Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A, "Good Trouble," Exodus 1:8-20 (Proper 16, Ordinary 21)

Sermon 8/23/2026 

Exodus 1:8-20

Good Trouble

8 Now a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph. 9 He said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we. 10 Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” 11 Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. 12 But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. 13 The Egyptians subjected the Israelites to hard servitude 14 and made their lives bitter with hard servitude in mortar and bricks and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them.

15 The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, 16 “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, kill him, but if it is a daughter, she shall live.” 17 But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. 18 So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this and allowed the boys to live?” 19 The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women, for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” 20 So God dealt well with the midwives, and the people multiplied and became very strong.

The book of Exodus quickly brings us to troubling words, just a few verses in to the very first chapter. “Now a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph.” Someone doesn’t remember the nation’s history, and it immediately sets the stage for oppression and mistreatment. That’s an unfortunately familiar story, and it is one that is as ancient as the Bible. The “Joseph” this text speaks about is the “Joseph” of coat-of-many-colors fame, whose story we find in the last several chapters of the book of Genesis. He was a favorite child of his father, Jacob, and his jealous brothers had him sold into enslavement and faked his death. But Joseph was smart and clever, and he had a gift for interpreting dreams - well, the dreams of others. He wasn’t so good at understanding his own dreams. His gift led him to become a major asset to the Pharaoh, the King of Egypt, as Joseph helped Egypt, and his brothers and the emerging Hebrew people along with them, avoid starvation during a years-long famine. Joseph was a hero to the Egyptians and to the Hebrews. 

And so when we hear that a new leader in Egypt doesn’t remember any of this history, we know that there will be consequences, and we see that very quickly in our reading for today. The new king observes that over the years, the Hebrews who moved to Egypt were growing in number. And he thinks ahead, calculating, and fearing the day when there will be more Hebrews than Egyptians. When this happens, worries the Pharaoh, surely the Hebrews will join with the Egyptians’ enemies to overthrow them and take the land for themselves. If this sounds to you like the Great Replacement Theory, an ideology of the ultra-far right that suggests that immigrants and minorities are intentionally trying to replace and eliminate white people in Europe and the US, you’re right. It is basically the same fear the Pharaoh expresses, millennia earlier, fueled by the same fear of the “other.” 

So, even though we hear of no such colluding on the part of the Hebrews to work to overthrow the Egyptians, the king decides to enslave all of the Hebrews into forced labor, making the lives of the Hebrews bitter and hard. Yet, this does nothing to reduce the burgeoning population of Hebrews. So the Pharaoh goes a step further. He orders Shiphrah and Puah - two Egyptian women who act as midwives to Hebrew mothers - he orders them to kill any baby boys who are born.

Shiphrah and Puah, though, do not comply, do not follow orders. Exodus tells us that they “feared God,” a description for non-Jewish people who respect or connect with the God os Judaism - they are words that are an expression of a person’s faith. And they let the boys live. When Pharaoh confronts them, they lie. They tell him that the Hebrew women simply give birth too quickly, already giving birth before the midwives arrive. Their actions save lives. Indeed, after this passage we see that a baby boy, allowed to live, and eventually adopted by Pharaoh’s own daughter, is Moses - the very child who will become the leader who leads his people to freedom.  

The Pharaoh says that he’s trying to be shrewd - showing cleverness, practical smarts. But he’s really just cruel. It’s Shiphrah and Puah who are shrewd. They know what the Pharaoh is doing is cruel and wrong. And maybe they don’t feel they have the power to speak up and risk a direct confrontation with him. But instead, they assess the power that they do have, and they use their situation to the best of their ability. They don’t see themselves as helpless. They’re aware of how they can wield their positions, and they do it. They take a risk. And maybe because they’re women, or they’re working with enslaved people, or other reasons - no one double checks what they’re doing. They’re discounted. And they change everything because of their daring. 

