A Hopeful Beginning

February 22, 2026 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Hopeful Beginning” Luke 19:28-40

On Ash Wednesday, more than 300 prominent Christian leaders, including Presbyterians, released “A Call to Christians in a Crisis of Faith and Democracy.” It’s a boldly worded statement that characterizes this moment in history as a time of spiritual crisis in which we must affirm what we believe and whom we will serve. They are concerned about the conflation of church and state, the rise in racism, the targeting of immigrants, and the erosion of constitutional rights.

The Call to Christians insists that our allegiance as followers of Jesus must be to God—above any earthly kingdom or principality. It confronts the heretical beliefs of white Christian nationalism—the belief that America is a nation intended only for white Christians, whose beliefs and practices must be privileged. Instead, the statement asserts that the teachings of Jesus summon us to love all our neighbors and see in them the image of God. “As Christians,” the call reads, “We must never preach nationalism as discipleship, confuse American and Christian identities with whiteness, or mistake allegiance to modern-day Caesars for faithfulness to Christ.”

The “Call to Christians in a Crisis of Faith and Democracy” was not headline news on Wednesday. Top billing went to the movement of US military resources to the Middle East, and the Epstein files, and The Board of Peace and its plans for Gaza, and the President’s contention that he is not a racist, just ask Mike Tyson. Undoubtedly, some will embrace the call and feel it is about time that mainline faith leaders spoke up. Others will reject the call as a showy political act made by insignificant churches of declining influence. For those bold leaders, though, it was a clarifying statement in a time when there are harshly diverging beliefs about what it means to be Christian and how we are to relate to both empire and neighbor, especially our most vulnerable neighbors.

Our gospel reading today typically concludes the season of Lent, but this year, it gets our Lent started as I consider in the coming Sundays Jesus’ final week in Jerusalem. Often called the “Triumphal Entry” the Palm Sunday story usually starts Holy Week. It reflects tensions about what it means to be a person of faith and how we are to relate to earthly regimes and powerful institutions.

That first Palm Sunday was a collision of two kingdoms. The Passover Festival brought pilgrims from across Israel and around the empire to Jerusalem to remember God’s long-ago deliverance from bondage in Egypt. It was a time when Messianic expectations ran high. After all, if God could raise up Moses to lead the people to freedom, then even now God could be raising up a leader to face Rome head on and shape a changed future for the people. For the Romans, Passover was an inconvenience, a time to be on guard, prepared to quash any hint of rebellion.

In their book The Last Week: A Day-by-Day Account of Jesus’s Final Week in Jerusalem, New Testament scholars J.D. Crossan and Marcus Borg teach that Jesus’s Palm Sunday processional wasn’t the only parade that Sunday. The Roman procurator Pontius Pilate was on the road that day, too. Pilate and his followers streamed into the city from the east as Jesus and his followers came from the west. As he did each year at the Passover, Pilate left his seaside base in Caesarea Maritima and marched to Jerusalem to ensure peace.

Pilate was there at the behest of the emperor. He rode a war horse, decked out in royal livery. He was flanked by imperial standards that whipped and snapped in the wind. He led a legion of Roman soldiers, the finest fighting force in the world. Bright helmets glinted in the sun. Hobnailed sandals marched in cadence. Shields were strapped to left arms while swords hung from every belt. The message of Pilate’s parade was clear. Caesar ruled and there would be no resistance.

Jesus’ parade was different. His faith had called him to Jerusalem, even though he knew his entry to the Holy City would put him in peril. He came to fulfil the requirements of righteousness: to remember and give thanks for God’s Passover miracle. Instead of a war horse, Jesus rode a colt, the foal of a donkey, decked out in the homespun linen of a disciple’s robe. Instead of an army, Jesus was surrounded by peasants—farmers, fishermen, tradespeople, shopkeepers. Instead of the sound of marching feet and shouted commands, there was the singing of ancient pilgrim songs and the sounds of joy. “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Instead of an homage to Caesar, this was a celebration of another Kingdom, God’s Kingdom.

In Caesar’s kingdom, dominion was established through military conquest. A privileged few benefited at the expense of the many. Power was ensured with brute force, occupation, and crucifixion. In Caesar’s Kingdom, peace was achieved at any price—with widespread fear and deadly violence.

