Sermon on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

We’ve made it to Ordinary Time in the church year. We’ve made it through the preparatory seasons of Advent and Lent and the big festivals of Christmas and Easter and Pentecost, and the second half of the year has begun. We’re beginning a long season of green paraments and stories of Jesus’ life and teachings.

There’s something appropriately ordinary about our Gospel reading involving people bickering and judging and bleeding and dying. It’s all so deeply human. It may seem a little cynical, but it’s so ordinary for people to raise eyebrows at each other. For so many people, chronic illness and pain are daily companions. And none of us escape death, even as we proclaim that because of Jesus, death doesn’t have the last word.

Even after two thousand years, we’re still bickering and judging—just spend thirty seconds on social media or look at the campaign ads from this week’s election.

And as amazing as modern medicine is, there’s still so much we don’t know and don’t have treatment for. When there’s no easy fix, our society is determined to ignore illness and death. We don’t want to think about it until we have to, and our culture shame’s people who are facing illness or death into being as quiet about it as possible.

And unless you’re a disabled person with an amazing, inspirational story to make everyone around you feel good, then keep that to yourself and pull yourself up by your bootstraps, why don’t you?

And, God forbid your disability be invisible or involve mental health. It’s probably all in your head anyway, so why should anyone else care? You’re not going to be employable if you keep asking for accommodation, and if you’re not able to work, why do you even matter?

Ableism is everywhere.

And today’s Gospel reading is about healing. It’s easy to read the stories of Jesus curing people with an ableist lens. We can decide that the good news in these stories is that Jesus cures people of their injuries, disabilities, illnesses, and even death.

But when someone with unexplained symptoms hears these stories and goes to another fruitless doctor’s appointment, they might ask themselves, “Why am I not getting cured?”

And when someone with a chronic illness hears these stories, they might ask themselves, “Aren’t I beloved and enough as I am?”

And when someone whose loved one has died hears these stories, they might ask themselves, “Why didn’t God keep my loved one from dying?”

To people asking those questions, I want to say, “I’m sorry you’re not finding the answers you’re hoping for. I’m sorry you’re in pain. Of course, you’re beloved and whole and enough as you are. I’m sorry for your loss, and I hope we can hold you and journey with you in your grief.”

If we look at the whole of our Gospel reading—all four stories—we can see that Jesus did bring healing, but it wasn’t merely about the cure. Jesus was healing society through inclusion.

Our reading opens with Jesus calling a tax collector to follow him. Tax collectors were hated. They were considered collaborators with the Romans, and they were crooked on top of that, skimming a bit off the top for themselves. And yet, Jesus extended an invitation to join him.

Behavior like this was noticed. In the second story in our Gospel reading, some of the religious leaders saw Jesus eating with crooked collaborators and other undesirable people, and they pulled aside some of Jesus’ disciples to express their disapproval.

But Jesus responded that his mission was for people who knew they needed healing, not for those self-righteous enough not to know they needed help.

And then, he quoted our first reading, saying that God desires “mercy, not sacrifice.” He reminded them that Hosea’s message to God’s people was that God wasn’t impressed by religious practice if it wasn’t rooted in love for God, which, as we know from Jesus’ teachings elsewhere, is deeply connected to love for our neighbors.

Our Gospel reading skipped another story about John the Baptist’s disciples asking Jesus why other religious leaders fast and Jesus’ disciples don’t. Jesus describes himself as a bridegroom, saying it’s appropriate for his disciples to celebrate while he is with them. This, too, goes back to the Hosea quote that God wants mercy and steadfast love instead of religious practice by a people group whose heart isn’t in it.

Jesus was including the excluded among his disciples and table company, showing them the unconditional love of God. They, then, could love others as they were loved. This builds community—Beloved Community.

And these two stories are followed by two more stories—the ones we more customarily read as healing stories.

But maybe instead of focusing on the cures, we can view these stories as opportunities Jesus was given to show that mercy to the people around him.

Jesus was demonstrating how mercy mattered more than worrying about fasting the right way or who to exclude from a dinner party. And mercy wasn’t just about healing people, butinsisting that God’s family includes everyone. Everyone is needed. Everyone is important. Everyone is loved.

A colleague, Rev. Dr. Michelle Bodle, wrote an article[1] in Fidelia magazine, published by Young Clergy Women International. She wrote about a particularly difficult discussion in one of her seminary classes. A classmate had asserted that “mental illness needed to be healed in order for people to be whole.”

As someone who had been diagnosed with generalized anxiety, she understandably had been hurt by this statement.

