place of special authority.  That science teacher who tutored us through our Advanced Placement exams or the track coach who brought out our athletic excellence may play an influential role in our development. In adulthood, our workplace often demands our allegiance.  We may put in long hours because we love and are fulfilled by what we do, and if we don’t love it, then we value that paycheck which covers the rent, puts food on the table, and keeps the car on the road. Family can take on ultimate authority for our lives. Devotion to a spouse, taxiing kids to extra-curricular activities, time with extended family, all can control our daily living. How many of us will be gathering with family (or those who are like family) for Thanksgiving this week?

As we age, our doctor is often the one who has an authoritative say. On doctor’s orders, we count our calories, cut out the sugar, avoid the saturated fats, and give up salt or caffeine. I’m from a long line of people with high cholesterol. A doctor once told my Mom that her body could make cholesterol out of spinach. Last year, on my doctor’s advice, I met with a dietician to see if we could tweak my diet to improve my elevated numbers. I used olive oil instead of butter and cut way back on eggs. We ate more fish, more fruit, more fiber. I was feeling pretty impressed with myself until I had new bloodwork done earlier this month. All that hard work reduced my cholesterol by a whopping nine points. Thanks a lot, doc!

In time, we come full circle. One day, we discern that the balance of power and authority has shifted. It falls to our adult children to now tell us the “no” that we don’t want to hear.  We find ourselves moving to a more manageable home, giving up our car, or foregoing the season pass for downhill skiing at Whiteface. 

Those to whom we grant authority shape our lives and influence the course of our daily living.  They have a lot to say about who we are and what our life looks like.  Who has the ultimate authority for our lives this morning?

Our gospel lesson tells of the face-off between Jesus of Nazareth and Pontius Pilate, two men of authority, who allowed very different forces to shape and direct their lives.  For Pontius Pilate, the Emperor Tiberias Augustus had ultimate authority.  Pilate was a career officer in the legions of Rome, a soldier who rose through the ranks, thanks to his political connections and his skill with the javelin. It was rumored that Pilate, married to the illegitimate daughter of Julia—the emperor’s second wife, was a particular favorite of Tiberias. The emperor dispatched Pilate to Judea to quell the chaos left behind when the corrupt King Herod Archelaus was deposed. 

For six years, Pilate had served as the procurator (or client king) of Judea.  He governed, not because he cared about the Israelite people, but because he was duty bound to protect the financial and political interests of his emperor.  Pilate had two key responsibilities as procurator: to ensure that taxes were collected and to keep the peace, the pax Romana, at any price.  Pilate’s chief weapons in achieving his purpose were fear and violence, and he used those weapons liberally. In his first six years as procurator, Pilate had ruthlessly crushed three rebellions. He crucified insurrectionists and slaughtered their followers.

More than any other time of year in this miserable backwater where the emperor had sent him, Pilate dreaded the Passover, which awakened within the Hebrew people the historic longing for liberation from foreign oppression. As Pilate was roused from his bed early on Friday of the Passover Festival, he was told that yet another political dissident was in custody, Jesus of Nazareth, whom the people heralded as King of the Jews.

When Pilate entered the courtyard of the Praetorium to interrogate his prisoner, he expected to find a man not unlike himself, a man with political ambitions who used violence to achieve power and authority over the people. Instead, Pilate found an impoverished, homeless rabbi, who sought not to build an earthly kingdom but to reveal a heavenly kingdom, where God holds ultimate authority.  The kingdom that Jesus served was unlike any that the procurator had ever imagined. It was not forged by fear and violence, rather it was revealed in love and justice.

Because God had ultimate authority in Jesus’ life, he had left his hometown, his kin, and his profession as a carpenter.  From Galilee to Jerusalem, Jesus poured out his life in love and justice. Jesus reached out with holy healing power that cleansed lepers, restored blind eyes, opened deaf ears, fed the hungry, and even raised the dead. He taught about God’s great love for all kinds of people, even those whom society labeled outcasts and sinners. If Pilate would give him half a chance, Jesus would even tell Pilate that God loved him and longed to put Pilate to work in another kingdom. But within hours, Jesus would be wearing a crown of thorns. Within hours, he would be enthroned upon a cross, beneath the title “King of the Jews.”

