Sermon for June 21, 2026

June 21, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott




Matthew 10:24-39



How is this year’s liberation season going for each of you?


You might be scratching your head, wondering what liturgical season I’m referring to and why haven’t we changed the paraments. Alternately, you might be feeling the first tingle of exasperation as you say, “I came to church to get away from talk of divisive holidays.” Maybe you’re saying, “If she’s wants to preach about Juneteenth, she should have done that last Sunday, and then we could have used that prayer petition that talked about Juneteenth.”


Summer brings us a stretch of holidays that gives us occasion to consider liberation, from June 6, which commemorates a major turning point in World War II, to Juneteenth, to July 4. We could take a more global approach: we could celebrate Bastille Day on July 14, when political prisoners were released, and France began to move toward democratic government.


Being honest about liberation season would mean including some non-joyful remembrances, like the Tiananmen Square massacre, which happened in early June of 1989, where unarmed students and workers were killed for demanding that the Chinese government change and abandon its policies that violated human rights. That government slaughtered them, with cameras rolling, rather than give them more liberty.


We must resist the temptation to see some liberation movements as ordained by God when they’re successful, and some as not favored by God—that risks us believing that God favors some nations and peoples above others, based on very human metrics. But if you read the Bible straight through, one theme is always there: God desires freedom from tyranny—all sorts of tyranny—for all of creation.


The approach of celebrating the human fight against tyranny might seem to be in line with the first part of today’s Gospel, where Jesus seems to be offering an egalitarian future, where no one is above anyone else. But go back and read the actual words, and keep in mind this is one of the verses that has historically been used to support slavery: “A disciple is not above the teacher nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher and the slave like the master.”


The use of this passage to justify slavery and other types of bondage is not the only troubling part of today’s Gospel. Make no mistake, Jesus isn’t necessarily commanding us to rise up and overthrow our government or to wage war, in the way that some of our summer holidays celebrate, but Jesus is clear-eyed about what happens when humans say yes to our God of liberation:


"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and one's foes will be members of one's own household.”


In the past 10 years, regardless of political affiliation, almost everyone I’ve talked to has had such severe political disagreements with at least one friend or family member, or more, that they’re no longer on speaking terms. We see first-hand the dynamic that Jesus describes.


Some of these political differences have been taken to extremes. An honest celebration of Liberation season might include those, as a reminder of what can happen when not everyone embraces the idea of liberty for all.


We might include remembrances of the slaughter of people partying at the Pulse nightclub in 2016, or the 9 people killed 10 years ago at Mother Emanuel church in Charleston by a young man hoping to start a race war. Sadly, this list could go on and on.


Being honest about liberation also means being honest about the other ways that the desire for liberation can be manipulated by unscrupulous rulers. Juneteenth is our latest federal holiday, but we didn’t come to have it without a fight, just like the Martin Luther King holiday before it. But even holidays that seem more straight forward, like July 4, can show how divided we are as a nation when we can’t agree on what the events of 1776 mean.


Of course, the people experiencing the events were themselves divided—I highly recommend the Ken Burns’ documentary on the 1776 Revolution, which explores the divisions between those who supported the colonists who wanted to break away from England and those who were loyal to the crown—divisions within families, as well as the larger political divisions.


Even if we go back to the liberation anniversaries that seem straight forward, we find that wars won often led to further battles. At the end of the 1776 revolution, many of the people living in the U.S. were not free. The news of emancipation that we celebrate on Juneteenth did not leave freed slaves economically better off, especially not in that first generation when so many experienced a different kind of slavery in sharecropping. Sure, they could leave and many of them did, only to be worked to death in northern factories. Soldiers who survived the invasion of Normandy went on to fight additional battles before Hitler surrendered, and of course, the war in the Pacific was far from over on June 6, 1944.


Again and again, Jesus calls us back to the truth that will set us free—truly free. The idea of liberation can be terrifying, particularly for those of us who have seen how things can go wrong and how one person’s liberation can have unforeseen consequences, like a divorce that leaves everyone in a more precarious position with family members pitted against each other.


Paul’s letter reminds us that we are not abandoned. God’s liberation leads to resurrection. And in the middle of today’s Gospel, Jesus, too, tells us not to be afraid, in a much loved passage: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. 31 So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.”


Today’s Gospel ends with the assurance that the efforts we make for God will not be in vain: “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Freedom!


Theologians from Paul onward have reminded us that God comes to set us free, and we’re set free so that we can unbind others from what holds them enslaved. Our liberation holidays celebrate the human yearning for freedom and liberty. It’s a yearning that’s yet to be fully realized, even if we think we’re done. We’re all in need of liberation, to be free from the forces that would enslave us, the powers and principalities that want us to be held in the chains of addictions or debts or anger or racism or inequality or violence—the list of evil forces in the world is long.


