Reflection on Exodus 20:1-17
How then shall we live?
That’s a question that the ancient Israelites surely had as they wandered around in the wilderness after being freed from slavery in Egypt.
How then shall we live?
If you are feeling disoriented lately, confused and exhausted and unsure of where to plant your feet—just imagine how the Israelites were feeling. Sure, slavery in Egypt was awful. But they had homes. They had food. They knew what to expect. And now, they are in the wilderness. Their home is constantly moving. Their food appears mysteriously on the ground each morning—or from the sky. Water from a rock. They’re not sure where they are going or how they will get there or when they will get there or what they should do in the meantime.
We tend to read this passage, the “Ten Commandments,” as a list of rules that people have to follow. But in reality, they are a gift of guidance from God to people who are feeling lost. And I hope that we can receive these “commandments” in the same way–as gifts for us during a wilderness time; as something firm to hold on to when so much seems to be slipping through our fingers.
*You can read the full sermon here.
Reflection on Matthew 21:33-46

While this story Jesus tells is bloody and horrific, it should not be surprising. Fear and anger, often born of injustice, are a sure recipe for violence. In fact, there is a well-documented link between rising income inequality and rising violent crime rates in the United States.
It is likely that both fear and anger motivate the tenants to abuse the first slaves that are sent to collect the owner’s share of the vineyard produce. The tenants are angry that the owner, who has so much—who even owns slaves that he can send to do his dirty work for him—would demand an unreasonable portion of the grapes they have worked so hard to produce. They are afraid that after the owner takes his share there will not be enough left for them to live on.
Violence seems to them the only way to protect themselves from exploitation. And once they have abused the first slaves, it’s just that much easier to enact violence when the next group comes to collect the owner’s produce. Violence becomes a pattern for the tenants. It’s just what they do; it’s how they relate to the slaves of the owner.
The owner, of course, continues to send slaves—human beings that he owns—to these tenants, knowing full well that the slaves will be beaten and possibly killed on this errand. Finally, though, the game is up. The owner is running low on human collateral and decides it is time to collect. He sends his son because surely the tenants will know that the consequences of killing a member of the elite are far more dire than those of killing mere slaves. But the tenants throw the son out of the vineyard and kill him.
This is a true tragedy. It reminds me of Hamlet—bodies strewn all over the stage. Needless death. A hopeless situation.
Except that I find a glimmer of hope here—just a glimmer. The hope is in Jesus’ question: “What then will the owner of the vineyard do?”
*You can read the full sermon here.