As Pilate confronted Jesus, two kingdoms stood in tension, two very different ways of exercising power and authority.  In Pilate’s kingdom, peace was secured with the sword and kept with the brutality of crucifixion.  In Christ’s kingdom, peace was proclaimed by meeting people in their places of greatest need with caring, compassion, and love.  In Pilate’s kingdom, soldiers were dispatched to inspire fear and maintain order. In Jesus’ kingdom, disciples were sent out to heal, teach, and transform the social order. In Pilate’s kingdom, oppressive taxes stole from the poor to line the pockets of the rich. In Jesus’ kingdom, the rich shared from their abundance to meet the needs of the poor. In Pilate’s kingdom, the emperor declared himself a God and demanded the tribute and sacrifice of the people. In Jesus’ kingdom, God chose to become a man who would sacrifice his very life to redeem the people. Pilate’s kingdom would rise and fall, but Jesus’ Kingdom would reign forever.

Christ the King Sunday was first commemorated in 1925 to assert the authority of God in a world that was increasingly secular. The fires of rabid nationalism were being stoked in Europe. That year, Benito Mussolini dismantled Italy’s democratic institutions and assumed his role as dictator, adopting the title Il Duce (“The Leader”). In Germany, Adolf Hitler, newly released from prison for his role in an attempted coup, had just published the first volume of Mein Kampf. That same year, he founded the SS—the violent political soldiers of the Nazi party—and he was maneuvering to assume leadership which would propel him into the role of German chancellor. In America, it was all about the money, money, money. The roaring twenties were in full swing. Prohibition filled Saranac Lake with speakeasies and bootleggers. The stock market had begun a period of explosive growth; its value would soar from $27 billion in 1925 to $87 billion in 1929, before the crash of the Great Depression. Whom would the world serve? Dictators, mad men pedaling hate, the unchecked forces of capitalism, or King Jesus? The world needed at least one Sunday to ponder who and what should have ultimate authority.

On Christ the King Sunday, we are asked to affirm whom we will ultimately serve—Jesus or the powers and principalities of this world.  Whom will we allow to hold authority for our daily living?  The way of the empire can bring personal rewards—power, wealth, and worldly prestige. Who doesn’t want that?  And yet, the price of our triumph is the oppression of the world around us, the exploitation of neighbors and nature, and the wounding of our world with violence and death. Just ask Pontius Pilate. 

Christ our King challenges us to choose another way, another kingdom. In Christ’s Kingdom, God has ultimate authority, and the driving ethic is one of love and justice. We serve that holy kingdom by choosing to live as Jesus did, reaching out to heal and to feed, to welcome and forgive. The reward for our service is peace, healing, and redemption, not only for ourselves but also for those around us—for family, friends, community, and ultimately our world. Who doesn’t want that? 

Those to whom we grant authority shape our lives and influence the course of our daily living.  They have a lot to say about who we are and what our life looks like. Above all earthly powers, the crucified and risen Lord alone claims our adoration and allegiance. May we go forth to follow King Jesus.

Resources

Paul S. Berge. “Commentary on John 18:33-37” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 22, 2009. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/christ-the-king-2/commentary-on-john-1833-37-6

Jaime Clark-Soles. “Commentary on John 18:33-37” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 25, 2012. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/christ-the-king-2/commentary-on-john-1833-37

Susan Hylen. “Commentary on John 18:33-37” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 25, 2012. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/christ-the-king-2/commentary-on-john-1833-37-3

PCUSA. “Christ the King/Reign of Christ” in Book of Common Worship. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2018.

John 18:33-38a

33 Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” 34 Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” 35 Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” 36 Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom belonged to this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” 37 Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” 38 Pilate asked him, “What is truth?”