Jesus taught that God’s Kingdom, the Kingdom that he served, was always all around us, growing quietly in the midst of the world’s sorrow and celebration. His every action proclaimed that Kingdom. God’s Kingdom is revealed when hungry neighbors are fed, outsiders are accepted and welcomed, healing is available for all, and sinners find forgiveness. Peace is achieved when the other cheek is turned, enemies are loved, and the path of non-violence is chosen, even at great personal cost.

Two kingdoms collided on that first Palm Sunday. Those kingdoms would continue to be in terrible tension throughout that final week of Jesus’ earthly ministry. It was a hopeful beginning as pilgrims sang and proclaimed Jesus their messianic king. Yet that week would have a terrible end as Jesus hung upon a cross, murdered by the state, taunted by crowds who once sang his praises, shamed with the sign “King of the Jews.”

Two kingdoms stand in tension, just ask those 300 faith leaders who signed on to the “Call to Christians in a Crisis of Faith and Democracy.” It is tempting to serve the empire. Who doesn’t want to call the shots? Who doesn’t want power? Who wouldn’t like to silence their enemies? Who isn’t tempted by the big promises of lasting peace and prosperity. Does it really matter if the price of peace is the exploitation of the vulnerable, the exclusion of the stranger, the acceptance of the status quo, the death of the innocent? Does it truly matter if the super wealthy get even wealthier while others languish in generational poverty? The siren-song of the empire can be hard to resist, especially when the price of opposition may cost you everything, even your life.

The way of God’s Kingdom is hard, my friends. Jesus knew that. Retired Presbyterian minister David Bales argues that Jesus would never get elected today. Who would vote for someone who pronounced woes on the rich and expects us to love our enemies? Who would follow someone who believed power and resources should be freely shared, even with the powerless? It is hard to accept a king who willingly suffers and serves. It is very hard to follow a king who expects us to do the same. The way of God’s Kingdom is hard, indeed.

Caesar’s Kingdom can leave us feeling hopeless and paralyzed, my friends. We stop following the Way of Jesus and we fail to resist the siren call of the empire because we fear that we make no difference. Prof. Insook Lee of New York Theological Seminary reminds us that a handful of well-intended people can create life-saving change. She tells the Legend of the Hundredth Monkey. Researchers used 10,000 monkeys to repopulate a remote island that had been used for nuclear testing. Everything seemed to be safe on the island, but coconut husks still bore traces of radioactivity. The scientists taught ten monkeys to wash their coconuts in a stream of fresh water and then released them on the island. Soon twelve monkeys were washing their coconuts, then twenty monkeys, next forty-seven. Something surprising happened. When the hundredth monkey began to wash his coconut, all ten thousand started washing their coconuts. That healthy intervention of washing coconuts proved to be infectious. The Kingdom that Jesus heralded can come. All we need are ten faithful people or 300 concerned clergy to call for change and believe it is possible.

In the coming weeks of Lent, we will follow Jesus through his final week in Jerusalem. He’ll be making his case for the Kingdom of God, even as the powers of Temple and empire conspire to bring him down. May we have ears to hear and the courage to take action. May we choose to serve Christ’s Kingdom.

Resources

“A Call to Christians in a Crisis of Faith and Democracy,” Feb. 18, 2026. Accessed online at https://acalltochristians.org/

Jim Wallis. “Faith and Freedom” in God’s Politics with Jim Wallis, Feb. 18, 2026. Accessed online at https://jimwallis.substack.com/p/faith-and-freedom

Eric Barreto. “Commentary on Luke 19:28-40” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 22, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/sermon-series-jesuss-triumphal-entry-lukes-version

Insook Lee. “Pastoral Perspective on Luke 19:28-40” in Feasting on the Gospels, Luke, vol. 2. WJKP: Louisville, 2014.

David Bales. “Homiletical Perspective on Luke 19:28-40” in Feasting on the Gospels, Luke, vol. 2. WJKP: Louisville, 2014.

