Page likes: 570
Faith Lutheran Erie
(opens in a new tab)Service Times: Saturday 6:00 pm (outside June-Aug) ~ Sunday 8:00 am and 10:15 am ~ Sunday School 9:00
A gentle blessing for late summer, inspired by a poem by the late writer and environmentalist Wendell Berry.
This content isn't available right now
When this happens, it's usually because the owner only shared it with a small group of people, changed who can see it or it's been deleted.
Katie goes to church. She really likes sitting in on Monday morning Bible study. The welcome sign is for the Preschool!
Here is the sermon for the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, on Mt. 16:21-28 & Rom. 12:9-21, for August 30, 2026: Set your mind not on human things, but on the things of God. Jesus is hard on Peter because he can’t accept that the Messiah will need to suffer and die. Peter is still thinking in human terms. He can’t even wrap his head around these mysterious and difficult divine things. I feel a lot of sympathy for the man. Of course he doesn’t want his beloved friend to deliberately head to his own death. If someone I loved was talking like that, I would push back, too. On top of that, what Jesus says simply doesn’t fit with everything Peter believes about the Messiah. He is supposed to be strong, a national symbol, a new king, a warrior for liberation. He’s not supposed to be a victim or a martyr. Peter is dealing with some major cognitive dissonance here. He’s going to need some time to process all this suffering and death stuff. That last little but crucial bit about being raised on the third day probably hasn’t even sunk in. Not so long ago, Jesus had praised Peter as a rock of faith; now, he calls him a hindrance, an adversary, a stumbling block, a blockhead. Then Jesus calls all of us disciples to follow him in this difficult, counterintuitive way of the cross. Deny ourselves? Lose our lives for Jesus’ sake? As Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously said, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” This is a hard ask. Our natural instinct is for self-preservation. We enjoy our creature comforts. We believe in self-fulfillment. It’s tough to accept that true self-fulfillment might mean getting our own selves out of the way. But what if that is the way that leads to true and abundant life? Sometimes, followers of Jesus are called to literally sacrifice their lives, whether for love of the truth or love of others. It’s uncomfortable to admit, but that possibility is always going to be on the table. More often, dying to self means banishing our own wants and desires to make room for God’s will. It means not living for yourself, but living for the sake of others. It means letting go of our all-too-human preoccupations and letting our hearts and minds be filled with the things of God. Seventeen hundred years ago, a wise monk named Abba Anthony lived alone in the desert, where he spent his time in prayer and manual labor. A brother came and asked him how he should live in order to please God. Anthony answered: Wherever you are, always have God before your eyes; whatever you do, do what follows the holy scriptures, and in whatever place you live, do not easily leave it. Keep these three teachings and you will be saved. Another time, another monk came and asked Anthony, what ought I to do? He answered: Don’t trust in your own righteousness, don’t worry about the past, and control your tongue and your stomach. I would say this is all still pretty good advice for how to lose your false self and find your truest and best life. Personally, I love those desert fathers. But if crusty old guys in the desert don’t float your boat, I think today’s reading from Romans is really helpful. Paul explains in very concrete, down-to-earth terms what it looks like to let go of human things and seek after the things of God. It basically boils down to love one another: Hold fast to what is good. Reject what is evil. Go out of your way to honor one another. Live in hope. Hang in there when times are hard. Keep on praying. Be generous to the poor; be hospitable to strangers. Live in harmony; don’t pretend to be wiser than you are. I’m not saying any of this comes easy; these are all things we keep practicing for a lifetime. I usually do okay with rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep, but blessing my enemies? Refraining from fantasies of revenge? Living peaceably with everybody? Even though all this is hard, Paul tells us to do it anyway. That verse about heaping burning coals on the heads of your enemies can be confusing and kind of disturbing. Paul is quoting Proverbs here; in both cases, it is presented as a good thing to do. The intent is not to torture your enemy with third-degree burns. The goal is not punishment, but to inspire repentance, figuratively, to kill them with kindness. Giving burning coals to your enemy is parallel to feeding