It can be scary, trying to resist oppression and injustice. Unfortunately, those who seek to oppress and belittle often have incredible resources of money and position on their side. It can feel like pushing back, resisting, is nearly impossible. And yet, our history, too quickly forgotten, gives us stories like Shiphrah and Puah’s, and more recent stories too. When I was reading over the text this week, what came to mind was the phrase “good trouble.” You might know a little of this history: Civil rights leader and longtime congressman from Georgia, the late John Lewis was the chair of the student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, or SNCC, during the 1960s. Lewis is remembered for a life of activism, often putting himself directly in the way of danger. In 1965, for example, Lewis and others marched from Selma, Alabama and attempted to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge, protesting against the police brutality against civil rights protesters. As Lewis and others tried to cross the bridge, state troopers attacked the marchers, leaving several, like Lewis, bloodied and beaten, an event eventually known as Bloody Sunday. 

Reflecting on his life’s work across various occasions, Lewis focused on the phrase, “Good Trouble.” At a commencement speech in 2014 at Emory University, he told graduates, ““You must find a way to get in the way. You must find a way to get in trouble. Good trouble. Necessary trouble. Use your education . . . use what you have, use your learning, use your tools, to help make our country and make our world a better place where no one will be left out or left behind. You can do it and you must do it. It is your time.” Just months before his death, at a commemoration of the Bloody Sunday events, he said, “I want to see young people in America feel the spirit of the 1960s and find a way to get in the way. To find a way to get in trouble. Good trouble, necessary trouble and redeem the soul of America.” 

These words really resonate with me: “Use your education . . . use what you have, use your learning, use your tools, to help make our country and make our world a better place where no one will be left out or left behind. You can do it and you must do it. It is your time.” Maybe we’re not like Moses, who took on the Pharaoh directly and led a whole people to freedom - although Moses also didn’t think he was Moses - didn’t think he could do what he did! - but we can all make good trouble in the face of injustice, even if we operate like Shiphrah and Puah. They knew what they did have the power to do, they used what they had, rather than dwelling on what was out of their control. They took action. And they saved lives. 

What can we do? Very recently, an issue came to my attention where I could see the opportunity for justice and reconciliation to take place, for reparations for past harm to come to fruition. I don’t mean to be vague, it’s only that the situation is still unfolding. What’s more important than the specifics today is how I responded, and how I wanted to respond. In this situation, where I saw what might be done to bring about justice, my impulse, my first action, was to tell my idea to some other people because I hoped they would do something about it. I wanted to hand it off, the concern I had, and let some others do the hard work. And they did give me advice, but they put the ball firmly back in my court. I’m trying hard not to make excuses for myself to not follow through, to convince myself I can’t make a difference before I’ve even begun to really try. I’m trying to remember the gifts and abilities and experience I have at my disposal to act for justice. I hope I can be brave and persistent, and make some good trouble. 

What good trouble can you stir up? Friends, in a world that seems doomed to ever forget its own history, oppression and injustice bubble up in new and insidious ways. Part of Christian witness is calling each other into remembrance - when we read the scriptures, when we sing the songs of faith, when we remember God’s acts of grace as we share in sacraments together. Remembering our history is part of our witness. And then, inspired by the stories of the good troublemakers, the saints of God who have gone before us, using whatever gifts God had given them, we go forth to join the struggle. Will we take all that we have, all that God has given us, and use it for some good trouble? Let us say yes, with God’s help, we will.

Amen.   

Sermon for Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A, "Out of Egypt: First Annual Exodus," Exodus 12:1-14

Sermon 9/7/14

Exodus 12:1-8

Out of Egypt: First Annual Exodus

I went to seminary at Drew Theological School in Madison, New Jersey. Drew is a University, so aside from the theological school, there was also a graduate school and an undergraduate school. My first year on campus, I saw signs for an undergraduate event called “The First Annual Picnic.” I didn’t think much of it, until I heard people talking about how much they always looked forward to “The First Annual Picnic.” What? Turns out, the event was always called The First Annual Picnic, even though it had been happening for many years. I don’t know if it started out that way – if they intended from the start to create a new event, or what. I've certainly known that to happen in church events – you try something one year with an unspoken understanding that if it goes well, you will do it again, year after year.