As we move through this season of liberation holidays, let us remember that we are resurrection people free from our chains even if we’re slow to understand how free we are.


Let us move forward in faith, developing a new liberation for this time, trusting in God’s promise that the forces of hatred, oppression, and slavery, all the powers and principalities that have caused so much destruction and death—these forces do not get to have the final word. God has the final word, and God’s word always leads to liberty and freedom and flourishing.

TEEM Work and Other Anxieties

It has been a strange week in terms of home renovations.  We're at a point where it makes sense to wait until the work of next week is done.  Hopefully by this time next week, we'll have an HVAC system installed and the house rewired.  Then we'll do the painting and the hardwood floor restoration.

It feels weird knowing how much work needs to be done, but not doing it.  Of course, I have plenty of other work to be doing, primarily grading and encouraging students.

In a way, it has been a good week to be pulling back on fixer-upper tasks.  I've gotten information about the next part of my path to ordination.  I will take three classes through the TEEM program, and the first class is next week.

The TEEM program has 3 onground intensives a year where participants gather in Indianapolis and take 2 classes, one on Monday-Tuesday and one on Thursday-Friday, along with a workshop on Wednesday.  I will be taking the Thursday-Friday class on Paul's letters next week.  I'm happy to be able to patch up some holes in my knowledge; I had wanted to take a seminary class on Paul, but it never worked out.

I needed this week to order books and get started on the reading.  I had missed the deadline to get the discounted hotel price, but happily, when I called, I was able to get that price. 

It's been an up and down week in terms of anxiety.  When I'm at the house in Spartanburg, I feel that we made a good decision.  When I'm not there, there's a bit more self-doubt rattling in my brain.  I've never driven to Indianapolis from here, so I feel a bit of anxiety in terms of a car trip, while reminding myself that I have relatives along the way who could help me if need be.  I'm headed there by myself, because my spouse needs to be here to oversee the HVAC installation and rewiring.  I'm looking forward to being away, but also a bit anxious at the thought of all the new people I'll meet.  I feel a bit of anxiety at the thought of all the money we're spending on home repair--if it goes well, I'll be glad we spent the money. 

I have some course work to do besides showing up for class next week.  There's reading to do, and a movie about Paul to watch, which I've done, and a review of the movie to write, which I haven't, but will soon.

But it's nice to feel I have time to do that work.  The last time I was getting ready to go to an onground intensive, it was October of 2024, and we were still dealing with Hurricane Helene aftermaths.  I'm sure there's some residual anxiety that my body is dredging up.

Hopefully, in a week or two, I'll be able to look back on this anxiety and smile because all the moving parts came together so well.

Liberation Holidays: Juneteenth

Today we celebrate our newest federal holiday:  Juneteenth.  Of course, many populations have been celebrating Juneteenth since the news of freedom first came to the last enslaved people in Texas in 1865.  This is the first year that I've been in a workplace that recognized the holiday.  In 2021, I was working for a small school that was very stingy with holidays, so we didn't have that holiday or MLK day or Presidents Day.

In 2022, I was no longer working for that school.  I was driving back across several states, coming back to Florida from the onground intensive at Southern Seminary.  I was already a certified spiritual director through their program, but I went back to take advantage of the education, to have a reunion with my small group, and to see a friend graduate from the program.  Two weeks later I would turn around to drive back up to Arden to buy the house that I'm writing in this morning.  So far, I have never regretted that purchase, which is not usual for me when it comes to housing or moves or jobs.

Or maybe it is becoming usual.  I don't have regrets about the spiritual direction certificate or my MDiv.  My main regret about my job at SMC is that I didn't have it sooner.  I love this house in a way that I haven't loved any other house.  Maybe my lack of regret is a pleasant part of being in late midlife.

I am tempted to tie these ideas back to Juneteenth, but I don't want to trivialize the holiday or the history.  While regret can enslave us, it's a very different enslavement than other forces and humans that enslave.

Wat are the forces enslaving so many of us? We think of iron shackles, but there are other societal constructs that hold so many back: debt, geopolitical forces, violence, educational systems.  And let's not forget that literal slavery hasn't disappeared. 

So on this Juneteenth, let us think about the captives who need our help to be set free. Let us also think about all the captivity narratives that hold us enslaved. Let us embrace liberation narratives. Let us envision what life would look like if all were truly free.

The Rethinking of Mary Magdalene Gets Wider Acceptance

I have been listening to a fascinating interview between Diana Butler Bass and Elizabeth Schrader-Polczer.  Several years ago, Bass preached a sermon using Schrader-Polczer's work, which Bass points out is one of 3 of the most watched sermons of all time; the other two were Bishop Budde's sermon at the interfaith worship service after the second inauguration of Donald Trump and the sermon preached at the wedding of Prince Harry and Mary Markle.

