The Seminarian Wins a Senate Primary

I am not the seminarian who won the primary--that would be James Talarico, who came to seminary with a wealth of education and experience: an M.Ed from Harvard, a stint with Teach for America, and time in state level politics.  News reports call him a seminarian, but he's earned the MDiv.  Maybe he's like me, an MDiv but still tasks to do before ordination.

I've done a bit of internet searching, and I can't tell what kind of Presbyterian church he's from, the more conservative branch or the more liberal one.  From his comments, it sounds like the more liberal one, but I did hear one commenter say that it wasn't the PCUSA branch, which I think is the most liberal.

I think of his candidacy committee.  Is the U.S. Senate a mission field?  Can he be ordained to serve the Senate?

If he wins the election, does his desire to be a minister change?  Is this something he'll do later?  The U.S. Senate doesn't seem like a bivocational fit.

Most of all, I am happy that someone with a gentler religious view can be a viable candidate.  We need more people with gentler views, but those of us with gentler views don't have the political scaffolding and resources that we would need.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 8, 2026:

First Reading: Exodus 17:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 95

Second Reading: Romans 5:1-11

Gospel: John 4:5-42

If you didn't read much of the Bible, you might assume that Samaritans are good people; after all, wasn't the only person who stopped to help the traveler who was assaulted and left for dead, wasn't that person a Samaritan?

Yes, and that's part of the point of the story that many of us miss. Church officials didn't stop to help. The only person who did stop to help was one of the lowest people in the social stratosphere.

Actually, today's Gospel introduces us to one lower, a Samaritan woman. We know that she has low status because she's a Samaritan and because she's coming to the well later in the day. It would have been the custom to come early in the morning to socialize, and the fact that she doesn't come then speaks volumes; she's an outcast among outcasts. She's a woman in a patriarchal society and part of a group (Samaritans) who have almost no social status. It would only be worse if she was a prostitute or a slave.

Yet, Jesus has a long conversation with her, the longest that he has with anyone recorded in the New Testament. Here, again this week, Jesus is in Mystic mode. She asks questions, and he gives her complex answers.

But unlike Nicodemus, she grasps his meaning immediately. And she believes. She goes back to her city and spreads the good news. And her fellow citizens believe her and follow her back to follow Jesus. Notice how she has gone from isolation to community.

Jesus preaches to them and seems to include them, complete outsiders, in his vision of the Kingdom. Hence the good news: Jesus came for us all.

In this Gospel, we see an essential vision of a messiah who will spend time with people who are completely outcast. We are never too lost for God. We don't have to improve ourselves to win salvation. God doesn't tell us that we'll win love if we just lose ten pounds or pray more often or work one more night in the soup kitchen or give away fifty more dollars a week to worthy charities.

Jesus doesn't send the Samaritan woman back to town until he's made a connection with her. He doesn't say, "Hey, if you're at a well at noon, you must be a real slut, if the women won't even let you come to the well with them in the morning. Mend your slutty ways, and maybe I'll let you be part of my vision for the Kingdom."

No, he spends time with her and that's how he wins her over. He knows that humans can't change themselves in the hopes of some kind of redemption; we can’t even lose 10 pounds in time for our class reunion, much less make the substantial changes that will take us into a healthier older age.

However, Jesus knows the path to true change; he knows that humans are more likely to change if they feel like God loves them and wants to be with them just the way they are. Jesus comes to say, “You’ve lived in the land of self-loathing long enough. Sit with me and talk about what matters.”

That treatment might be enough to motivate us to behave like we are the light of the world.

Recording of Sunday Sermon

Yesterday was a good day at Faith Lutheran:  a good Confirmation class, engaged worship, and a visit to a sick parishioner in the hospital afterward.  If you're not ready to let Sunday go, if you need a sermon that offers some hope of moving out of the shadows of fear and into the light of something new and redemptive, the sermon that I preached on Sunday morning is here on my YouTube channel. If you want to read along, here's the blog post where I put the manuscript.