I couldn’t help but think of The First Annual Picnic as I read this week’s scripture text. Today, after spending the summer in the gospel of Matthew, we’re shifting gears and heading into the Old Testament. In particular, we’ll spend the next few weeks journeying with the Israelites as Moses leads them out of Egypt, an event known as the Exodus. It’s a word that means literally: the road out, and that’s why the second book of the Bible is so named – it’s the story of the journey of the Israelites as they literally and figuratively leave the life they knew as slaves in Egypt and head, eventually, for the Promised Land.

You may be familiar with the story of the Exodus – although you might have more images stuck in your mind from the Charlton Heston movie then from reading the actual text. The Israelites are slaves in Egypt. They ended up in this circumstance because Joseph, son of Jacob, son of Isaac, son of Abraham – Joseph made a deal with the Pharaoh to feed his family, his elevenbrothers who would be the starting points of the tribes of Israel – when Israel suffered a great famine. But eventually a Pharaoh arose in Egypt who didn’t remember Joseph, and the Israelites became poorly treated slaves, rather than friends rescued from starvation. The Pharaoh treats the people harshly, eventually ordering death of Israelite male newborns, lest the Israelites increase in number and power and overthrow their captors. God calls Moses to speak to Pharaoh and persuade Pharaoh to free the Israelites. Pharaoh, of course, will not agree to do any such thing, even after a series of plagues. Finally, God tells Moses there will be a plague killing the firstborn of all the Egyptian households. But God will spare the Israelite families, passing over their homes. Then, the Israelites will flee to safety across the Red Sea.

It is this Passover – the passing over of the home of the Israelites, this plague of the first-born sons – that our text for today describes. God tells Moses how each household should prepare for this first Passover, describing the meal they should prepare, a meal meant to be prepared and eaten with haste, with bags packed and shoes on and staff in hand, and ready to go. But blood on the doorposts and lintel from the lamb eaten for dinner will be the sign for God to Passover that home, keeping the firstborn safe. And then the passage concludes with “This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.” In other words, right from the start, before the first Passover takes place, God lets the people know that this will be an annual event. It’s the First Annual – and God already knows this action, this event, will be so important to the identity of the Israelites that they must remember it every year.  

            Indeed, the Passover is a significant event for the Israelites. It’s significant in Jesus’s life, and he makes it significant to us when, long after this first Passover, Jesus uses a celebration of Passover, an anniversary Passover just like God promises there will be, to share what we know now as the Last Supper – the first celebration of what has become Holy Communion for us. But as significant as it is, I’m also mindful of what a hard story this is too. Regardless of the hardness of Pharaoh’s heart, and the enslavement of the Israelites, a story where firstborn children are killed – Israelite or Egyptian – and where God is guiding the action – is hard to reconcile with the God of love we talk about so often. I wish we could spend more time on that now. This is something we’ll be talking about in our Wednesday night Bible Study in the weeks ahead. But for now, for today, let me try to point you to what I think are the key parts of our text. Why is God so sure already that the people will need to celebrate Passover again and again? Why will they need to remind themselves of this day, the day they left Egypt and slavery? Was there a chance they could ever forget such a significant event?

            As we think about this text and our own lives, I think there are two key points here. First, we have to know why we’re leaving Egypt, and second, once we leave, we have to remember why we left. That might sound pretty simple. And it is – simple to say. But the story of Exodus that we’ll follow this month will remind us that it is apparently quite difficult to do. The Israelites left Egypt because they had become slaves. They left because their living conditions were worsening. They were facing abuse and oppression and loss of life. I hope that our own situations are not so dire. But in these weeks that we think about what it means for God to call us out of Egypt, I do want us to seriously examine our lives and ask ourselves what we need to leave behind. What are the situations in our lives that are not life-giving? What about our lives is in conflict with what God hopes and dreams for us? What in your life is preventing you from responding with your whole heart to God’s call? These are the reasons God calls us from Egypt. Whatever keeps us from experiencing God’s abundance, and whatever keeps us from offering our whole selves to God – these are the reasons why we risk a journey into the unknown. That’s point one. Know why we’re leaving Egypt. What we’re leaving. Do you remember point two?

