Sermon for July 19, 2026

July 19, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43


If Jesus was going to explain parables, there are other parables that need more explaining than today’s parable and last week’s. These parables of seeds, sowing, good soil, and sorting don’t really need additional explanation, not from Jesus, not from generations of preachers that have come after Jesus.


You might be objecting to this parable from a standpoint of Lutheran theology—what happened to grace? We’re using the Revised Common Lectionary, and the idea of a common lectionary is that all Christians are hearing the same text on the same Sunday across the world. Today’s parable will fit in more neatly with the theology of other denominations than with Luther’s ideas of a God of grace.


This vision of the end of time, when God returns to judge the living and the dead, would be one that energized the apostle Paul. Last week, I talked about Paul and how so many generations of Christians have treasured his letters, but he had a very different vision of his mission. He was not writing letters in the hopes of being the chief theologian of a new church. He thought that God would be returning very soon, in his lifetime, to judge the living and the dead. His letters were written in the hopes that they would guide new believers in ways that would save them from the harsh judgment described in this parable’s explanation.


Paul would not be worried about the Jews and their salvation. They have a covenant with God after all. They’ve had a head start. But we see from his letters that Paul is deeply concerned about the salvation of the Gentiles, who don’t have much time to prepare for God’s return to judge them.


When we interpret the parables in traditional ways, we, too, are likely thinking in terms of a human lifespan, not a cosmic span, in our timeline, not God’s timeline. We think about the spiritual practices that are likely to save us from the fire, from the final judgment. I’ve preached these sermons, so I know the pull of that interpretation, how easy it would be to bring my sermon to a close by urging to seek out spiritual disciplines that work and to jettison the habits that are keeping us from being our best spiritual selves.


In today’s parable, we see Jesus reminding us that it’s not always obvious which seeds are which at the time of sprouting. God the gardener takes a wait and see attitude. The interpretation of the parable at the end reminds us that God takes a much longer view, the kind of view that waits to see what the garden produces. The Apostle Paul has always been important to Christians, even in his lifespan. But what about apostles that had their work undermined by those workers who are so ready to yank out weeds?


This week, I have found my thoughts returning to Mary Magdalene. We usually hear about her on Easter, if we hear about her at all. But her feast day is Wednesday, July 22. Hers is one of the first feast days devoted to someone other than the 12 male disciples. Modern Christians have a plethora of feast days to celebrate. Ancient Christians would have had far fewer, one for each disciple, a few for the earliest apostles, and a few that celebrated events in the Gospels, like the Annunciation, 9 months before Christmas, when the angel Gabriel visits Mary the mother of Jesus.


The fact that Mary Magdalene had a feast day early should have told us of her importance, but for centuries, most of us haven’t learned much about her. At best, we were probably told that she was the first witness to the resurrection, important because she alerted the disciples.


However recent scholarship suggests that she was far more important, a woman who was present with the disciples for many of the important events, including the Last Supper. But as early Church fathers became more protective of the faith, in the 3rd and 4th centuries, Mary Magdalene was written out of the Gospels—for a variety of reasons. Scholar Elizabeth Schrader-Polzer has done important work in the last ten years to establish how Mary Magdalene was written out of the Gospel of John so that it would seem less radical and be included with the other 3 Gospels when the New Testament was compiled in the 4th century. Four years ago, in a sermon given by theologian Diana Butler Bass talked about Elizabeth Schrader-Polzer’s scholarly work on Mary Magdalene. That sermon, given at the Wild Goose festival, is now 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.


Going forward, study Bibles will have a footnote that will refer to Elizabeth Schrader-Polzer’s work—this development is a very big deal. Recognition for the work of Elizabeth Schrader-Polzer has come fairly quickly. But we all know that we don’t always recognize important people in a timely way.


I could give plenty of examples closer to our own time period. Let me choose just one. Summer always puts me in mind of long afternoons in childhood with the luxury of getting lost in a good book. When I was a kid, I was often reading and re-reading Madeleine L’Engle. You probably already know about her book, A Wrinkle in Time. But she wrote many, many more, for children and for adults.