Unlikely Heroes

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Unlikely Heroes” Mark 12:38-44

On December fourth, the eastern New York region of the American Red Cross will hold their “real heroes” celebration. It’s an annual dinner that honors Central and Northern New York residents whose acts of heroism or volunteerism have assisted those in need within their communities. It’s a feel-good evening of fun, food, and fundraising that honors everyday people who do extraordinary things.

This year, the Adult Good Samaritans Hero Award goes to four people who saw a car veer off the road and into a retention pond in the town of Clay. Tom Drumm and Lasaros Milian swam to the submerged car, removed the driver, and brought her to safety. Then, once on shore, Judy Kilpatrick and D. Paul Waltz provided further aid until emergency responders arrived.

The Community Impact Hero Award will go to Syracuse Mayor Ben Walsh. To stem the tide of gun violence in the city, Walsh pledged one million dollars of the city’s budget to meeting the crisis head-on. He created the Mayor’s Office to Reduce Gun Violence. The office has implemented a coordinated strategy to work with residents, law enforcement, and other community stakeholders. The innovative effort includes the Safer Streets initiative, which works directly with gang members to keep them out of trouble.

The Disaster Services Hero Award goes to two women: Melissa Roy and Danielle Martin. They coordinate the Community Schools Program for the City of Rome. Like our local Community Schools Program, Melissa and Danielle work year ‘round with at-risk families to ensure that students are fed, cared for, and successful in school, equipping them to become productive, engaged, and healthy citizens. When an EF4 Tornado tore through Rome on July 17, leaving a swath of destruction through south Rome and into the downtown, Melissa and Danielle worked non-stop alongside the Red Cross to feed the community and distribute much-needed supplies.

These unlikely heroes have shown courage, dedication, and character through their selfless acts to assist their neighbors.

Our gospel lesson this week introduced us to an unlikely hero. Jesus and his followers were in Jerusalem for that fateful, final Passover celebration. While visiting the Temple, the Lord took a break from teaching to do some people watching. Jesus’ friends must have been surprised by what he noticed.

First, Jesus considered some of the wealthiest and most influential people in the Temple courts: the scribes. These experts in the Torah played an important role in the life of Israel. They were highly educated to equip them to interpret the scriptures. They served as judges, rendering justice in Israel’s courts. They were also spiritual leaders, whose authority was passed down in families from generation to generation. Who wouldn’t want to be a scribe—privileged by birth, literate, wealthy, and respected? As they strode through the Temple courts in their costly robes and blessed the people with their flowery prayers, the scribes had the respect and adulation of the pilgrims who had come from across the Roman Empire for the Passover.

Jesus, however, wasn’t impressed. As only he could, Jesus saw beyond the fine clothes and eloquence to the very heart of the scribes, and he didn’t like what he saw. In a patriarchal world where women did not have property or inheritance rights, widows depended on the fairness and generosity of their husband’s heir to provide for them as they aged. In cases of neglect or abuse, a case could be brought before the scribes for justice. Or, in a case where there was no clear heir, property could be held in trust by the scribes, until a minor boy child reached adulthood. Although the scribes were well-versed in the Bible’s imperative to care for their vulnerable neighbors, Jesus saw that these Torah-experts were enriching themselves at the widows’ expense, devouring their houses by taking bribes, making biased rulings, and spending for their own benefit what they held in trust. Jesus’ indictment of the powerful and well-respected scribes would have shocked his listeners.

If the disciples were surprised by Jesus’ scorn for the Scribes, then they would have been even more amazed by his praise for the poor widow at the Temple’s Treasury, outside the Court of the Women. The Mishnah tells us that the treasury consisted of thirteen large metal boxes with an unusual shape, broad at the bottom and very narrow at the top, a bit like an inverted funnel, a shape that ensured that you couldn’t reach a hand down in to take money out.  In those days long before paper money, a large gift of coins dropped into the narrow mouth of the treasury made a loud noise as it rattled down to the bottom. A small gift dropped into the treasury made very little sound.

