Take Care
The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
August 10, 2025
Pastor Josh Evans
St. John’s Lutheran Church
Albany, NY
Three years ago,
I decided to shake things up in worship.
That summer, while I was still in my previous call,
I opted for the alternate set of first readings –
sometimes called the “semi-continuous” first readings
for the way they tell the same story from one week to the next,
sort of a like a biblical miniseries –
and I challenged myself to preach primarily on these Old Testament texts,
always read but too often neglected in Christian preaching.
The trouble is, as I soon learned…
it was Year C.
In Year A of the Revised Common Lectionary,
the semi-continuous Old Testament readings focus
on the major stories through the books of Genesis and Exodus,
and Year B moves into the story of King David –
all of which makes for compelling and engaging reading.
Then in Year C, we get…
the prophets.
Year C, I learned, is not the summer
to preach the semi-continuous Old Testament lessons.
Sure, the first few Sundays are great –
and I used them this year at St. John’s too:
beginning with the story
of Elijah’s mysterious encounter with God on Mount Horeb;
then the passing of the prophet’s mantle to his successor, Elisha;
and finally the miraculous healing of Naaman,
revealing the outpouring of God’s grace even to “outsiders.”
Then comes the “fun” part:
Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, Jeremiah, all in liturgical succession –
the prophets who don’t mince words
when it comes to God’s preferential option for the poor
and a reminder of God’s unending concern for justice
for the oppressed and marginalized.
All of which are good and important themes,
until it starts to feel like you’re preaching
the…same…thing…
over…and…over…
every…single…Sunday…
all…summer…long.
Meanwhile in the message of Jesus
in the gospels,
surely there’s a bit more thematic diversity, right?
Last week, although we didn’t hear a sermon on it,
we heard the story of “the rich fool,” as some Bibles title it,
who had so much stuff he didn’t know what to do with it all,
and so he built more barns, bigger barns, just to keep all his stuff in.
All of which came as a mini-parable in response to a request posed to Jesus:
“Tell my brother to divide the family inheritance [all our stuff] with me.”
In the parable, after storing up all his stuff, the rich man dies –
and what becomes of his stuff then?
The parable isn’t meant to be an indictment against having stuff per se,
but in the tradition of the prophets (aha!),
it’s meant to be a somewhat uncomfortable redirection of priorities.
Do we selfishly hoard our stuff?
Or do we use what we’ve been given as a part of God’s commonwealth,
caring for our neighbors in need
and recognizing with gratitude the source of all we have and are?
It’s almost like Jesus is a prophet himself…
Then today, continuing along in his teaching in Luke 12,
Jesus offers an assortment of encouragements and admonishments,
among them:
“Sell your possessions and give alms.”
And just before that, he reminds us:
“Do not worry! Consider the ravens and the lilies.
How much more will God care for you,
just as God cares for all creation?”
These teachings invite us to reconsider the meaning of abundance.
Not as stuff or wealth or money to be hoarded for ourselves alone,
as though there won’t be enough to share.
But with awe and gratitude
at how much there is to share and go around for all.
“Commonwealth is God’s commandment;
common goods are meant to share,”
as one hymnwriter puts it,
“Tables set and doors wide open
welcome angels unaware.” [1]
***
Which leads me to the Existential Question of the Day:
Do you ever wonder why we’re here?
Except…it’s really a practical, here-and-now question:
Why are we here?
Why do we come to church?
What is all this for?
I remember walking through the doors of my previous congregation
for the first time,
greeted by a tall rainbow-colored banner in the narthex:
Be the church.
Protect the environment.
Care for the poor.
Forgive often.
Reject racism.
Fight for the powerless.
Share resources.
Embrace diversity.
Love God.
Enjoy this life.
Surprisingly, there is nothing on that list about “going to worship.”
Not that that list is meant to be exhaustive,
or that worship isn’t important.
But truthfully: We’re already really good at worship.
It’s the part of being a church we often take for granted.
Instead – did you notice –
almost everything on that list
has to do with other people.
It’s almost like the whole point of being here
has to do not so much with ourselves
but those around us.
It’s almost like that’s Jesus’ point:
“Sell your possessions and give alms.”
Take care of each other.
Quite literally: Share the wealth.
Goodness knows we didn’t always live up to those ideals,
but their very presence on that banner was a helpful reminder:
This is why we’re here.
***
Central to our liturgy, but often overlooked is the offering –
maybe we should start passing the plates again –
the offering, described in our worship rubrics:
“gathered for the mission of the church,
including the care of those in need.” [2]
A practice not pulled from thin air,
but central even to the earliest days of the church,
as Justin Martyr, a 2nd century Christian theologian, famously describes:
“On the day named after the sun
all, whether they live in the city or the countryside,
are gathered together in unity…
bread is set out to eat,
together with wine and water.
The presider likewise offers up prayer and thanksgiving,
as much as [they] can,
and the people sing out their assent saying the amen.
There is a distribution of the things over which thanks have been said
and each person participates,
and these things are sent by the deacons to those who are not present.
Those who are prosperous and who desire to do so,
give what they wish, according to each one’s own choice,
and the collection is deposited with the presider,
[who] aids orphans and widows,
those who are in want through disease or through another cause,
those who are in prison,
and foreigners who are sojourning here.” [3]
This liturgy is justice focused,
ensuring the care of all,
and the equitable provision for the entire community,
those present and those absent.
“Sell your possessions and give alms.”
Take care of each other.
Christ calls us to be the church –
in all of what that means.
As the Spirit calls us here for worship,
around word and sacrament,
to be fed and nourished,
to be strengthened “to be Christ’s hands and heart in this world,”
so too the same Spirit sends us forth from this place
to take care of each other,
to seek justice and to proclaim God’s reign of love,
bearing witness to God’s amazing abundance for all.
[1] Mary Louise Bringle, “Commonwealth Is God’s Commandment,” in All Creation Sings (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2020), #1036.
[2] Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), p. 106. Emphasis mine.
[3] Quoted in Gordon W. Lathrop, The Pastor: A Spirituality (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011), 2.