Matt Skinner. “Walking the Palm Sunday Path: A Lenten Sermon Series for 2026” in Preaching Series, January 21, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/walking-the-palm-sunday-path-in-lent-a-sermon-series-for-2026

Luke 19:28-40

²⁸After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. ²⁹As he approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, ³⁰“Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. ³¹If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ say, ‘The Lord needs it.’”

³²Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. ³³As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?”

³⁴They replied, “The Lord needs it.”

³⁵They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. ³⁶As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road.

³⁷When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:

³⁸“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

³⁹Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”

⁴⁰“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

Building Projects

September 7, 2025 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Building Projects” Luke 14:25-32

The National Monument of Scotland was never completed. Plans for the memorial atop Carleton Hill in Edinburgh were drawn up more than 200 years ago with the intention of honoring Scotland’s fallen heroes of the Napoleonic War. A massive pillared court, like the Parthenon in Athens, would contain a church, as well as catacombs for the burial of the country’s most significant leaders. By 1822 a foundation was laid, but by 1829, construction ground to a halt, due to insufficient funds. An effort to revive the project in the 1850s likewise failed. The city council eventually became the owners of the partially-finished monument, known as “Edinburgh’s Disgrace.” All that survives of the original grand plans are an immense foundation and twelve colossal Doric columns.

The Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City was never completed. One of the largest churches in the world, St. John’s is perched at the top of a flight of wide steps atop one of the highest hills in Manhattan. Standing in front of the massive building, you’ll notice a squat, square, unfinished tower on the south side, but no matching tower on the north. Initial work on the cathedral proceeded from 1892 but competing architectural visions slowed construction. Building efforts stalled entirely at the beginning of World War II and the congregation’s priorities shifted. They saw growing social needs in their community, like poverty, homelessness, and hunger, and they questioned whether they should continue to pour funds into construction. Work resumed in 1979 but stalled in 1997. Today, building efforts focus on preservation and basic improvements at a cost of about $11 million dollars a year. The cathedral is known by the nickname “St. John the Unfinished.”

Closer to home, Boldt Castle, located on Heart Island in the St. Lawrence, was never completed. In 1900, George Boldt, the proprietor of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, hired 300 laborers to construct a 120-room Rhineland-style castle for his beloved wife Louise. Four years after construction began, Louise suddenly died. The heartbroken husband abandoned the project and never set foot on the island again. For seventy-five years, the site sat abandoned and unfinished until in 1977 the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority acquired the property and opened it for visitors.

In our reading from Luke’s gospel, Jesus used hyperbole— a form of argument that embraces exaggeration—to make a point. Jesus cautioned his disciples about the cost of discipleship with dire-sounding words about family alienation, incomplete building projects, and unwinnable wars. The Lord was on his way to Jerusalem for that fateful final Passover. He was accompanied by large crowds of would-be disciples. The expectations of the crowd about what would go down in Jerusalem were radically different from what Jesus knew would unfold. The crowds thought they would have a ringside seat for healing miracles and earthshaking preaching. Many must have hoped that Jesus would bring change to the religious establishment ensconced in the Temple. Some were hoping for regime change, thinking that Jesus would be a militaristic Messiah, like the Maccabees, who could cast out their Roman overlords. No one wanted to hear that a cross awaited Jesus in Jerusalem. No one wanted to hear that crosses could await many who dared to follow the Lord.

All of Jesus’ apostles would know persecution and eleven of the twelve would face execution. James the Son of Zebedee would be the first, beheaded by the Romans in the year 44. Andrew was crucified on an x-shaped cross in the Greek city of Patras in the year 60. Peter was crucified upside down four years later during the persecution of Christians by the Emperor Nero. Jude was crucified in Persia. Thomas was run through with spears in India. Matthew was impaled and beheaded in Ethiopia. You see my point. The only apostle to die a natural death was John the Beloved, but he and his church were persecuted so harshly that they were forced to flee Israel for the far side of the Mediterranean in what is now western Turkey. Discipleship was costly, indeed, for Jesus’ followers.