            Point two is: remember point one! Remember what we’re leaving and why we’re leaving. This is why God institutes a First Annual Remembrance of the Passover and Exodus before it has even happened the first time. God, who created us and loves us also knows how prone to forgetting even the most important things we are. The farther we journey from what Egypt means to us, the harder it will be to remember how much Egypt kept us from experiencing the life God wants for us. That’s what happens with the Israelites, as we’ll see in the next weeks. Think about it. This week is the thirteenth anniversary of the horrific tragedy of 9/11. How could we forget? And yet, I work with our conference youth, and my oldest youth, those who are seniors this year, were four or five years old when 9/11 happened. They don’t remember! And my youth who are just starting middle school – they weren’t born yet on 9/11. So this huge event that shapes our national identity still in significant ways – people who are now becoming legal adults – they already don’t remember. The farther we journey from Egypt, the less we remember why it was important to leave the things that were keeping us from drawing closer to God.

            And so, before the Israelites even leave Egypt, God sets them up with a plan to remember. Remember always that they were once slaves in Egypt, oppressed and abused, and that God led them to freedom. Remember that they had the courage, once, to follow, and to leave behind what was awful, but still known and so, in a way, comfortable. God starts them out with a way to remember. Of course, this shouldn’t surprise us. God is trying to help us in our discipleship all the time with ways to remember. With a rainbow in the sky. With the waters of baptism and renewal. With the bread and cup we will share today, remembering Jesus calling us to remember!

            God is calling us, even now, to leave Egypt, to leave our crutches, our addictions, our struggles, our excuses, our grudges, our settling for less than the Promised Land. I want you to think hard, in the weeks ahead, about what it is that you need to leave behind in Egypt. And even as you recognize what’s keeping you from offering your whole heart to God, plan to remember. Today we gather at the table: the table of forgiveness, the table of invitation, the table of reconciliation, the table of hope and life, the table of remembrance. We remember the whole story of God and God’s people. We remember the Passover. We remember Jesus transforming this meal into an offering of his life poured out for us. We listen for God’s call. We prepare for a new journey. We acknowledge what God is asking us to leave behind. Christ invites us to leave it there. And when we gather at the table again, we’ll remember. Amen.

Sermon for Pentecost 13A, “God Values: Forgiveness”

Sermon 9/11/11

Matthew 18:21-35

God Values: Forgiveness

            Where were you when it happened? That is a question you might have been asked this week. Where were you on 9-11-01 when you head the news? I was in seminary. I had just started my internship at our United Methodist interfaith agency, located in the Upper West Side of Manhattan – I worked on Mondays and Fridays, and had put in just two days before September 11^th. I was feeling pretty brave about going to work in the big city, riding the trains and the subway, being part of the commuter crowd. Thankfully, I was not in Manhattan on 9-11. I had been the day before.

            On the morning of the 11^th, I, not surprisingly to those of you who know me well, was still asleep when the first plane hit the towers. Soon after, I was up and at the bookstore, when I heard a radio report saying something about a plane and a building, but I didn’t pay it much attention. I then went to the library, where I overheard a woman telling a work-study student that it was ok if he didn’t feel like working that day. And I couldn’t log onto cnn.com on the computers. But I still didn’t know what was happening. It wasn’t until I made my way to Seminary Hall, and began talking with other students, that I realized exactly what was happening. And so eventually the fear set in, the sadness, the anxiety. In the coming weeks, I found it hard to get over my fear of going back to the city for work, hard to relax on public transportation, hard to operate through fire drills at my office building there. And I found it hard to watch how we reacted as a nation, and as a world community to these events, how quickly the climate of the world changed. Today you’ll still hear the phrase, “in a post 9-11 world . . . ʺ