In that sermon, Bass presented the work of Elizabeth Schrader-Polczer, who was then a PhD student at Duke.  She did research on the Lazarus text and noticed that the word Mary had been changed to Martha.  Why would someone do this?  And how can we be sure?  

Bass published her sermon here.  It's worth the read, and it's got a link to hear the sermon.  Bass makes the case that it was likely a 4th century change, a change to disempower Mary Magdalene.

In the interview I'm listening to today, Bass and Schrader-Polzer review those ideas.  It's an interesting window into how research on ancient texts is done, and how this work was done.  It's got great information about issues of gender, along with church history.

Here are some highlights:

--At minute 28, they talk about the canon--which books made it into the Bible, which did not, and why.  Schrader-Polzer posits that the approach to Mary Magdalene, the changes made in the Gospel of John, might have happened in the 2nd century so that the book would be seen as more acceptable, so that it would survive. 

--In the oldest artwork, whenever there's a Lazarus, there's only one sister.

--Throughout the interview, there's lots of great information about translations of the Bible and how we come to have the Bible that we do.

--It is fascinating to me that there are changes to Bible commentaries and forthcoming changes to translations, including the master text, the "Novum Testamentum Graece (Nestle-Aland). The 'Nestle-Aland,' or 'NA,' is the source from which almost all versions of the New Testament are translated into every language around the world" (quoted material from Bass' newsletter).  These changes happened because of Schrader-Polzer's work and Bass' promotion of this work.  I'm inspired that academic work can have this effect.

--Bass points out that this kind of revision to Bible scholarship, a major revision like Schrader-Polzer's, doesn't happen often and usually about once a generation.

--In the first century, the town of Magdala didn't exist (roughly minute 1:08).  So using Mary of Magdala would be a wrong translation.

--"Reframing ancient questions" vs. "opening new questions"--Bass uses this language about the way that the Catholic church might approach these developments.  She posits that this research is the reframing of ancient questions kind of development.

--Just after 1:18, Bass and Schrader-Polzer talk about the Gospel as a piece of story telling, a cohesive narrative, that is not the way that most people think about a Gospel:  approaching it the way a creative writer/teacher would see it.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, June 21, 2026:

Genesis 21:8-21

Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17

Romans 6:1b-11

Matthew 10:24-39

As we look at the teachings of Christ, a central theme emerges. Fear is at the root of all that keeps us from God. In this teaching, Jesus again gives us both warnings of what is coming and reminders to be of good cheer.

Again and again, Jesus yokes his teachings of what will be required with the admonition to have no fear. Here, Jesus tells us that God knows about the least little sparrow--and we're worth more than sparrows. The wisdom of the Holy Spirit invites us to new life, not to paralyzing fear. Jesus tells us that even sparrows are nurtured in God's economy. God will take care of us too.

I love this vision of God who knows me from the individual hairs of my head to the rough soles of my feet. I love this vision of God who helps me travel through the dangerous parts of the world. I want to believe that I am worth more than sparrows, and I want to believe that in God's economy, sparrows are worth more than two pennies.

But again, Jesus warns us that we can't stop with that vision. This is a God who keeps watch so that we can do the transformational work that must be done. It is work that is likely to take us to threatening places where we may have to oppose the dominant power structure. We may find ourselves crucified, in every sense of that word.

Again and again, Jesus asks if we're willing to pay the price. Again and again, Jesus offers the promise that we find at the end of this Sunday's Gospel: if we quit our obsessive clinging to those elements that we think give us life, we may indeed find true life.

We find ourselves in a time period where many of us have stopped clinging to those parts of society that diminish and demean us. May we have the courage to move towards what will nourish us and to demand that nourishment for all of us.

Recording of My Sermon for June 14, 2026

Yesterday's sermon went well at Faith Lutheran, the small country church I serve in Bristol, Tennessee.  Because 1/3 of our membership is an extended family, when they go on their family beach vacation, the worship space can feel a bit empty.  Yesterday we had no youth, so no youth sermon.  When I announced that there would be no youth sermon, I asked the congregation to think about what had brought them joy in their own youth.  I referenced a popsicle in the park event that one of the members had made the subject of a Facebook post.  The recording of the sermon referenced that popsicle event; the manuscript does not.

I've been trying to read my sermon less, which in some ways is good, primarily in the more lively energy.  But I don't like that I get tongue-tied, and I worry about my sermons getting longer.  I want a sermon to be 9-12 minutes.  

You can view yesterday's sermon here, on my YouTube channel.  You can read my sermon in yesterday's blog post.