The gift Jesus’ widow made was very, very small. She gave two lepton, two tiny coins, worth 1/64th of the daily wage for a laborer. In today’s economy, where a day laborer earns $14.54 an hour, this woman’s gift was worth $1.82. In the grand scheme of Temple economics, the widow’s gift was practically worthless. Yet, Jesus saw into the widow’s heart and realized that she had made an extraordinary gift. In Greek, the words Jesus used for her offering are holon ton bion autaes, it literally means that she gave “her whole life.” She dedicated her time, her talents, her leptons, all she had and all that she would ever be to God. It was a gesture of radical love and trust, an offering of tremendous gratitude in the midst of loss and grief.  She gave her very self to the Lord.

I know it has been a tough week for many of us. Last week, I asked us to remember that, no matter what the outcome of the election would be, half of us would be disappointed. I reminded us that God is with us in the chaos and encouraged us to be gentle with one another. This week, my phone and computer have blown up with calls, texts, emails, and messages from folks, far and wide, who are deeply dismayed. I hear you, especially those who feel that the “scribes” have won the day to the detriment of the “poor widows” of our nation.

On Wednesday, I went to the local Department of Social Services. They facilitate assistance to people in need. I was accompanying an incredibly hardworking neighbor, who provides for a large, extended family. They had lost their SNAP benefits because they worked too much overtime. Sitting in that sterile, institutional office, across the desk from an overworked and under-resourced social worker, I pondered the crumbs that we throw to the poor. I couldn’t help but realize how incredibly privileged I am. I have more education than most people would probably ever want. I own a home. I never worry about whether I can put food on the table, if I have clothes to wear, or if I can repair my used car. I imagine that most of us are like me. Whether we like it or not, our lives, in terms of material resources, bear a closer resemblance to the scribe than they do the poor widow of today’s reading. What a terrible privilege and awesome responsibility that is!

I’ve been thinking about those real heroes, the ones that the Red Cross will honor on December fourth. They don’t fly or have superpowers. They don’t wear red capes and tights. I suspect they are a lot like us—ordinary people who dare to care and respond. Tom, Lasaros, Judy, and Paul saw someone in trouble and sprang into action. Ben Walsh had the gumption to seek to stem the tide of gun violence in his city. Melissa and Danielle’s hearts were touched by neighbors in crisis, and they walked into the breach left by the tornado with food and support.

If the 2024 election and the deep divides in our nation call us to anything, it is to do as much good as we can right where we are, to use the privilege, power, or authority entrusted to us to make a positive, caring, righteous difference in our world. We can be unlikely heroes, like the widow, like those Red Cross honorees. We can give holon ton bion autaes, our whole lives, to the Lord. We can make a difference in the lives of our neighbors, especially those who do not benefit from the advantages that are ours. Are you with me?

When Jesus called his friends over to celebrate the poor widow, I’m sure he was thinking of another gift, a heroic gift, soon to be made. The widow’s gift anticipated the offering that the Jesus himself would make. Within days, Jesus would be arrested and unjustly tried, tortured and condemned to death. Within days, the beaten and bloody Jesus would be marched through the streets of Jerusalem to his execution. Within days, he would hang on the cross, flanked by criminals, jeered at by spectators. Within days, Jesus would give his very life—holon ton bion autaes—for the redemption of our world.

May we dare to be unlikely heroes.

Resources

Jon Moss. “Syracuse anti-violence program making progress, more needs to be done, officials say” in Syracuse.com, June 5, 2024. Accessed online at Syracuse anti-violence program making progress, more needs to be done, officials say – syracuse.com

Sean I. Mills. “Worst tornado in 40 years to hit Oneida County; survey team outlines path, destruction” in Daily Sentinel, July 18, 2024. Worst tornado in 40 years to hit Oneida County; survey team outlines path, destruction | News | romesentinel.com

Micah D. Kiel. “Commentary on Mark 12:38-44” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 11, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:38-44  – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Henry Langknecht. “Commentary on Mark 12:38-44” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 8, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:38-44  – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Karoline Lewis. “Whole Life Living” in Dear Working Preacher, Nov. 1, 2015. Accessed online at Whole Life Living – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Mark 12:38-44

38 As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” 41 He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

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The Beautiful Feast

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Beautiful Feast” Isaiah 25:6-9

In October, we revived the pre-pandemic tradition of Committee Night, a monthly evening when the committees of the church gather. The evening begins at 5:30pm with a potluck supper. You never know what will turn up on the dinner table, but it is always good and plentiful. Last week, we had homemade soup, bread, charcuterie, fresh and dried fruit, salad, and a host of desserts, including not one but two birthday cakes for me. What a feast!