them if they’re hungry and giving them drink if they’re thirsty. The idea here is if your neighbor’s fire goes out, they come to you for help, and you scoop up some live embers from your own firepit and pack them up in a clay jar for your neighbor to take back home. It’s the equivalent of giving them some matches or letting them borrow your lighter. The bottom line is that out of love, you help anyone in need. You do this whether or not you think they are a jerk, whether or not you approve of them. You do the right thing and leave the judgment to God. You overcome evil with good. Now, if St. Paul is still too crusty for you, and you’re still trying to figure out what it looks like to seek after the things of God, well, you could do a lot worse than looking to the example of Dolly Parton. Not necessarily the nails and the rhinestones and the blond wigs and all, although if that works for you, go for it. I mean her astonishing generosity and kindness. I’m talking about the woman who gave away over 330 million children’s books and invested in vaccine research and Appalachian disaster relief, the superstar who had the humility to laugh at herself and honor her backwoods roots, the woman who showed so much grace and refrained from judging and treated everybody like a human being. That woman sang like an angel and pretty much lived like a saint. Her love was genuine and she held fast to what is good. Truly, you could do a lot worse. I can imagine Paul and Anthony and Dolly hanging out together at a party in heaven. I wish I could listen in on their conversation. And I would love to hear that trio sing. Amen. Rev. Jean N. Kuebler, August 27, 2026
The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky proclaims its maker’s handiwork! (Ps. 19:1) You might want to stay up (or get up) to admire the lunar eclipse tonight. The weather forecast looks like mostly clear skies for tonight.
Near-Total Lunar Eclipse Will Turn Moon Blood Red
www.nytimes.com
People in the Americas, Africa and Europe will have a chance to see Earth’s shadow create a near-total blood moon.
Here is the sermon for the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, on Isaiah 51:1-6, for August 23, 2026: The prophet Isaiah was speaking to people who had been forcibly displaced. They had been taken from their homes and the land that they loved to a place where they were strangers in a strange land. The things that were most sacred to them had been defaced and destroyed. The Babylonian exile was a long time ago, but whole populations are still displaced because of war or greed or political conflict or religious strife. Others are displaced by wildfire or drought or rising sea levels. People often have to give up the things and places that have given purpose and meaning to their lives. If this has not been your personal experience, I bet it’s part of your family history. We are a nation of immigrants, after all. Migration and exile are a common human story. Isaiah’s original audience had endured profound disorientation and disappointment. They weren’t sure who they were anymore, or if they still had a future. They wondered if God had abandoned them, or if God still cared. You don’t have to be dragged into exile to feel abandonment and anxiety and confusion. You don’t have to be dragged into exile to have a crisis of faith. Ordinary grief can stir up all those feelings, whether it’s grief at the death of a loved one or the ending of a marriage or the loss of a job or a scary diagnosis. I’m thinking that Isaiah might also have a good word for us. We too are used to disappointment. Before the Israelites could imagine their future, they had to remember where they came from. The prophet exhorts them to think back, beyond their recent trauma. Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and the quarry from which you were dug. In other words, go way back. Dig deep. Remember your origins. Remember the stories that still shape who you are. In secular terms, that might mean going back to the founding documents that define who we are as Americans, going back to the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, to all that stuff about unalienable rights, including life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Happiness, by the way, does not mean doing whatever floats your boat and makes you feel good; for the founders, it meant character, virtue, the pursuit of moral excellence. In spiritual terms, looking to the rock from which you were hewn means going back to Genesis, specifically, back to Abraham and Sarah, our ancestors in the faith. God told them to get up and go and leave everything they knew behind, remember? God promised to lead them to a new home and a future full of blessing. They didn’t know where or when or how. They just trusted and followed. God promised them descendants as numerous as the stars, even though they were well beyond childbearing