She always said she wrote for readers, not for age groups, and if it’s been awhile since you read A Wrinkle in Time, I encourage you to return to it. It’s a book we need now more than ever, a book that insists on the power of love, and a book with a provocative message that what may seem like our most difficult faults and personality traits may in fact be the way we save the world.


It’s a novel that almost didn’t get published. L’Engle had 10 years of not being published before she wrote the book, and in her 40’s, after writing it, she had publisher after publisher reject it. The rejections were so intense that she almost gave up writing. Thank goodness she didn’t. That book has gone on to win awards and to remain in print, along with most of her other books. We can’t say that for most books published in 1963.


When we look at people like Paul or Mary Magdalene or Madeleine L’Engle through God shaped glasses, we see how successful they were. To keep the garden metaphor going, imagine them as carrying on the work of the Son, the work of Jesus. Jesus gives the disciples and apostles the seeds of the Good News, and those very human first Christians spread them far and wide. Later believers have continued to widen the garden. Some seeds that are sown are obviously wheat, like the Apostle Paul and the scholar Elizabeth Schrader-Polzer. Other seeds may look like weeds, like Mary Magdalene and Madeleine L’Engle, holding on where they don’t appear to be welcome. But time reveals that they, too, have a place in God’s garden.


We all have a place in God’s garden. Don’t listen to the people who treat others like weeds. Instead, grow in the soil of Jesus’ teaching, sure in the promise that we will shine like the sun as we flourish in God’s garden, watered by grace, nourished by God’s love.

Making Cut Paper Cards

Earlier this week, I went to the studio of a neighborhood friend.  She wanted to make cards out of cut paper, and I was happy to try my hand.  She had the supplies, including papers we painted earlier in the year for a retreat.  If you look closely, you can see the hymnbook print behind the paint.

One approach is to look for words that match the picture or mood.  I rarely did that.  I was primarily looking for the colors that I needed.  But when I returned to the picture below to add some additional green circles that I hope look like a tree canopy, I saw some bits that worked, most notably at the top word "Seasons."

It was a fun exercise, but harder than it looks.  I was trying to make shapes that evoked tents, but I'm not sure the purple under the trees or the red shapes at the bottom of the mountains in the upper card do that.  I was more pleased with the trees and with the mountains.  

My friend also decorated the envelopes to match the image on the cards, but I didn't have the patience to work with that canvas that needed to be smaller so that there's room for the addresses.

It is fun to work on a project like this one while catching up.  I'm grateful to be able to share her supplies and the hospitality of her studio.  And now I have two more cards to send out.  I am feeling truly fortunate.

Christ Dwelling and Delighting in Us--a Prayer/Affirmation

On one of our walks during Music Week, my Florida friend gave me a prayer/affirmation that she often uses, and then she sent me a link.

Here's the prayer/affirmation:

"I am one in whom Christ dwells and delights. I live in the strong and unshakeable Kingdom of God.  The kingdom is not in trouble and neither am I."

James Bryan Smith is the one who gets the credit.  He talks about how the sentences came to him in The Next Right Thing podcast done by Emily P. Freedman:

"The story isn’t as great as I like, I should probably make up a better one. In truth, i happened accidentally. I was teaching the first phrase, “I am one in whom Christ dwells and delights” came about when I was teaching a college class, undergraduate class and I was trying to communicate with the students something very important about Apostle Paul. That is the Apostle Paul in his epistles used the phrase, In Christ or In Christ in us by my count around 89 times. That’s a lot. So, I was stunned at the sheer size, the amount at the time. Wow, if Paul uses that phrase and self identifies as being in Christ or Christ in us, then that should be the dominant way we understand our identity as Christians. So, I was up in front of the classroom. I had written 89 times on the board and I’m talking about all of this stuff. I said at the end of the day, folks, as Christians, have to understand we are people in whom Christ dwells and to the class as I was saying those words, just like your listeners, there was a student in the front row, his name is Chris, and I’m still in contact with Chris, he is a doctor now. But, he raised his hand and asked if I could say that again. And I said, we are people in whom Christ dwells and I could tell that when I said the phrase the phrasing had some spiritual energy and I believe it does because first of all, it is biblical and it’s dealing with truth that we didn’t just make up as power of positive thinking. It’s actually rooted in biblical reality. So, I think that certain words and phrases have that kind of power. Dallas Willard said that he prayed for those kinds of words and phrases because he knew the power. Dallas had so many phrases like that. They are so quotable.  Dallas said, quit quoting me. I said I can’t say it any better."