Sermon for Sunday, March 1, 2026

March 1, 2026

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



John 3: 1-17

When I was much, much younger, there was a bumper sticker that I saw on many a car in Montgomery, Alabama in the 1970’s. It was bright yellow, and black letters simply said, “John 3: 16.” So of course, I looked up the Bible verse: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” As a child, I still didn’t understand why it was worthy of a bumper sticker. And as I’ve gotten older, and seen the verse move from bumper stickers to billboards to spray painted graffiti to tattoos on the bodies of sports professionals and others, I’m still perplexed.



Of all the Bible verses that people are likely to know by heart, this is one of them. Consequently, as with many a thing taken out of context, many people think they understand what the verse is saying, that this is all they need to know to be a Christian. However, when we look at the full text, we begin to see the larger implications, something that will never fit on the bumper of a car. But we need to know so much more than this one verse. Luther was not the first or the last to warn us of the folly of choosing just one verse and thinking that we understand the whole Bible based on our understanding of one small piece.


We get this Bible verse in the middle of a teaching. Nicodemus has come to Jesus. He’s a shadowy figure. We see Nicodemus here at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, and we’ll see him at the end, when he buys burial spices for Jesus, many more times than is needed and of a very high quality.


I say that Nicodemus is shadowy in part because there’s a whole middle story of conversion that we don’t get, the middle in between today’s Gospel and Nicodemus at the end of the life of Jesus—what happens in the in between time? What happened to transform him from a man of many doubts and questions into that person who will spend a small fortune on burial spices? And does the act of buying burial spices signify that Nicodemus has come to understand what Jesus tries to teach him in today’s Gospel reading? Perhaps he is like Martha, who Christ tries to teach, who also had an in between time that we don’t witness, but we see a profound change from her first experience with Jesus to her later one, a change from someone who doesn’t understand Jesus to someone who is vital to the ministry. Those of us who work in the field of education in any way probably have this same hope for those lives we encounter, that hope for transformation to the better.


I also use the wordy shadowy because his behavior seems suspicious. Why does he come to Jesus at night? Traditionally, many readers, scholars and non-professionals alike, assume that Nicodemus comes at night because he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s there. But there’s nothing explicit in the text to support that view. Nicodemus doesn’t explain his late appearance, and Jesus doesn’t ask or even seem surprised. Maybe it’s not the issue for them that we have been taught.


We’re told that Nicodemus is “a leader of the Jews.” Maybe he comes at night because he’s busy during the day, busy with leadership duties and commitments. Maybe it’s the only time the crowds go away, and he has his chance to ask his questions and have Jesus answer them without him having to wait his turn.


He asks his questions, and Jesus doesn’t dismiss him with bumper sticker sized slogans—here we see two men with very different life purposes and understandings of the world, but they take each other seriously, not dismissively or combatively. However in this encounter with Nicodemus, Jesus doesn’t explain what he means in a way that Nicodemus understands. He answers the questions of a mystified Nicodemus with more mysteries. (relatable modern example from teaching)


Those people who put John 3:16 on bumper stickers or other places—could they explain this mystical chunk of text that surrounds the verse? I doubt it. We’ve had thousands of years of scholars trying to puzzle out the mystic threads, and we don’t have agreement on what it means. For example, most people hear the term “eternal life,” and their minds leap to an afterlife of some sort, which would have been a fairly new concept at the time of Jesus, afterlife as a place that is pleasant or a reward. Bible scholars can and do spend many pages parsing out all the different ways we could interpret the phrase “eternal life.”


Maybe Jesus is just as confused with Nicodemus as Nicodemus is with Jesus—how can Nicodemus not understand? Isn’t he a leader of the Jews? It may be precisely because he’s a Pharisee that he doesn’t understand. He’s spent a lot of time with texts trying to parse out the answers to these questions, questions about eternal life, questions about signs that signify the presence of God, deep and meaningful questions about how to live a deep and meaningful life. But what he hears from Jesus is completely foreign and contradictory to his beliefs. Rather than dismiss it, Nicodemus continues to reflect on what he has heard.