Into the midst of this day, ten years later, our lectionary, our schedule of scriptures, brings us a passage about forgiveness, and it is hard for me not to marvel at the mystery of how God is at work even in which Bible text we are meant to read when. It is certainly no mistake. Our passage from Matthew today comes in the middle of a series of teachings from Jesus. The disciples have asked Jesus some questions, and he has responded, teaching about not being stumbling blocks for one another, talking about it being better to enter God's kingdom without a foot or hand rather than to stumble and stray because of it. He speaks about conflict in the community, recommending a course of action if someone has sinned against you. And then, perhaps in response to this teaching, Peter asks Jesus: ʺLord, if another member of the faith community sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?ʺ Now, the way Peter asks his question gives you an idea that he thinks he is being pretty broad in his suggested response. As many as seven times? Peter asks and lets Jesus know he thinks seven times is a lot. See, Peter is learning, even though he stumbles. He is learning from Jesus and has learned that Jesus is pretty extravagant sometimes – not when it comes to having things and possessions and money. But extravagant about his relationships with others. Jesus is pretty extravagant with his compassion, justice, and mercy. Always going farther than anyone else was prepared to go. Peter, I suspect, thinks he will impress Jesus, by saying he suspects you might need to forgive someone up to seven times if they sin against you! Seven times!

             Jesus replies, “Nice try, Peter. Try seventy seven times. Seventy seven.” In other words, stop counting how many times you have forgiven, and then you are on the right track. And then Jesus tells a parable, about the kingdom of heaven, saying, “It’s like this. A king wanted to settle his debts. He called forward a slave who owed him 10,000 talents. The slave could not pay, so the king prepared to sell the slave, his family, and his possessions to make the payment. But the slave begged for mercy and patience, promising to pay. The king had mercy and cancelled the entire debt and released the slave, beyond what the slave asked for. But later, the same slave encounters a peer who owes him a small sum of money, a hundred denarii. He violently demands payment, and when his peer can’t pay, and begs for mercy, the slave denies him mercy, and has him thrown in prison. When the king finds out about it, he calls the slave before him. ‘How could you not show mercy to your fellow slave, as I showed you mercy?’ Finally, the king hands the slave over and requires payment for the debt.” Jesus concludes, saying that this is how it will be with us if we do not forgive one another.

            When we say the Lord's prayer here at First United, we say, ʺforgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.ʺ We say it that way in particular to honor our Presbyterian heritage, as we honor our  Methodist history in other ways, like through our hymnal choice. I grew up saying trespass and trespasses in the Lord's Prayer, and it took me a while to get the hang of saying debts and debtors, especially when I am still often at conference events that require me to switch back to trespasses! But I have to tell you, having to remember where I am and which words I am supposed to say each time I pray the prayer has helped me to think about it more deeply when I pray, instead of running quickly through familiar words. I have to really think about what I am saying every time. And what am I saying? Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

            There has certainly been enough talk about debt, lately, hasn’t there? We know a little more about national debt and debt ceilings and all that than most of us probably ever knew before. Or at least we've worried about it more than usual. But the debt we are probably most familiar with is our own. Who are you in debt to? And is anyone in debt to you? We probably know that pretty well too. But think particularly about to whom you are in debt – who do you owe? Most of us, unless we are extraordinarily lucky, are in debt to someone financially. Student loans – I am pretty sure I will have those until I am too old to remember what I even studied in college. Car payments, or mortgage payments. Credit cards. Taxes. Utility bills. Rent. To whom are you in debt, and for what? And then, imagine, imagine that your creditor, whoever you owe simply cancels your debt. Not that you suddenly have so much money you can pay off everything you owe. No, but imagine that your debt is just gone, cancelled. What does that feel like? Can you feel the weight that is lifted? The anxiety, the stress, the worry that would be just gone. No more burden.