I like the idea of praying for the right words and phrases.  Smith says, "Speaking of writers, I think it was Mark Twain that said, The difference between goodbwords and the right word is the difference between a lightning bug and lightning. The idea of well, it’s a good word, but it’s like POW!, like lightning, it has life to it, when the words come together just the right way."

You can listen and/or download a transcript here.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The lessons for Sunday, July 19, 2026:

First Reading: Isaiah 44:6-8

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Genesis 28:10-19a

First Reading (Alt.): Wisdom of Solomon 12:13, 16-19

Psalm: Psalm 86:11-17

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 139: 1-11, 22-23 (Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24 NRSV)

Second Reading: Romans 8:12-25

Gospel: Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

Again this week we have agricultural metaphors--what an intriguing scenario, to have an enemy that sneaks into your fields to sow weeds, instead of just destroying the field outright. And what an interesting response of the owner: to let the wheat and the weeds grow, to separate the useful from the useless later, once the growing is done and the reaping finished.

The traditional response to this Gospel sees this story as a metaphor about Judgement Day. My problem with that metaphor is that weeds don't turn into wheat, and I don't like the implications of that. The parable comes much too close to advocating predestination for my Lutheran sensibilities to be happy with this interpretation.

Luckily, humans aren't solely weeds or wheat. I know that there are some weeks where I'm more of a weed than anything that is of agricultural use. And I'm the pesky kind of weed; I'm not the kind of weed that grows quietly alone; I impede the spiritual progress of others, strangling and choking and making life miserable. I console myself by telling myself that we all have those days or weeks or seasons where our weedy natures take over.

But I can’t take too much consolation. These summer Gospel readings remind us that we don’t get to sleep in the soil forever. We don't get to loll around in our wheatfield, hoping that we're one of the chosen ones and not one of the weeds. At some point, the wheat will be separated from the weeds.

Let us return to the idea of sowing and seeds, a useful metaphor in so many ways. How can we sow seeds now that will blossom into good gardens later? There are as many ways to do this as there are vegetables in the garden right now in many parts of the country.

Maybe we could pray more. Maybe we could resolve to be cheerful, no matter what the day brings. Maybe we could give one or two percent more of our income away. Maybe we could remember to say “please” and “thank you.” Maybe we could turn off the news and reach for something that inspires us.

Our basic task is to shine God's light into a world that's increasingly troubled. How can you best do that?

If you feel disheartened, like your weedy self is too firmly rooted, remember those who have gone before you. One of Christianity's most successful evangelists, Paul, was killing Christians before he converted. If God found a use for Paul, God can use your seedling talents too.

Seed Lottery: the Youth Sermon for Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23

Sunday's Gospel reading was Matthew 13: 1-9, 18-23, the sower throwing seeds in every sort of landscape.  It's a reading that always takes me back to Godspell and the ways the wacky clown disciples acted out the parable.  

With a different set of kids, I might have suggested some improv instead of a youth sermon.  But the youth of Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee are not drama club kids, and I didn't want to put them on the spot like that.  So I created something different.

I usually invite the youth to come forward for the youth sermon, while the congregation sings.  Yesterday I invited them up to play "Seed Lottery."

I had created slips of cardstock, and on each slip, I wrote one of the types of ground:  "rocky ground," "a path where people walk," "a thorn patch," "a place with no sun,"  "ground with no rain," "ground where birds live," and "good soil with enough water and sun."  I had each youth draw a slip of cardstock, and then said we'd see which seed won the seed lottery.