We typically transition from the dinner table to our small workgroups around 6:00pm. But as we laughed, swapped stories, and enjoyed the meal, time, as it often does when there is good food and good company, slipped away. About 6:20, I reluctantly shifted us from feast mode to work mode. Committees met, plans were made, and tasks assigned, all in time for choir practice to start at 7pm. That potluck meal felt like a victory as we shrugged off the vestiges of the COVID-19 pandemic and returned to right rhythms of eating, caring, and serving together.

In our reading from Isaiah, God granted the prophet a vision of the beautiful feast in the Kingdom of God. The table overflowed with sumptuous food and the finest of wine. The people of Israel and all the nations of the world rejoiced, feeding on the bounty that God had prepared. Every belly was full, every face flushed with satisfaction. The sound of laughter and song and heartfelt conversation rose in a blessed crescendo. Almighty God, that most generous and loving of hosts, met every hunger, dried every tear, and comforted every sorrow. Then, God had God’s own feast, to the amazement of all. God swallowed up death, ending forever the mortal shroud that parted the holy from the ordinary. What a feast! Isaiah’s vision has prompted hope and delight ever since.

This church is no stranger to the hope and delight that our beautiful feasts can engender. Back in 1927, we called the Rev. Hiram Lyon to serve as our pastor. The recent seminary graduate was a young bachelor with a flair for cooking. On several occasions, he put on summer dinners at Split Rock Farm for the church’s Men’s Club. We don’t know the menu, but since it was a bunch of guys, I think we can trust that there was grilling involved. There is a record, though, of what happened after dinner. The men sat around the campfire until late in the evening, watching the moon rise and the night fall. They pondered the billion stars of the Milky Way and the great mystery of the divine.

Perhaps the church’s fanciest feast took place in 1985. We had building on our minds—the extension of the church to create the Great Hall and the Christian Education classrooms. To share plans and kick-off the church’s fundraising efforts, we hosted a dinner at the Hotel Saranac. Invitations were mailed. Neighbors from the community were invited. I hear the food was excellent and the hall filled with hopeful expectation as we dreamed together about the blessing that would flow for us and for the community when our building effort reached completion.

I may be a little biased, but I think Duane’s and my wedding reception in the Great Hall, almost nineteen years ago now, was another echo of the beautiful feast. It wasn’t fancy. The deacons cooked up seven crockpots of soup. Duane and I provided an abundance of sandwich wraps, cheese and crackers, punch, and a fabulous wedding cake made by Dawne’s sister. Duane’s friends came all the way from Virginia to provide bluegrass music. Little girls twirled around the dancefloor in their princess dresses. And, the golden girls of the United Presbyterian Women sampled and provided commentary on every single soup. What a feast!

It might surprise us to learn that when Isaiah shared God’s hopeful vision of the holy banquet, the Hebrew people didn’t have a lot to celebrate. Gone were the days of unity for the twelve tribes. The northern clans had long ago split to form the Kingdom of Israel. The southern tribes confederated under the banner of Judah. Waves of foreign invasion had wracked the two kingdoms. Indeed, when Isaiah spoke, the northern kingdom had fallen to the Assyrians. Many of their northern kin had been deported, sent to the far corners of the Assyrian Empire. The invaders had almost vanquished Judah, too. They encamped around the walls of Jerusalem and sought to starve the kingdom into submission. Only the forethought of King Hezekiah, whose men had tunneled beneath the city walls to allow access to fresh water and supplies, allowed the hungry city to outlast the siege. As Isaiah spoke the vision of God’s beautiful feast, foreign invaders were again on the horizon. The Babylonian army was rising in the east in what would prove to be an unstoppable tide.