It’s hard to know what to do with scripture readings like the one we have today. As first world Christians, not one of us is likely to be executed for our beliefs. Not one of us will be so persecuted for our love of Jesus that we will be forced to flee our homeland. Trey Clark, who teaches preaching at Fuller Seminary says that when we hear Jesus’ words about family alienation and impending oppression or victimization, we are more likely to say “Ouch” than “Amen.” So how do we make sense of it for people here and now?

The circumstances of our lives are very different from Jesus’ first century followers. Taking up our cross and losing our life for the sake of Jesus Christ may look more like death by a thousand paper cuts than a state sponsored execution. Losing our life for Christ involves recognizing that our true purpose and fulfillment are not found in worldly desires but in serving God and others. Authentic discipleship requires a willingness to deny ourselves and take up our cross daily. By embracing the Way of Jesus, we die to self, but we find true life and purpose. The Apostle Paul, who would lose his head for the sake of the gospel, put it this way, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” There are millions of everyday folks out there, like you and me, who may not have literally died for Jesus’s sake, but they show singular commitment and deep allegiance by following the Lord in costly ways. Jesus lives in them.

I would like to celebrate those thousand paper cuts, the everyday ways that I see people denying themselves and taking up their cross for the sake of the gospel. I’ll name just a few and you can respond with an “Amen!” or an “Ouch!”

We could spend our Sunday mornings paddling our canoe or hitting the trail, doing a home improvement project or having a second cup of coffee, but we choose to come to church and worship our awesome God, and we carry the cross.

We could spend our Wednesday evenings watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, but we make a joyful noise to the Lord with choir or meet with the deacons or come out for Committee Night, and we carry the cross.

In a world where income inequality is accepted, even as it grows and grows, we could ignore the need of our neighbors, but we share our food offerings and donate two cents a meal for hunger programs, we grow veggies in our Jubilee Garden to share at the Food Pantry and cook lunch for the Community Lunch Box, and we carry the cross.

Living in the remote beauty of the Adirondacks, we could close our eyes to the suffering and injustice of our world, but we advocate for the war weary people of Ukraine, and write letters for the starving children of Gaza, we accompany vulnerable refugees and support the widows and children of Mzuzu Malawi, and we carry the cross.

I could say more, but you see my point. We carry the cross. We die to self and live for Jesus, and when we follow the Lord, yielding our will to God’s will, Jesus lives in us.

Our deaths by a thousand paper cuts begin to build something. It isn’t the National Monument of Scotland, better known as Edinburgh’s disgrace. It isn’t the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, aka St. John the Unfinished. It isn’t even Boldt Castle, although New York State has poured millions of our tax dollars into making the castle an accessible tourist destination. Our deaths by a thousand papercuts build a world that looks like Christ’s Kingdom, where the stranger is welcomed, the hungry are fed, the sick and lonely are visited, and God is glorified. That’s a building project that I want to see through to completion. How about you?

Let’s pick up our crosses, my friends. There is building work to be done.

Resources

E. Trey Clark. “Commentary on Luke 14:25-33” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 7, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-23-3/commentary-on-luke-1425-33-6

Radhika Jhamaria. “15 Famous Unfinished Projects in Architectural History” in Rethinking the Future. Accessed online at https://www.re-thinkingthefuture.com/architects-lounge/a1289-15-famous-unfinished-projects-in-architectural-history-2/

Ellen Newman. “New York City’s St. John the Unfinished” in Hidden in Plain Sight, July 11, 2019. Accessed online at https://hidden-insite.com/2019/07/08/new-york-citys-st-john-the-unfinished/

Jenna Intersemone. “Massive Building Projects That Were Never Finished” in House Digest, Dec. 7, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.housedigest.com/663379/massive-building-projects-that-were-never-finished/ Edinburgh

Jack Wellman. “How Did the 12 Apostles Die?” in What Christians Want to Know. https://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/how-did-the-12-apostles-die-a-bible-study/

Luke 14:25-32

²⁵Now large crowds were traveling with him, and he turned and said to them, ²⁶“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. ²⁷Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. ²⁸For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? ²⁹Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, ³⁰saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ ³¹Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? ³²If he cannot, then while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace.

