Sermon for Sunday, August 30, 2026

 

August 30, 2026

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Matthew 16:21-28

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s Gospel picks up where last week’s Gospel stopped.  Literally.  It’s the very next verse.  And a gentle reminder—when the Gospels were written, they didn’t have chapters and verses.  Those were inserted later, much later.  And the lectionary of specified readings on any given Sunday is even newer.

 

Last Sunday we read the earlier verses of chapter 16, where Peter declares Jesus to be the Messiah.  Jesus declares that Peter will be the rock on which Jesus will be the church, the rock, a solid foundation.  And now, just a few verses later, Jesus is saying that Peter is Satan?  What is going on?

 

The most likely possibility is that Jesus is not saying Peter equals Satan, not saying that Peter is possessed.  But in Peter’s vow, Jesus recognizes the tempter lurking, the one he has already encountered, just after his baptism, in the wilderness, when he is offered every variation of worldly power.  The tempter says that Jesus will be exalted if he will just move from Supreme leader to loyal follower—of the tempter.

 

It’s that same worldly power that attracts Peter.  Remember back to last week’s Gospel, that Jesus and the disciples are in Caesarea Phillipi.  Last week we talked about this place being one of palaces built to glorify Caesar, but this place also tells a story about the Jewish family of rulers who sold out to the Romans, Herod the Great and his descendants, the same family of Herods who haunt the whole Gospel of Matthew.

 

New Testament scholar Audrey West sums up the history this way:  “A couple of decades before Jesus’ birth, Herod the Great had built a temple . . . in honor of Caesar Augustus. By the time Jesus and his disciples visited the region, Caesarea Philippi had been given over to the auspices of Herod’s son, Philip the tetrarch, who established the city as the administrative center of his government. By the time the Gospel of Matthew was written, people were likely aware that the Roman commander who led the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE had returned with his troops to Caesarea Philippi in celebration of their victory.”

 

Tired of tyranny, Peter declares Jesus to be the true Messiah, the one foretold by the prophets, the one who will restore the fortune of Israel.  Like so many who followed Jesus, he was hoping for a savior to kick the Romans out of the homeland and bring down traitors like Herod.  Perhaps Peter looked at the crowds and envisioned a popular uprising—and in fact, there was a popular uprising, in 70 CE, which led to the destruction of Jerusalem and the Jews being forcibly deported to lands that weren’t their own.

 

Like Peter, we, too, are yearning for many types of deliverance.  As I listened to the outpouring of grief after the death of Dolly Parton this week, I thought of the many kinds of deliverance and hope she offered.  For some grievers, it’s the rags to riches story that we hope is possible for all.  For some, it was her ability to be successful in all sorts of businesses in a time where there were hardly any female CEOs—and even today, only 11% of CEOs are female.  Everyone has a favorite story of how she was such a force for good in the world, all the many ways she supported so many oppressed populations:  her hometown, little children who needed books (which is all children), drag queens, black musicians from Whitney Houston to Beyonce, storm ravaged places, on and on the list could go.  It’s no wonder that so many people yearned for Dolly Parton to run for president.

 

Peter, too, must have looked at Jesus and all the ways he had been such a deliverance to so many people.  And he envisions what the world would be like if Jesus was king, not Herod, not Caesar.

 

Let’s be honest—we’ve probably had the same kind of vision.  Wouldn’t the world be a better place if Jesus was in the White House?  Of course, some people do make that claim, that Jesus is there, that the U.S. has most favored nation status.

 

I thought of this recently when stuck in traffic behind a Jeep with a spare tire cover that depicted an image of a cross and an American flag that declared that God has been blessing the nation for 250 years. I thought of the different nations of Native Americans who might disagree, of others who were brought to the country in chains and kept enslaved.  I thought of all the people brought to this country from other lands to do hard work like building railroads, but who weren’t allowed full citizenship.  On and on this list could go, of people who might not see a story of blessing over the past 250 years of history.

 

But the idea itself is a seductive one, this idea that God favors some of us and worldly wealth flows from that favor.  However, this idea that mingles nationalism and the Divine is not what Jesus proclaims.  Again and again, he tells us just the opposite:  the last shall be first and the lowly shall be uplifted.

 

If Jesus ran for president with those campaign promises, would he be elected?

 

Jesus understands what Peter wants, what most of us want.  We want what Dolly had, the sparkly wealth, the adoration that results in a whole world grieving when death comes, the power that comes with wealth and adoration.