I picture Nicodemus, his brain aching, his spirit weary from interacting with his fellow Pharisees, and he says, “Well, what about this new teacher? Let’s go and see what he says. Maybe he can give me the straight forward answer.” Jesus does not give the understandable answers that Nicodemus must have been hoping for. We, too, have an expectation of the type of explanation that will work with our learning style, whether that be emotional appeal, snarkiness, humor, or a clearly articulated and well reasoned argument.


We are probably more like Nicodemus than most of us want to acknowledge. Like Nicodemus, we have spent a goodly portion of our waking hours trying to figure out what the ancient texts tell us about how to live a good life. We have made some assumptions. We have felt the emotional power. We have appreciated wit and insults. We have drawn some conclusions. We might feel confused when we mix the ancient teaching with more current wisdom which often makes no more sense than the ancient wisdom. How we yearn for Jesus to sum it all up for us!


Many see John 3:16 as that summary, a verse containing the whole Gospel in one simple sentence. But the Bible is too complex to be summed up in one sentence. You may remember that I, too, fell into this trap in a recent children’s sermon when quoting from the famous rabbi who summed up the entire Bible standing on one foot, saying “Love God, Love neighbor.” Many people might tell us that all of Jesus’ ministry can be summed up in this one verse or that other verse. Again, that might be so, but it leaves out so much essential information. Like Nicodemus, we want more and hopefully want a fuller, more complex and meaningful understanding of this verse.


We have many centuries, too many centuries, of people offering this verse as a summary of what Christianity means and how we should respond. Want eternal life? Just believe in Jesus. The shadow side of this approach to this text is how it has often been interpreted: that everyone who doesn’t believe is headed to Hell.


In a text that is so difficult to understand with our heads and not our hearts, it’s fascinating to think about how this one verse, plucked out of context, has become the hammer with which we clobber any questions. No room for doubt here: believe or you don’t get eternal life. Note that this is not what is said here. Believe and receive is NOT equivalent to don’t believe and you won’t receive.


What if this verse is not a command, but an invitation?


In this passage, Jesus does not say that everyone who doesn’t believe in him does not get eternal life. But he does say that opening our hearts and minds to the new possibilities offered by Jesus will leave us open and ready for rebirth. It won’t be like a bumper sticker, all tidy and summed up by the fewest words possible. And it’s not all about what happens to us when we die. It’s not about judgment, but about wind blowing in mysterious ways. It’s about being open to a reconsideration of even the fundamentals of our beliefs with a pure and open curiosity.


The winds of the Spirit clearly blew through Nicodemus. We don’t know what happens in Nicodemus’ in between time, exactly, but by the end of the book of John, Nicodemus has left the shadows and lives in a different light. Jesus invites us, too, to move from the shadows of whatever scares or threatens us, whatever keeps our minds, spirits, and hearts closed to understanding others. Jesus invites us to move out of our heads and to act with our hearts.


When we move away from loyalty to a bumper sticker mentality to an open, genuinely curious desire to understand the hearts of others, and the heart of God, we can, like Martha and Nicodemus, be re-born to a new and more meaningful and more faithful understanding. Let us pray that we can more forward to this understanding in our in between times as well—as individuals, a community of faith, and in our world.

The First Fish Fry of the Season

Yesterday afternoon, I finished teaching, drove from Spartanburg to Arden, where I live, and then, after changing clothes, drove from Arden to Bristol, Tennessee, where I am a part-time minister at Faith Lutheran.  Last night was the first of four spring fish fry events.

People pay $10 for a wonderful plate of food:  fish (fried or baked), mac-and-cheese, pierogies and caramelized onions, cole slaw, green beans, rolls, and an amazing assortment of desserts and drinks.  I use the word amazing because I know how many members we have and how many desserts we offer, and that means people are making a lot of dessert.