Not What You Expected

December 11, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Not What You Expected” Matthew 11:2-12

On a high bluff rising 3,500 feet above the surrounding desert, sixteen miles southeast of where the Jordan River empties into the Dead Sea, stood the hilltop fortress of Machaerus. In the year 40BC, Herod the Great saw the strategic importance of the site. From Machaerus, eastern invaders from Arabia could be easily spotted and signal fires ignited to warn fortifications to the west at Masada, Herodion, and Jerusalem. Herod built a lavish palace and fortified compound atop the bluff. A walled garden, elaborate Roman baths, ornate living quarters, two dining rooms, and carefully tiled mosaic floors were surrounded by massive stone walls with watch towers that soared ninety feet above the ramparts. Roman naturalist and philosopher Pliny the Elder described the stronghold as the most strongly fortified place in all of Judea, a statement supported by its name. Machaerus means “the sword” or “the edge of the knife.”

John the Baptist came to Machaerus as a prisoner. His prophecy of the coming Messiah and his criticism of the bigamy of the king’s wife had made him powerful enemies. At Machaerus, John was likely held captive in an empty cistern, an enormous underground vault cut from the bedrock and lined with plaster. Dark and windowless, the cistern would have been a miserable place to live in isolation. There John brooded on his thoughts and prophesied to the echoing walls. We know from scripture that the king feared John and the queen hated him. When Oscar Wilde wrote the libretto for the Opera Salome, he imagined the king peering into the dungeon, both fascinated and horrified by the prophet imprisoned within.

By the time John sent word to Jesus in our reading from Matthew’s gospel, the prophet had been imprisoned for two years. It was clear to John that, unless the king were overthrown, he would never walk out of Machaerus alive. Back when Jesus had come to him at the River Jordan, John was convicted that the Messiah had finally come. So certain was he that he refused at first to baptize Jesus, declining the honor on the basis that he was unworthy of the task (Matt. 3). But two years in Machaerus can change a man, begin to break him, and rattle his faith. Where was the fire and brimstone that John had imagined the Messiah would bring? Where was the conquering army that the Messiah would lead? Would the Messiah allow John, who had prepared the way of the Lord, to die in prison?

John the Baptist was not alone in his anticipation of a different kind of Messiah. Some sects of first century Judaism, like the Sadducees, didn’t believe in a Messiah at all. The Essenes at Qumran, on the other hand, believed there would be two Messiahs: one a military leader and the other a sage and teacher of the law. Most who looked for the Messiah agreed that the “coming one” would be a king like David. This warrior king would unite the Israelites, put an end to the foreign occupation, and usher in an era of peace, independence, and prosperity.

Jesus failed to meet the messianic expectations of John the Baptist, the Essenes, and pretty much everyone else. In the response that Jesus shared with John’s messengers, Jesus described the actions that the Prophet Isaiah said would be the sign of the coming Messiah (Isaiah 29, 35, 61). The ears of the deaf would be opened. The blind would see. Newfound mobility would come to the lame. The mute would speak. The brokenhearted would find comfort. And the poor would be blessed with good news. Instead of insisting on his messianic identity, Jesus urged John to simply take a look at what he was doing. In Jesus’s ministry, the long-promised work of the Messiah was already underway in compassionate acts of mercy, forgiveness, and love. “Consider the evidence,” Jesus was saying to John, “And please don’t be offended that I am not what you expected.”

We don’t need to be imprisoned in a mountaintop fortress like John, to feel that we need a Messiah. New Testament scholar Ronald J. Allen teaches that John the Baptist’s query, “Are you the one who is to come?” is the most important question of this Advent season. We all need a savior, but like our ancestors in the faith, our longings and expectations for “the one who is to come” may or may not be met by Jesus.

We want a Messiah who will ride in on a white horse and free us from the enmity and bitter division of our political landscape. We want a Messiah who will take away our grief and put a “don’t worry, be happy” smile upon our faces. We want a Messiah who will smite our enemies, reinforce our world view, and describe a God who is created in our own image. We want a Messiah who will fix our marriage for us, make our children behave, and give us a nice pay raise. We want a Messiah who will save us in the way we want, when we want it to happen, and that had better be sooner than later.