 

Jesus points us to the other side of the Dolly Parton story, the way that she gave away so much of her wealth and power.  My favorite story that I didn’t know until this week is that when her old friend and mentor Porter Wagner was facing jail because he was in so much debt, she bought the rights to his catalogue, every song he ever wrote or bought.  And this is the man who was not only her mentor, but the man who tried to destroy her when she decided to try for a solo career.  He sued her for 3 million dollars.  But later,  not only does she rescue him, but then she turns around and gives the catalogue rights back to his children, so they won’t be destitute.

 

Wow.

 

We grieve the loss of humans like Jesus, of humans like Dolly, because their kind of grace and compassion is so rare.  They have a fierce loyalty to this vision of grace and compassion.

 

Today’s Gospel is indeed a study in loyalty.  We’ve seen how Peter’s loyalty will shift, and we know the end of the story, how Peter will deny this man he has declared to be the Messiah.  We see Jesus once again resisting the tempter who wants the loyalty of Jesus.  We see Jesus stay loyal to God even when everyone around him, from the people in charge of society to his own followers, are not able to maintain loyalty to God’s vision for the world.

 

At first glance, we might see today’s Gospel as one that tells us not to ask questions.  After all, so many leaders on so many levels won’t tolerate anyone telling their truths.  We live in a time where asking questions is seen by many people, particularly those in higher realms of authority and power, as disrespectful and disloyal, a firing offense or worse.

 

But that’s not what’s happening in this interaction between Peter and Jesus.  Jesus reminds Peter that Peter’s view of liberation is much too limited and that Peter, and indeed all humans, are oppressed by many forces in the world.  Jesus comes to set us free from all the powers and principalities who will not stop dehumanizing practices just because we want them to.

 

Again and again, Jesus asks the question that echoes across the ages:  will we be loyal to our own vision of what liberation looks like—for ourselves, for each other, for our nation, for the world—or will we make room for loyalty to God?

 

Our reading from Paul shows us what that loyalty to God looks like, a loyalty summed up by the last verse of our second reading:  “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

 

If we protest that only Jesus could do such a thing, and he was Divine, and therefore we can’t be expected to go and live likewise—well, in the life of Dolly Parton, we see evidence to the contrary.

 

We might not be able to give 30 million books to children across the nation, the way that Dolly did.  We might be just as confused as Peter at times.  Happily, most humans live long enough to try again, to pick up our crosses, to live a Jesus shaped life, not a life shaped by the desire for all the worldly powers that are so alluring and so corrosive.

 

 

Out of a beginning poorer in material resources than many of us will ever experience, Dolly Parton shows us what might happen if we have the courage to live in the way that Jesus calls us to live, if we commit to a world where everyone can flourish, not just the few at the top, not only the Herods who collude with the forces of death and empire.

 

Let us face each day with new resolve to live in a way so that we hold fast to what is good, having the courage to use all our time, our resources, our talents, and our skills to be a living testimony to Jesus by following his example, resisting the temptation to be loyal to other forces that want our fidelity to a different vision, making a world that is better for all.

 

Quilt Camp Confessions

At one point yesterday evening, as I began to despair at ever getting my huge quilt done, I thought of my grandmother.  When I asked her to teach me to quilt, she snorted and said, "Why would you want to quilt when you can just go to Wal-Mart and buy a blanket for six dollars?"

That price tells you how long ago it was.  And yet, that dismissal remains.  I think of how many people during Quilt Camp were astonished at my quilting by hand, by my quilting at all.  Most people at Quilt Camp send their project to their favorite long arm quilter and pay to have the quilting done.  And then they still need to do the binding to finish the quilt.

At times yesterday, I enjoyed the quilting with the multiple memories the fabric inspired:  the few bits from clothes my grandmother made me, the bit from the quilt I made for my now-grown nephew for his first big boy bed, the various squares put together in slightly different ways, my experiment with smaller and smaller scraps.  I thought of all the various friends who gave me their scraps.

I won't lie:  putting together the quilt top is my favorite part of any project, especially in the early days of a project where I don't have to worry as much about how it will all come together into a unified whole.

I was also running on fumes for much of yesterday:  I didn't sleep well because of achiness that comes from quilting for hours in strange positions, staffing the camp store, and an afternoon planning meeting that went long.  By evening, I was despairing, having not made the progress I was anticipating.

I still have some quilting time this morning, and I'm already at the point where I need to be, the point where I can finish the quilt from my living room.  It's the center part that needs to be stabilized before the rest can be done--and that part is much easier done the way I did it over the past two days.

I'm grateful to have had this time, but also a bit sad that I had to be so focused on this one project.  Of course, the next Quilt Camp is only 2 months away, so I don't need to feel sad at all.