They pointed to the one who drew that last slip.  I talked a bit about how the other growing spots might not be as bad as we think:  a bird can eat a seed and give it a chance to grow in a different place, complete with a bit of fertilizer (did every youth understand I was talking about poop?  who knows).

And then I concluded with the important piece:  God isn't running a seed lottery, with one clear winner and everyone else with lesser options.  God can take all sorts of situations, like rocky ground or thorns, and turn them into something good, something beyond our imagining.  

I was pleased with how it turned out.  My youth sermons are often just me chatting; I like mixing it up by doing something different.  Not every Gospel lends itself to something different, so I'm happy when they do--and happy when I can figure out a different approach while there is still time to do it.

Recording of Yesterday's Sermon

Yesterday was a good day at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  The heavy rains hadn't arrived yet, but it had been a cooler week, so we weren't all worn out from the heat and the 4th of July.  I had a great week at Lutheridge for Music Week, and my parents joined us at Faith on their circuitous way back to Williamsburg.  My mom's cousin Ruth joined us too.

I tried to do something a bit different with the passage from Matthew that talks about seeds and a sower.  I even brought in the Apostle  Paul, who by certain metrics would be a failure--of all the churches he founded, not one still exists.

I described the sermon this way:  "Perhaps you need a Sunday sermon that tells you that seeds get more than one chance in God's garden, that God, our exuberant sower of seeds, has great plans for us, that even people like the Apostle Paul could be considered a failure when considering certain metrics, and thus, there's hope for us."

You can view the sermon here on my YouTube channel.  If you'd like to read along, the sermon manuscript is in yesterday's blog post.

Sermon for Sunday, July 12, 2026

July 12, 2026

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23



This parable is strange, but not in the traditional way that parables are strange. What’s highly unusual is the last part of today’s reading, when Jesus starts explaining the parable in verse 18 instead of leaving our understanding to chance. You might be surprised and say, “Finally! Jesus here is more like Paul, telling us what he’s trying to say and how to apply what he’s saying!”


Because it is so very unlike the way Jesus usually uses parables, some scholars think it’s not Jesus at all. In fact, this is the only parable where he gives this tidy explanation. Maybe it’s the only time he channeled his inner Paul-like teaching self in all of the years of his ministry, but it’s far more likely that the explanation was inserted later. We always want to keep in mind that the Gospels were written long after the death of Jesus, and it’s not like the disciples carried a tape recorder with them or even made written notes about what Jesus said.


Do we like the tidy explanation? Does it yield any surprises? Would it matter if it wasn’t said by Jesus?


According to this tidy explanation, the seed is the Good News that Jesus brings us, and the various types of ground represent humans. On the surface, the metaphors work well enough. But they’re much too simple to tell us about the fullness of a human spiritual life.


We hear about these seeds, and we want to be part of that last group, with those phenomenal crop yields. Our modern minds aren’t likely familiar enough with ancient harvesting statistics to comprehend how big these yields really are. I found some information about yields in a Gospel commentary. A 7 fold yield is good; 10 fold would be true abundance. A 30 fold yield feeds a village for a year. But Jesus talks about a 60 fold yield or a 100 fold yield. Wow. Imagine planting 1 acre of beans and getting 100 acres of return on beans. I wish I liked beans. Let’s use a non-agricultural metaphor. Imagine making 1 cheesecake for your family for dessert, and you had enough for everyone in the tri-county area.


Those of us who are overachievers may hear this passage and feel we need to get to work on our spiritual practices so that we can be part of the 100 fold yield. But remember that Jesus didn’t come to bring us a cosmic self-improvement plan, although many people do respond this way to the Bible. But really, one of the most important reasons why Jesus came was to reveal God to us.


So, how is God revealed in this parable?


I think about the sower who is sowing those good seeds everywhere—and most of them are places where seeds aren’t likely to grow. Even in ancient times a sower would know not to throw seeds in those places. But our generous God is not a sensible sower. Our God goes places that a sensible sower would leave alone.