She wrote: “When explaining this to people in everyday terms, I say I worry about everything and anything. My brain processes stimuli around me, putting me on high alert. I also believe that, for me, there is a gift in anxiety. In fact, I refer to it as my superpower. However, before explaining, let me note that this is not the case for everyone. Some people may experience anxiety as debilitating. I can only speak from my experience.”

Like she said, everyone’s experience of mental health and disability is different. Anxiety is not the same as bleeding for twelve years is not the same as anyone else’s experience. She experiences anxiety as a strength, but someone else might experience anxiety totally differently, and no one is required to look on the bright side of any situation. At the same time, no one should assume what someone else’s experience of mental illness or disability is. We’re unique.

For Rev. Dr. Bodle, she sees her anxiety as part of her wholeness, not something that detracts from it. She wrote, “I’ve tried to be a good steward of the gift of anxiety. Part of that stewardship is making sure that it doesn’t tip into being in the driver’s seat. When I think of the superheroes that I grew up with, for most of them, their greatest strength could become their greatest weakness if they weren’t careful. This means that I need to be attentive to my own moods, prioritize self-care, see a therapist, and use medication. When I neglect this posture of self-reflection, I become like the superheroes who tried to lead solely through their superpower, rather than seeing it as part of the greater whole of who they were, they could become derailed. So it is with anxiety. If I lead from an anxious place, instead of seeing this as simply part of who I am, then I can quickly lose track of the bigger picture. 

“Back in that classroom during seminary, I didn’t view anxiety as a gift or a superpower. I simply saw it as part of who I was. I bristled at the thought that I needed part of me fundamentally changed to be “whole.” I am whole, including my anxiety. It does not need to be healed or redeemed in order for me to be more fully me. I simply need to be aware of its presence and hold it gently, allowing it to speak but not lead. For me, that is the gift of anxiety.”

Again, this is her experience. Yours or your neighbor’s might be different. But our stories of healing today point to the inclusion Jesus brings—not that people need to be “cured” before being whole or healed. Jesus invites us to make society whole and healed by including and appreciating every person.

You are whole. You are worthy. You are included at God’s table. You are loved just as you are. And so is your neighbor. Thanks be to God!

[1]https://fideliamagazine.org/2026/05/28/reframing-illness-gift-of-anxiety/

Sermon on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

We’ve made it to Ordinary Time in the church year. We’ve made it through the preparatory seasons of Advent and Lent and the big festivals of Christmas and Easter and Pentecost, and the second half of the year has begun. We’re beginning a long season of green paraments and stories of Jesus’ life and teachings.

There’s something appropriately ordinary about our Gospel reading involving people bickering and judging and bleeding and dying. It’s all so deeply human. It may seem a little cynical, but it’s so ordinary for people to raise eyebrows at each other. For so many people, chronic illness and pain are daily companions. And none of us escape death, even as we proclaim that because of Jesus, death doesn’t have the last word.

Even after two thousand years, we’re still bickering and judging—just spend thirty seconds on social media or look at the campaign ads from this week’s election.

And as amazing as modern medicine is, there’s still so much we don’t know and don’t have treatment for. When there’s no easy fix, our society is determined to ignore illness and death. We don’t want to think about it until we have to, and our culture shame’s people who are facing illness or death into being as quiet about it as possible.

And unless you’re a disabled person with an amazing, inspirational story to make everyone around you feel good, then keep that to yourself and pull yourself up by your bootstraps, why don’t you?

And, God forbid your disability be invisible or involve mental health. It’s probably all in your head anyway, so why should anyone else care? You’re not going to be employable if you keep asking for accommodation, and if you’re not able to work, why do you even matter?

Ableism is everywhere.

And today’s Gospel reading is about healing. It’s easy to read the stories of Jesus curing people with an ableist lens. We can decide that the good news in these stories is that Jesus cures people of their injuries, disabilities, illnesses, and even death.

But when someone with unexplained symptoms hears these stories and goes to another fruitless doctor’s appointment, they might ask themselves, “Why am I not getting cured?”

And when someone with a chronic illness hears these stories, they might ask themselves, “Aren’t I beloved and enough as I am?”

And when someone whose loved one has died hears these stories, they might ask themselves, “Why didn’t God keep my loved one from dying?”

To people asking those questions, I want to say, “I’m sorry you’re not finding the answers you’re hoping for. I’m sorry you’re in pain. Of course, you’re beloved and whole and enough as you are. I’m sorry for your loss, and I hope we can hold you and journey with you in your grief.”