First Full Day of Summer 2026 Quilt Camp

I've spent part of the summer finishing the process of putting together the quilt top for the quilt I hoped to be assembling during Summer 2026 Quilt Camp at Lutheridge.  

We've also been going back and forth on the size of the bed we plan to have once we move into the Spartanburg fixer-upper house we bought back in May.  We've finally decided on a king size bed, so I sewed the last panel back to the quilt top; back in July, I had taken that panel off when we changed our minds from king back to queen. Now we're fairly sure it will be a king size bed that we will buy. 

On my way to work on Tuesday, I stopped at Foam and Fabric--they sell wide fabric for quilt backs, and I decided that it was worth the cost so that I didn't have to sew the back together.

Yesterday morning, I was ready to start quilting.  Because Summer Quilt Camp has less attendance than other times of the year, I was able to use extra tables to make the quilting of the king size quilt easier.  I spread out the backing fabric and then the batting and then spent time figuring out how to position the top.

I spent yesterday quilting the middle of the quilt.  I wanted to make sure I got that part stabilized in case I couldn't complete the project during this retreat.

People dropped by my station to take a closer look.  Before I close up the project, I thought that I, too, should preserve a closer look.  I'm not only quilting by hand, but I also sewed the whole top by hand.

It's a lot of sewing, but it's usually done when I'm watching T.V.  or chatting.  It's often part of my self-soothing tool kit, which doing it by machine would not be.  I've also done other projects along the way.  It's taken a long time, but I haven't really noticed.

This morning, I went back to past blog posts, and here's the one where I see the project that inspired me, back in the Fall 2022 Quilt Camp.  By January, I had made some progress, documented in this blog post.    Along the way, a friend showed me that I didn't need sashing between the squares, and that decision made the assembly of the top much more fun.

I spent one Quilt Camp putting squares together on design boards in search of the perfect flow of colors, which I then sewed together, only to realize that I didn't really have enough for a queen size bed.  I sewed more squares, and when I returned to the project, I put squares together into long panels more randomly, which worked just as well.

Quilting is never my favorite part of the project, at least not bed-size projects.  It's hard on the fingers and the back--and other muscles too.  But with this project, I've had an unexpected benefit:  the chance to return to all those squares, to marvel at the differences in scraps included, to delight in all the colors and fabrics in this quilt.

Onward to Day 2!

Farewell, Dolly Parton

I'm as sad as everyone about the death of Dolly Parton.  Let me record a few thoughts:

--I'm glad that I was a child in the 70's, that my mom listened to A.M. radio, which meant I heard all kinds of music, including Dolly Parton's songs, both old and new.  The radio stations of my childhood played anything, so you could hear a Dolly Parton song, then a Beatles song, then an old Elvis song, sprinkled with modern pop by groups like Bread, the Carpenters, and so on.

Modern algorithms would not have sent Dolly Parton music my way.  But I must confess that it has taken me many decades to appreciate her music, and I still wouldn't choose her music for a long drive or an evening at home.

--I didn't see her acting during my childhood.  I didn't see 9 to 5 until a few years ago.  I did love Steel Magnolias.

--I've never been to Dollywood.  I would go, if I won tickets.

--I'm not an expert on business, but from my outsider view, she seemed to have business smarts that most of us will never possess.  She know how to capitalize on success while always seeming/being sincere in her enthusiasm.  That skill probably can't be taught in Business school.

--In terms of gender and presentation, she always intrigued me.  There have been years when I was frustrated and annoyed by her over the top femaleness.  Let me just be blunt:  the attention to her breasts was so offputting to me.  As I got older, her costumes intrigued me--the woman liked what she liked, and she loved sparkles.  

As I've gotten older, I've been in awe of all the ways she worked the system without losing her soul.  But I've also been sad about how hard it must have been for her, and about how many others did not survive, which wasn't her fault.

And I've been happy about how she blazed a trail for others--and then kept making sure the trail stayed clear (and to stretch the metaphor, she went back and made roads).

--Her songwriting skills -- wow.  I was amazed at how many songs she wrote.  I loved when she was interviewed and would talk about her creative process, about grabbing inspiration when it came and writing it down on scraps of paper, even the barf bag on an airplane.  

--Her musician skills -- wow.  She played with so many people through the years, and the fact that she could do so speaks to her singing skills, her skills on so many instruments, her expansive vision of what music could and should do.

--She didn't always talk openly about her faith.  Sure, she talked about the faith of her childhood.  I'd have liked to have known more about her grown up faith.