All of the money goes to local charities, primarily the local ones that deal with hunger.  But people come for the food.  That's what I thought until last night.

We arrived at 4:45, and the event was supposed to start at 5.  When we got there, people were already there, waiting for food.  Many of the people who came were so excited to be there.  They love the food, but more than that, they love the chance to sit and reconnect with neighbors from across the community (and a few of them are reconnecting with literal neighbors).

We had a steady stream of people coming and going, with almost every place in the smallish fellowship hall occupied for the first 80 minutes of the event.  We ran out of cole slaw, but we didn't run out of desserts.  

I thought about how past Kristin would have viewed this event.  She would have wondered why we were having this event, when so many people who come already have a church home.  She would have looked at the amazing amount of work that it takes to put on this event, and she would have suggested that we donate a chunk of money instead of buying the food and cooking it and selling plates.

But current Kristin has a glimmer of a different way of thinking about this.  People are hungry for community.  They want to have a chance to reconnect with people who live in the same geographical area.  They care less about people's religious or political beliefs.

I realize that what I observed last night may be more true in small towns than in big urban centers.  But I suspect that even in the big cities, people are longing for the kind of connection that a fish fry event can give them.

The Third Testament

I found it interesting that in the same week I wrote about being the fifth Gospel in this blog post, I saw a Facebook post about how we are the third Testament.  I saw it in a post by Wil Gafney, who credits Bishop Yvette Flunder.

As with being the Fifth Gospel, I find the idea that human lives are a walking testimony or history an intriguing one.  I've said/written it before, in many a setting, that for many people, they will learn more about Christianity from watching believers and their behavior than more traditional ways, like growing up in the faith or attending worship and/or classes. Our behavior needs to match what we say we believe, or people simply are not going to ask us to know more.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 1, 2026:

First Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a

Psalm: Psalm 121

Second Reading: Romans 4:1-5, 13-17

Gospel: John 3:1-17

It's always interesting to come across a familiar verse in context. John 3:16 is one of those verses that many people can quote. And yet, we're at the end of centuries of disagreement about what it means. Does it mean that Jesus had to be crucified as a sacrifice for our sins, as many Christians will tell you? Does it mean that Jesus came to show us a different way of life, thus saving us, as many people uncomfortable with a sacrificial Jesus would have us believe? Does it mean that Jesus is the only way to the Divine? What about people who will never hear about Jesus? Will they go to Hell when they die?

John is the most mystical of the Gospels, and not surprisingly, Jesus acts as a mystic in this episode with Nicodemus, who asks Jesus serious questions, as a scholar would, and Jesus seems to give him nonsense answers about being born again.

Read what Jesus says again, and imagine how frustrating it must have been for Nicodemus. It's frustrating for me, and I come from a tradition that would be happy to explain it to me. I can talk about the ideas of Martin Luther with the best of them, the small and large Catechisms, and yet, Jesus seems to be offering mystical babble here.

These are the passages that I hate discussing with the confused and the non-believers. How to explain these mystical concepts?

Maybe we don't have to explain. I take part in all sorts of mysteries that I can't explain. I don't understand internal combustion engines, but I drive my car anyway, and I have faith that it will work. I can't explain how electricity is generated or how it powers all the things that make my life easy, but that doesn't stop me from turning on the lights when it's dark.

Advent and Lent are two times of the liturgical year when I am most conscious that I'm participating in a mystery--and therefore, I can't explain everything, especially not to the satisfaction of non-believers. I can't even explain it to me. As Jesus says, "The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with every one who is born of the Spirit."

I have faith in being born again, although I might define that differently than my fundamentalist friends. Each day is like a new opportunity, a new birth, a new chance to re-align myself towards God. Each day, God wants to come live with me, and each day, I get to decide whether or not that will happen. Even if I go through a period of not living as mindfully as I'd like, I can start again, whenever I choose. Like liturgical season of Advent, Lent reminds us of the need to turn and return to God.