If the Messiah doesn’t give us what we want, we just may take offense. We say, “He’s not the real deal. God wouldn’t work in that way. God wouldn’t love those people. This so-called Messiah isn’t worth our prayers, our devotion, or our Sunday mornings.” The Messiah comes on his own terms, with compassion, healing, forgiveness, and love, but we would rather sit in the dark prison of our disappointed expectations.

We don’t know what happened when John’s disciples made the long journey back from Galilee to Machaerus and shared what Jesus had to say. I suspect that they shared with John not only the words that Jesus had spoken, but also the signs and wonders that they saw unfolding in Jesus’s ministry. They talked about the demon-possessed man in Capernaum who had found his right mind with Jesus’s help. They described the beautiful healed skin of the leper whom Jesus had touched. They shared the wisdom of the Sermon on the Mount and the exhortation to love God and neighbor. They shook their heads over the mystery of outsiders being welcomed, sinners forgiven, and fresh starts for hurting lives. There was so much good news, even if it wasn’t the message that John wanted to hear.

I like to think that when John was executed not long afterward, he was at peace. The gospels and the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus tell us that John was beheaded in the year 32, the year before Jesus would himself run afoul of Herod and Pilate and find himself in prison, facing execution. God had confounded all John’s expectations, but this Jesus, this unorthodox Messiah, was a sign that God’s Kingdom and power were always at work in the midst of this hurting and broken world. This unlikely Messiah and the improbable Kingdom would always grow within the kingdoms of the world, finding fresh expression wherever faithful people would follow the way of Jesus and commit to lives of mercy, compassion, and boundless love. On this Advent Sunday when we light the candle of joy, I like to imagine that Jesus’s assurance brought John quiet joy amid the darkness of Machaerus. I like to imagine that we too can find joy in that assurance, regardless of the trials of our lives and our world.

In the year 66CE, Herod’s kingdom fell when Jewish rebels revolted and seized the fortress of Machaerus. It took the Romans four years to put down the rebellion. In the year 70CE, they destroyed Jerusalem. Then, the Roman legion of Lucilius Bassus was assigned to exterminate the last rebel holdouts at Herodion, Massada, and Machaerus. The Romans arrived at the Edge of the Knife in the year 72CE, set up camp, and began to build an immense earthen ramp to accommodate their siege engines and breach the stronghold’s walls. When they saw the inevitability of their defeat, the rebels surrendered. They were allowed to leave and disappeared into the trans-Jordan wilderness and the mists of history. The Romans destroyed Machaerus, tearing down the impressive towers and stone walls, leaving behind only the dim outlines of its once mighty foundations.

The kingdoms of man rise and fall: Herod, the rebels, the Romans. Yet the Kingdom of God persists whenever we surrender our false expectations and follow the Messiah with mercy, compassion, and boundless love. Blessed are we when we do not take offense.

Resources:

Stanley Saunders. “Commentary on Matthew 11:2-12” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 11, 2022. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Ronald J. Allen. “Commentary on Matthew 11:2-12” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 11, 2016. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Arland Hultgren. “Commentary on Matthew 11:2-12” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 15, 2013. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

James Boyce. “Commentary on Matthew 11:2-12” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 16, 2007. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Markus Milligan. “Machaerus–The Palace Fortress of King Herod” in Heritage Daily, Dec. 28, 2020. Accessed online at https://www.heritagedaily.com/2020/12/machaerus-the-palace-fortress-of-king-herod/136596

Biblical Archaeology Society Staff. “Machaerus: Beyond the Beheading of John the Baptist” in Bible History Daily, June 28, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/biblical-sites-places/biblical-archaeology-sites/machaerus-beyond-the-beheading-of-john-the-baptist/

Saeb Rawashdeh. “Lost biblical fortress of Machaerus restored after 50 years of excavations” in The Jordan Times, March 14, 2019. Accessed online at http://www.jordantimes.com/news/local/lost-biblical-fortress-machaerus-restored-after-50-years-excavations

Pat McCarthy. “Machaerus” in See the Holy Land: Jordan. Accessed online at https://www.seetheholyland.net/machaerus/

Matthew 11:2-11

2When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” 4Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

7As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ 11Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

Joann White

writer, pastor, spiritual director, and enthusiast of wild places

Messianic expectations