--Of course, she showed us that faith by all the people she helped, by the life she lived.

--Her philanthropy has always been what impressed me most about her.  She gave back, above and beyond, in so many ways, and much of what she did, we will never know about.

--And she continued to do good until the very end, in all the ways she was doing good:  music, support of other artists, business, philanthropy.  Her continued vibrance is why so many of us are feeling sad.  

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, August 30, 2026:

First Reading: Jeremiah 15:15-21

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Exodus 3:1-15

Psalm: Psalm 26:1-8

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45b

Second Reading: Romans 12:9-21

Gospel: Matthew 16:21-28


This Gospel shows us a picture of Jesus who knows that he's on a path to rejection and death. With clear sight and clear mission, Jesus warns his disciples of what's ahead.  But he promises that this sacrifice comes with great reward.

Peter has a typical reaction to the difficult part of the future that Jesus reveals: "That will never happen."  Peter wants a different kind of Messiah, one who will kick the Roman oppressor out of the homeland and restore the Jewish people to former glory.

Jesus understands that he is, indeed, on a collision course with Rome.  But it will end very differently for Jesus than the kind of ending Peter wants.  It will end differently for Peter too, and Jesus says that if we're true believers, we, too, will lose our lives.

We'll have all kinds of crosses to bear, Jesus warns us, and we'll lose our lives in all kinds of ways. But we'll get wonderful rewards.

It's important to stress that Jesus isn't just talking about Heaven, or whatever your vision is of what happens when you die. If Jesus spoke directly, Jesus might say, "You're thinking too small. Did I give you an imagination so that you let it wither and waste away? Dream big, dream big."

In Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, N.T. Wright stresses that Jesus doesn't just announce a Kingdom in some Heaven that's somewhere else. On the contrary--the appearance of Jesus means that God's plan for redeeming creation has begun. And we're called to help. Wright says, ". . . you must follow in the way of the cross, and if you want to benefit from Jesus' saving death, you must become part of his kingdom project." (204-205). 

For many of us, the most difficult part of Jesus' mission that he gives us will be the willingness to believe that the arc of history bends towards justice, as Martin Luther King reminded us. The arc of history also bends towards beauty and wisdom and love and mercy. Some of us are so beaten down that we forget. Some of us would have no problem being crucified for our faith, but it's much harder to believe in God's vision of a redeemed world and to work to make that happen. But scripture and thousands of years of theology makes it clear; as Wright says, "We are called to live within the world where these things are possible and to agents of such things insofar as they lie in our calling and sphere" (248).

We'll lose our current lives of bitterness, fear, hopelessness, and rage. But we'll find a better one as we become agents of the Kingdom.

Satisfying Sunday: Worship/Cookout in the Pavilion and Reading in the Evening

Yesterday, I made this Facebook post which sums up my Sunday morning:

"We had a great morning at Faith Evangelical Lutheran Church, where I preached on Matthew 16 and ended my sermon by asking us to think about how our lives themselves are gospels that testify to the identity of Jesus and his role in our lives. We had a hamburger/hotdog lunch in the pavilion, with delicious food and nourishing fellowship. I'm not sure how the morning could have been much better, short of winning a lottery amount that would let us solve the shortage of affordable housing in the area and provide quality health care for all."

To see a recording of my sermon, go here to my YouTube channel.  To read the manuscript, go to this blog post.

The afternoon was also good.  I did a bit of sewing, caught up on chores, and got ready for the week.  In the evening, my spouse was listening to old Hank Williams songs, and I read--a delight!

I read most of Tara Menon's Under Water last night.  I read a bit of it earlier in the day, in the just after midnight moments of Sunday, where it confused me at first.  It took me a bit of time to realize the narrative is shifting back and forth in time, mainly from 2004 to 2012, but also back to earlier childhood years of the narrator.  I read the Acknowledgements and figured out the tsunami angle. When I picked up the book, I thought it was more of a future apocalypse kind of novel, but it’s a different kind of climate catastrophe novel.

At first it seems like a slight book. But it packs a powerful punch—about a woman who undergoes two catastrophes, the 2004 tsunami and Hurricane Sandy in 2012.

And now, a new week--a week that ends in Quilt Camp.  Let me get ready.

Sermon for Sunday, August 23, 2026

August 23, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



Matthew 16:13-20



When I teach first year students in Composition classes, the first writing assignment is for them to write about themselves. What could be easier? They can write about one aspect of themselves, or 3 aspects: for example, what sport do they play, what hobbies do they have, what experiences have made them who they are today. It’s been interesting to read these essays as I’ve been thinking about this week’s Gospel.