Sermon for Sunday, June 14, 2026

June 14, 2026

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott




Matthew 9:35-10:8, (9-23)




A traditional way of interpreting this Gospel is to see it as a companion to the “Go and make disciples” type of text that weaves its way through the lectionary. Here Jesus tells the disciples what to do as they go out to make disciples. Many sermons approach this text as a mission statement: the mission of the disciples, which then becomes the mission of the church through the ages. Traditional thinking goes something like this: if it’s good enough for those disciples who then train others to go and do likewise, then we, too, can adopt this passage as our mission statement.


But what if this approach is wrong? What if this message of Jesus is only meant for those disciples who are hearing it? What if Jesus didn’t mean for us here in the 21st century to assume that we, too, are supposed to do what those 12 named disciples were called to do?


You might ask, well, what’s it doing here, then? If it’s not direct advice from Jesus telling us how to live our lives and how to judge the success of the church, then what is the purpose of this reading?


Part of the purpose is to bear witness to the good news that Jesus embodies. One way that the writer of the Gospel of Matthew does this is to introduce us to Jesus, and also to introduce us to the disciples, the first generation to continue the work of Jesus.


Some of the first hearers of this Gospel might have actually known the disciples. I imagine them hearing this text and saying, “Curing the sick—yes, John was great at that. Casting out demons—how did Jesus know that Peter would get to be so skilled in that area?”


At this point, let’s do a thought experiment. Imagine that the writer of Matthew needed to add some additional information, some newer disciples who lived in the centuries after the original 12 disciples named in this passage. Who might the Gospel writer choose? Let’s consider some of the great witnesses of the 20th century.


There’s Clarence Jordan, founder of Koinonia Farms, which gave birth to Habitat for Humanity. There’s Dorothy Day, who founded Catholic Worker houses all over the country, showing people how to live communally. There’s Archbishop Oscar Romero who was martyred for speaking out and demanding that the killing of non-combatants in El Salvador stop. And Martin Luther King, who ushered in a new era of human rights.


And of course, there are the less famous disciples, like a woman in my old church in South Florida who taught Confirmation classes for over 60 years; imagine how many people she told about the good news of Jesus. The number of schools and hospitals kept running by faithful people are too many to list in a sermon.


When you hear me list these witnesses, do you say to yourself, “Let me go and start a farm in the red clay dirt of Georgia to show that black and white citizens can farm in harmony like Clarence Jordan did”? I don’t. I don’t have farming skills in the best of circumstances, but I admire those who do.


Why, then, do we hear sermons and theologians tell us that the mission of the original 12 must still be our mission? In part, it’s because we have a long history of this interpretation. And don’t get me wrong: if you can heal the sick, that’s a great way of announcing the good news of Jesus.


But it isn’t the only way. Not by a long shot. Take a minute. Think about your own gifts. If the writer of the Gospel added your skills to the list of healing the sick, cleansing skin diseases, raising the dead, and casting out demons that we hear today, what would it be?


Frederick Buechner has a great quote for those of us who doubt we have any sort of call or who have lost sight of God’s call or who fear it might be too late. in his book Wishful Thinking he says : “The place God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."


Of course, even when we find that place, we won’t always find people who are happy we found it.


In part, today’s Gospel is also a cautionary tale. We can answer our call, our call that is unique to us, our own way of announcing that the Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near, but that doesn’t mean that the world will instantly accept our gifts. Jesus warns us that just the opposite might happen. It sounds pretty grim. Not a great way to win converts. But Jesus tells us not to worry. God will speak through us. We will not be left to our own devices.


Not so long ago, I would have written this sermon imagining that very few of us would face any sort of resistance when we answered God’s call. Humanity seemed on a path of improvement as we charted our way through the last several decades of the 20th century. But as I was pondering this week’s Gospel text, word leaked out that the Southern Baptist Convention has decided to curtail the ways that women can be involved in the church.


Southern Baptists already restrict women in terms of answering a call. A Southern Baptist woman who hears God calling her to be a pastor would not get support in that denomination. In a way, this is not a new development. But that denomination continues to wrestle with how to deal with the issue of women and power. Can women be guest speakers? Can they be lectors? Should women be allowed to supervise men? Can they be Sunday School teachers?


If your social media feed is like mine, you may have seen an upsurge in reminders of all the ways that women have been faithful, with Biblical examples, like Mary Magdalene, whom some call the first apostle, because she’s the first to see the risen Jesus and she tells others. And look what happened to her—most people are more likely to remember her as the woman possessed by demons than as the first apostle.

Not so long ago, I might have said that our religious communities could help us discern a call and help us to be sure that it’s God’s call we’re hearing and not the call of those who might not have our best interests at heart. Now I use the words of Jesus in advising us how to proceed: we must be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. We can ask ourselves if we’re part of a process that announces the Kingdom of God is at hand, or are we announcing someone else’s kingdom.


In this way, we will endure until the end. In this way, we will be saved.