Our beautiful feasts don’t happen in a perfect world. When Hiram Lyon hosted those starry suppers for the Men’s Club, Saranac Lake was at the height of the tuberculosis pandemic. Sanatoriums and cure cottages overflowed with desperately sick neighbors who had come to our village in the hope of a cold air cure. Hiram Lyon knew all about that. He came to the village as a tuberculosis patient, having contracted the disease while a student at Union Seminary in Morningside Heights, NYC. He stayed in the village to pastor our church for ten years and minister to the sick whose experience he had shared.

When we banqueted at the Hotel Saranac and dreamed of a bigger, better building, we weren’t too certain about the future. The church’s Christian Education building—Gurley Hall—had originally been built as a stable and had not withstood the test of time. Under-insulated and poorly heated, it was no longer fit for classes or community use, and our efforts to excavate below the sanctuary to create the Lower Room hadn’t provided nearly enough space for our programs. We were renting space from St. Luke’s and the Methodists. In fact, we debated closing our doors and merging with our neighbors. And then there was the matter of funding. Someone—probably Sally’s husband Bill—had the vision to build, but we definitely didn’t have the money.

When Duane and I danced a bluegrass waltz and the children blew bubbles to bless us in the Great Hall on our wedding day, the church had been through bleak times. There was a full-blown schism with the departure of Pastor Chuck, and we had weathered a lengthy interim with the tough but wise Pastor Carol. People had left the church. We were plagued by poor communication and rival factions. I had inherited a $45,000 budget deficit. We would either make it or we wouldn’t, but we needed to turn the corner fast.

Isaiah’s vision affirms that our beautiful feasts do not happen in a perfect world where everything is blue skies, sunshine, and lollipops. It also affirms that God is present in the midst of our chaos. God longs to feed us, nurture us, dry our tears, and comfort us. The world is filled with war and the threat of war, pandemics, declining mainline churches, and bitter divisions. Yet Isaiah reminds us that God is more than a match for our chaos. God is in the middle of it, fighting to deliver us from all that makes our hearts tremble. Indeed, the God who swallows death whole has raised Jesus from the dead and broken down every barrier that can ever separate us from God’s eternal, unstoppable love. One day, we will all be seated at God’s table, bellies full, laughter ringing, conversation flowing, joy complete. What a feast!

Today, we will celebrate our own feast, here at the Lord’s Table, where generations of Presbyterians have been fed. Our beautiful feast does not happen in a perfect world. Bombs are falling in the Middle East. Children are starving in Gaza and Yemen, Afghanistan and Congo, Somalia and Sudan. We are days away from a hotly contested election that will leave at least half of our neighbors bitterly disappointed, no matter what the outcome. Yet we dare to come to this table, to remember that God is with us even when the world is at its most chaotic. God longs to comfort the grieving, feed the hungry, and dry the tears that flow. The Lord holds out to us the hope that one day all people, all nations, will gather at God’s banquet table—peaceful, beloved, and satisfied. Lord, speed the day!

This morning, like Isaiah, we engage in a prophetic act. As we share the Lord’s Supper, and we pledge our gifts to support the church in the coming year, we acknowledge that we do not live in a perfect world. But with God’s help, we can nudge this world a little closer to the Kingdom. With God’s help, we can live with hope and delight. With God’s help, we can feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, and bless the children. With God’s help, we can build a world where all are welcomed to the table. What a feast it will be! Amen.

Resources

Evelyn Outcalt and Judy Kratts. A History of the First Presbyterian Church of Saranac Lake, written in celebration of the church’s centenary, July 25, 1990.

Anathea Portier-Young. “Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 1, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Amy Erickson. “Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 4, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Julianna Claasens. “Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 1, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Corinne Carvalho. “Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 7, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on Isaiah 25:6-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Isaiah 25:6-9

6 On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
    a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
    of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.
7 And he will destroy on this mountain
    the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
    the covering that is spread over all nations;
8     he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
    and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
    for the Lord has spoken.
9 It will be said on that day,
    “See, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
    This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
    let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

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