I’ve been imagining Jesus teaching my Composition students, the way he’s been teaching the disciples. Some of my students don’t feel like they’ve done anything interesting ever. Some of them are convinced that they are on the cusp of greatness—or that they are already there and are just waiting for the world to recognize this fact. I wonder how Peter behaved, after Jesus tells him he’ll be the cornerstone of the church. Did his opinion of himself change? Did his behavior change? Or perhaps Peter already thought of himself this highly.


It might be worth thinking in poetic terms about this Gospel. If Peter is the Rock, who are we? Some of us are willow trees that bend with storms but don’t break. Or maybe we’re sand, having been worn down by those storms, but still valuable. Maybe we’re soil made rich by the compost of circumstances. Some of us are grass, that steady groundcover that makes the larger plants possible by holding the soil in place.


The Gospel wants us to wrestle with these questions. Who are you? And who is the triune God in relation to you?


This year, I’ve been surprised by how many students have been writing about their relationship with Jesus. Of course it is a Methodist college. The phrase “personal Lord and savior” gets used a lot. It’s an interesting contrast to Peter’s answer when Jesus asks, “"But who do you say that I am?"


Notice, though, Peter’s answer: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Peter is not saying “You are my personal Lord and savior.” Peter is not inviting Jesus into his heart so that he can avoid going to Hell when he dies or any other benefits that might accrue.


We hear Peter’s language, with the word, “Messiah,” and we may have a very different idea of what it means. Maybe we think of the Halleluiah chorus or the rest of that magnificent choral piece, Handel’s “Messiah,” that so many of us sing or hear at Christmas and Easter. Maybe we think of the word “Messiah” as one more of the many names of Jesus, like last week’s use of Lord.


Like Lord, that word Messiah has a much more specific meaning for first century Jews. Messiah means savior, but not a personal savior. Ancient prophets promised that a future Messiah would come to rescue the whole nation of Israel. A messiah is a savior, yes, but in the way that Peter uses the word, the Messiah is the savior of the whole Jewish people.


In next week’s Gospel, when we will hear of Peter’s shock and Jesus’ rejection, remember what Peter is expecting from Jesus: someone who will set the Jewish people free. He is likely not expecting to be set free from personal sins that he has committed. No, like oppressed people everywhere, Peter is dreaming of getting the empire of Rome out of his business, both his personal business and his family business.


Today’s Gospel takes place in the district of Caesarea Philippi. New Testament scholar Eric Barreto says, “The location of this event in Caesarea Philippi is no accident. Caesar’s name and the city he built hovers over the scene. Jesus’ identity is composed in the context of God’s interaction with Israel as well as the [kingly] power of Jesus’ own time. When Peter declares Jesus to be the Messiah or the anointed one of God, images of political independence are certainly in the air.”


We’re told that before he left to follow Jesus, Peter made his living by fishing, and in Roman times, the fishing economy would have been heavily taxed and controlled in oppressive ways that made it hard to get ahead or even feed one’s family, much like sharecropping once was and is in places where it still exists. It’s not a surprise that Peter has hope that deliverance has come. Next week, we’ll see Peter disappointed in what the shape of that deliverance will be. Next week, we’ll ask ourselves about our 21st century ideas about the juxtaposition of political power and Divine power.


Today’s text also asks us, implicitly, to answer the question that Jesus asks. What part does Jesus play in our lives? A guy we see once a week in church? A fellow traveler? Comforter? Savior? Co-creator of a joy-filled life? A reason for living?


Perhaps our answer is all of these things. But here’s an equally important question:
can people see who Jesus is to us by the way we live our lives? Many a theologian has said that our lives are living Gospels—and what that means is that we are testifying to people, even when we don’t open our mouths.


As we move through the semester, I’ll be paying attention to the students who have confessed, the way that Peter confessed his faith. My students will be paying attention to me, too, because I’ve told them I’m a minister here. I’ve done it in the context of how I would write the paper I’m asking them to write: important things about me: I teach, I’m a minister, I’m a poet. This semester will also be an election year, and it will be interesting to see who is confessing to which beliefs in some of the more public arenas that we have. I’ll be teaching my students the critical thinking skills to see where words match actions. And I’ll also be teaching them about the AI assistants that are ever more intrusive.


We live in a world that’s full of words, many of them empty words, a world where it’s increasingly unclear that humans are the ones generating the words. In this world of intelligence that’s often not very smart and not very humane, may our actions match our words, and may we have abundant answers to the question of who we say that Jesus is and what Jesus is doing—for us, for our community, and for the larger world.