If we look at the whole of our Gospel reading—all four stories—we can see that Jesus did bring healing, but it wasn’t merely about the cure. Jesus was healing society through inclusion.

Our reading opens with Jesus calling a tax collector to follow him. Tax collectors were hated. They were considered collaborators with the Romans, and they were crooked on top of that, skimming a bit off the top for themselves. And yet, Jesus extended an invitation to join him.

Behavior like this was noticed. In the second story in our Gospel reading, some of the religious leaders saw Jesus eating with crooked collaborators and other undesirable people, and they pulled aside some of Jesus’ disciples to express their disapproval.

But Jesus responded that his mission was for people who knew they needed healing, not for those self-righteous enough not to know they needed help.

And then, he quoted our first reading, saying that God desires “mercy, not sacrifice.” He reminded them that Hosea’s message to God’s people was that God wasn’t impressed by religious practice if it wasn’t rooted in love for God, which, as we know from Jesus’ teachings elsewhere, is deeply connected to love for our neighbors.

Our Gospel reading skipped another story about John the Baptist’s disciples asking Jesus why other religious leaders fast and Jesus’ disciples don’t. Jesus describes himself as a bridegroom, saying it’s appropriate for his disciples to celebrate while he is with them. This, too, goes back to the Hosea quote that God wants mercy and steadfast love instead of religious practice by a people group whose heart isn’t in it.

Jesus was including the excluded among his disciples and table company, showing them the unconditional love of God. They, then, could love others as they were loved. This builds community—Beloved Community.

And these two stories are followed by two more stories—the ones we more customarily read as healing stories.

But maybe instead of focusing on the cures, we can view these stories as opportunities Jesus was given to show that mercy to the people around him.

Jesus was demonstrating how mercy mattered more than worrying about fasting the right way or who to exclude from a dinner party. And mercy wasn’t just about healing people, butinsisting that God’s family includes everyone. Everyone is needed. Everyone is important. Everyone is loved.

A colleague, Rev. Dr. Michelle Bodle, wrote an article[1] in Fidelia magazine, published by Young Clergy Women International. She wrote about a particularly difficult discussion in one of her seminary classes. A classmate had asserted that “mental illness needed to be healed in order for people to be whole.”

As someone who had been diagnosed with generalized anxiety, she understandably had been hurt by this statement.

She wrote: “When explaining this to people in everyday terms, I say I worry about everything and anything. My brain processes stimuli around me, putting me on high alert. I also believe that, for me, there is a gift in anxiety. In fact, I refer to it as my superpower. However, before explaining, let me note that this is not the case for everyone. Some people may experience anxiety as debilitating. I can only speak from my experience.”

Like she said, everyone’s experience of mental health and disability is different. Anxiety is not the same as bleeding for twelve years is not the same as anyone else’s experience. She experiences anxiety as a strength, but someone else might experience anxiety totally differently, and no one is required to look on the bright side of any situation. At the same time, no one should assume what someone else’s experience of mental illness or disability is. We’re unique.

For Rev. Dr. Bodle, she sees her anxiety as part of her wholeness, not something that detracts from it. She wrote, “I’ve tried to be a good steward of the gift of anxiety. Part of that stewardship is making sure that it doesn’t tip into being in the driver’s seat. When I think of the superheroes that I grew up with, for most of them, their greatest strength could become their greatest weakness if they weren’t careful. This means that I need to be attentive to my own moods, prioritize self-care, see a therapist, and use medication. When I neglect this posture of self-reflection, I become like the superheroes who tried to lead solely through their superpower, rather than seeing it as part of the greater whole of who they were, they could become derailed. So it is with anxiety. If I lead from an anxious place, instead of seeing this as simply part of who I am, then I can quickly lose track of the bigger picture. 

“Back in that classroom during seminary, I didn’t view anxiety as a gift or a superpower. I simply saw it as part of who I was. I bristled at the thought that I needed part of me fundamentally changed to be “whole.” I am whole, including my anxiety. It does not need to be healed or redeemed in order for me to be more fully me. I simply need to be aware of its presence and hold it gently, allowing it to speak but not lead. For me, that is the gift of anxiety.”

Again, this is her experience. Yours or your neighbor’s might be different. But our stories of healing today point to the inclusion Jesus brings—not that people need to be “cured” before being whole or healed. Jesus invites us to make society whole and healed by including and appreciating every person.

You are whole. You are worthy. You are included at God’s table. You are loved just as you are. And so is your neighbor. Thanks be to God!

[1]https://fideliamagazine.org/2026/05/28/reframing-illness-gift-of-anxiety/

Sermon on Matthew 28:16-20

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Today is Trinity Sunday, a day when we examine easily the most confusing part of Christian doctrine.