How often should I forgive? Cancel someone's debts? Forgiveness is a tricky thing, isn’t it? We’re willing to go only so far before we start wanting to know about limits – how much, how often, who must we forgive and in what circumstances? Today’s world demands answers to these questions. Can we forgive even when forgiveness entails life and death situations? Do you believe such extreme forgiveness is possible? What shapes will forgiveness take when we think of the tragedy of September 11^th? And all these questions about human forgiveness lead us to God’s forgiveness. Can God forgive us? Does God forgive all sins from all sinners? What are the conditions of forgiveness? Are there conditions? Are there conditions to God canceling the debt of our sinfulness? Our believing in the possibility of forgiveness works both ways. If we believe that human forgiveness is possible, then forgiveness from God is certain. And in order for us to believe that we are truly forgiven and reconciled people, truly forgiven by God and given the chance, again, for right relationship with God, then we must also believe in the possibility of human forgiveness, reconciliation in human relationships.

            How should we forgive? Let me say briefly but clearly what I don’t think Jesus is saying here about forgiveness. His call for our compassion and bottomless forgiveness is not a call for people to remain trapped in abusive relationships, or a call for victims of violence to remain victims of violence. God wants wholeness for all of us. Forgiveness comes in the simple and complicated form of canceling the debt of wrong-doing done against us, letting go of what is owed to us by another.

            But let me tell you what else I really don’t think Jesus is talking about. Jesus isn’t really addressing his teaching to those who need to ask for forgiveness. This passage isn’t about, primarily, those who are sinners (although that is really all of us, mind you), those who stand in need of forgiveness (again, all of us, really.) Jesus has lots to say about our sinners and how we sin, but this isn’t it. This passage is about those of us who feel someone owes us something, those of us who feel someone is in our debt, those of us who feel someone needs to seek out our forgiveness. Peter wants to know how much forgiveness he has to pay out. That is what prompts Jesusʹ teaching. Ultimately, we can only be responsible for our own actions. You can only decide whether or not you will forgive. You can’t control whether or not someone feels sorry for wronging you, whether they have done enough to make up for hurting you, or even how they will behave in the future, if they really mean their apology, if they will hurt you again or not. Jesus doesn’t really make comment on any of these questions. Because you can only choose how you will behave when someone is in your debt. How often do we forgive? Seven times? Seventy-seven times. Jesus is calling us to forgive like he does, like God does – extravagantly, recklessly, without counting up the cost and how much we were owed and how much debt we cancelled.

            In these next few weeks, we are looking at what I have been thinking of as God-values. God has a way of taking our values and turning them inside out and showing us how much we have missed the mark, how much richer our lives would be if we could begin to see and act with God's eyes and heart. I think we look at someone owing us a debt, and we think of that as power – when we are owed something, it gives us a sense of power over, even if we have that power because we have been wronged. But Jesus finds power, strength, life in letting go of one kind of power to take up another. Jesus, instead of trying to show off his strength, always makes himself more vulnerable. Even on the cross, dying, at his most vulnerable, Jesus exposes his heart to the world even more, speaking of forgiveness even as he is put to death. There is a different, deeper kind of strength and power in laying our hearts bear, emptying our souls of the resentment we feel toward those who have harmed us. Forgiveness is a God-value, a gift from God to us, and a gift that continues to bless us when we share it with others.

We’re given a reminder, even as we pray familiar words: God, forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. God asks for us to share with others the same forgiveness with which God blesses us. Is it easy work? No. Like Peter, we want to know – have we done enough yet? But God promises us that practicing forgiveness is life-giving, where withholding forgiveness only hurts us. There is much in this world to forgive. There is much for which we seek forgiveness. So we struggle, we try harder, both in forgiving those who have sinned against us, and in asking forgiveness where we have caused harm. But wherever we find ourselves in our struggles, we can trust that we find ourselves free of debt, completely covered by God’s boundless forgiveness. Let us go, and live likewise. Amen.