Think of our own lives in landscape terms. Even if we’re in a high-yield field right now, we’ve likely had times when we felt strangled by thorns. It’s not unusual to be pecked to the point of injury by the birds that are the people and institutions in charge of lives and livelihoods. We might have had good times where we felt like all was going right in our spiritual lives, only to be scorched when some colossal bad news came our way. How does this parable speak to us?


In the kind of garden where we plant each year and plow it all under at the end of the growing season, this parable would mean that we had only one chance. If we’re not high yield followers now, well, tough luck. If it’s a year without rain or a year of heavy storms, too bad. If we’re strangled by thorns or destroyed by birds, well, maybe someone else will get to be a high yield Christian.


But I am here to encourage us to think of ourselves not as the kind of plant that has only one chance to flourish, but as believers who are more like the volunteer tomato plant that grows by the mailbox year after year. Or better yet, believers as blackberry brambles. I am thinking of the blackberry vines that grow in various spots along the Lutheridge roads where I walk each summer morning. The blackberries are growing exuberantly this year, and I’ve heard something similar from those who have blueberries and elderberries.


If you haven’t tracked blackberry growth, you might shrug and say, “Well, yeah, that’s what berry plants do.” And maybe, left on their own, that might be true. But I’ve watched these brambles for almost half a decade now, and there have been times when I never expected to see another berry. The summer before Hurricane Helene, Duke Power came through to install new power poles. They bushwacked all the way up the hill, taking out every single berry with them. They also took out every thorny branch, leaving the ground bare and muddy, and I assumed the berries were gone forever.


Then Hurricane Helene came through, and surveying the wreckage, I assumed nothing would grow ever again—such is the nature of despair. But last summer, which was the first growing season after Helene, I noticed some berries peeking out from the downed trees—but only in one spot.


This year, I’m seeing berries in the usual places—but also in new places. Did I never notice them before? It’s more likely that a blackberry seed traveled, either by storm or by bird. And suddenly, there are blackberries where there were none before.


Now think back to the metaphors as the end of the Gospel explains them. If we think about the landing places for seeds, what we are given as explanation doesn’t leave room for second chances or any other kind of grace. But we know that seeds can sprout in the most unlikely places, poking their way through concrete or surviving digestive systems of birds or others and finding themselves in a new spot, giving extravagant blackberry harvests.


I think of Paul and wonder if he would be astonished at the unlikely harvest his work created. He would certainly be surprised that his letters survived and became the foundational documents of Christian faith. He was writing letters to specific churches with specific problems. He thought that the final judgment was underway, so he was trying to make sure his congregations were ready when God came back to judge the living and the dead, which he expected to happen in his lifetime.


We can’t go and see any of those churches today. If you take a tour of Greece, or anywhere else that Paul traveled, you can’t go worship in the spaces that Paul founded to see how they responded to Paul’s letters. You won’t find congregations that have been worshipping there for over two thousand years or families who have worshipped for so many generations that they have their own endowed pew. We might be tempted to say that the seeds that Paul sowed fell on rocky soil.


And yet, that would not be true. Here we are, reading the Gospels and Paul’s letters and trying to discern the best way to be sowers for the Kingdom of God. Here we are, 5,470 miles away from Paul’s mission field, thousands of years later.


Today’s Gospel is full of grace—particularly if we drop the explanation. There’s more than one way to sow a seed and more than one harvest that might be produced. What one generation determines to be a low yielding crop might actually produce 100 fold when we look back across time and space. Soil that’s difficult for one crop might be fertile for others.


Happily, God’s abundance means a wide variety of chances: chances for us as seeds, chances for us as soil, chances for the Kingdom of God to come near to us, whether we’re trapped in stony paths or wrapped in thorny brambles or ready to flourish in well fertilized soil. The word of God will germinate in ways that will surprise and delight us, and ways that will change across one person’s lifespan and across all of human history. Seeds can find a way to sprout in and through concrete; the word of God is even more resilient and determined to find a way to grow in each and every one of us.