People have fought aboutthe Trinity since its conceptualization. The Church has split over and over again over disagreements about it.

We talked in our Creed study last fall about the split that divided the Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches in 1054 CE. Christians disagreed about whether the Holy Spirit “proceeds from the Father” or “from the Father and the Son.”

It was just at last year’sChurchwide Assembly that the ELCA formally voted to receive a statement between the Lutheran World Federation and the Orthodox Church that says the filioque (the part in the Nicene Creed that says “and the Son”) need not be a church-dividing issue.

People have argued about the Trinity since the early Church. The doctrine of the Trinity is not specifically outlined in the Bible. It’s the way Christians in the first few hundred years of the Church came to understand the relationship between God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, who are all specifically named in the Gospels, like in our reading from Matthew today.

It’s easy to argue over, because the Bible’s not super specific about what we should believe about it.

There’s a lot the Bible isn’t super specific about.

In our Gospel reading, when Jesus gave instructions to make disciples and baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the disciples didn’t have much time to ask clarifying questions.

Their time with Jesus physically present in bodily form was coming to an end. He led them to a mountain and gave them some final instructions.

Their mission was urgent. Jesus named his authority and gave them what has become known as the Great Commission: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

They didn’t get to ask whether the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father or the Father and the Son. Or the nature of Jesus’ divinity and humanity. Or even whether full immersion was required for baptism or if merely sprinkling water was fine.

They had a job to do, and a pretty daunting one at that. They were to carry Jesus’ message to the whole world.

The future of Jesus’ ministry was in their hands.

While I’m sure they would have loved the opportunity to ask questions, it’s interesting to note what Jesus didn’t leave them.

He didn’t leave them a treatise on the doctrine of the Trinity or a schematic or even a doodle explaining what Christians have been excommunicating each other over for centuries.

He didn’t leave them with a huge list of “thou shalt nots.” He didn’t say, “Be sure not to cuss or play cards or, when they come out with something called ‘R-rated movies,’—be sure not to watch any of those.”

And while, I’m sure the disciples would have appreciated some more detailed instructions for how to carry Jesus’ message throughout the world, Jesus didn’t give them a five-phase strategic plan for how to do it.

He left room for them to co-create with the Holy Spirit how exactly they would spread the Good News, make disciples, baptize them, and teach them the Way of Jesus.

It was less about “do it exactly this way or else” and more about “remember what I’ve been teaching you for the past three years and bring your own unique selves to how you love the world.”

And of course, his final words to them were: “remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

He probably knew they felt overwhelmed by the mission in front of them, and he reassured them that he would always be with them. If they remembered nothing else, that was enough.

As important as the doctrine of the Trinity is for how we understand God—the relationships within Godself and our relationship with God—it’s God’s presence that will get us through.

If the Trinity feels too abstract, remember our first reading. God—all aspects of Godself were present and active in Creation.God created, swept over the waters, spoke the world into existence, named things, blessedvarious parts of creation, and enjoyed and rested in it.

That same God continues to create alongside us. That same God promised to be with us always. That same creative Spirit fills and enlivens us every day.

God was present In the Beginning. God was present in the story of Jesus’ life. God was and is present in the Church’s story. And God is present in our stories too.

God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer; whatever your favorite expression of the Trinity is—God is with you always, to the end of the age.

And because of that, we get to share that Good News with those God puts in our path.

It’s not a matter of “winning souls for Jesus”—Jesus already took care of that.

We simply get to share with others what brings us to life.

If you’re moved by the way Caring Hands shows God’s abundant love to our neighbors, tell someone.

If you have a hymn from this morning stuck in your head later this week or you hear a song on the radio that reminds you of God’s love, share that with someone.

Even if you’re wrestling with faith right now, you don’t have to be quiet about that. It means it’s something that matters to you. We don’t spend time thinking about things we don’t care about. Sharing your doubts with someone shows your humanness and your passion around the big questions of life. Share your questions—let someone wrestle with them alongside you.

These are ways we start conversations. We don’t have to have a perfect script for convincing people that God is real or well-rehearsed answers to every possible question. We can just show in small ways that we’re safe people to talk to about things that matter.

That’s one small way we can co-create with God a world with more love, caring, and openness.

Making disciples isn’t about getting people into line. It’s about inviting them into the joy and maybe the doubts that fill your heart.It’s powerful when you show people your true self.

No matter what, God is with you, to the end of the age.

That’s Good News worth sharing.