years and they weren’t getting any younger. It seemed impossible, but God did what God said. Abraham and Sarah answered God’s call and trusted God’s promise. This is God’s message for the discouraged exiles and for us: Listen for God’s call and trust God’s promise. Who you are and who you will be doesn’t depend on your accomplishments—thank goodness. It depends on who God is, and God is faithful. You are not defined by your suffering and disappointments. You are defined by God’s future. You may not be able to see it yet, but God can. Even when our lives feel like a wasteland, God is already beginning to do a new thing in our midst. The barren places of your lives will become like a fruitful garden, God says to us. The wilderness of your broken hearts will become like a new Eden. Your songs of lament will be turned into songs of joy and gladness. We put our trust in so many things that are not God. Families, homes, careers, relationships, market forces, governments, religious and cultural institutions. Even when these things are good and life-giving, they don’t last forever. Isaiah puts it rather bluntly: the earth will wear out like a garment, and those who live on it will die like gnats. But God’s salvation will be forever, and God’s deliverance will never end. I think it is clear where we should put our ultimate trust. The prophet reminds us to place our hope in God alone. We do that by remembering our best and deepest roots, and by looking forward in faith to a future that God has already begun. God promises that our story does not end in disappointment, but in comfort and flourishing and joy. That is good news. Amen. Rev. Jean N. Kuebler, August 20, 2026
We offer our prayers and condolences to the family and friends of John Berry, who died on Aug. 18. His funeral service will be Wednesday, August 26 at 12 noon at Faith, with visitation one hour prior.
John William Berry Obituary - Erie Times-News
www.goerie.com
John William Berry, age 93, of Harborcreek, passed away peacefully on Tuesday, August 18, 2026, surrounded by his loving family. He was born in...
Check out the spiffy new paint job on our sheds. Thank you, Paul Anderson!
Marty Johnson's Celebration of Life service will be this Saturday, August 22, 11:00 a.m. at Faith, with a fellowship meal immediately following. We give thanks for her faithfulness and offer heartfelt condolences to her family and friends. Well done, good and faithful servant!
Marnita (Marty) Rose Matson Johnson Obituary - Erie Times-News
www.goerie.com
Marty Johnson passed away on December 28, 2025 in Jacksonville, Florida. Born May 23 1942 in Buffalo, NY. Daughter of the late John T Matson Jr....
Here is the sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, on Mt. 15:21-28, for August 16, 2026: A couple of weeks ago I saw an Israeli film about a young Palestinian boy from the West Bank who longs to see the Mediterranean. He had missed out on his class field trip to the seaside because his identity papers were not found to be in order, and he was kicked off the school bus. Later, he runs away to try and reach the sea on his own. This is a foolish and dangerous thing to do. He travels through territory where most of the people look on him with suspicion and do not speak his language. Not only that; without the right papers and permissions, his journey is illegal. Along the way, he keeps meeting kind strangers in unexpected places. A pair of construction workers gives him directions to the bus station and a snack. An older woman pays his bus fare when he only has cash instead of the required smart card. One woman teaches him how to say “excuse me, where is the sea?” in Hebrew. A burly, punked-out, scary-looking teenager at a bus stop protects him from a group of bullies. The boy almost succeeds in his quest. Maybe you have also been surprised by the kindness of strangers when you were an outsider. Or maybe some person who often offends you because of their politics or identity or appearance surprises you with a word of wisdom. Sometimes, we are able to see beyond our stereotypes and discern the humanity and dignity of the person we thought was beneath our notice. This is what happens to Jesus in today’s gospel. For whatever reason, Jesus decides to go to the seaside, into the foreign territory of Tyre and Sidon. He is the stranger here, the one who doesn’t speak the native language or worship the local gods. He and his friends are the ones who would need help with the local currency and who would need to ask for directions to the beach. This Jewish rabbi and his Jewish followers are on enemy turf, in the homeland of the Philistines, their ancient geopolitical rivals. It is astonishing that the Canaanite woman knows who Jesus is, and even more astonishing that she approaches him for help. This woman has chutzpah; she is bold and assertive. Because she is so desperate to save her demon-tormented daughter, she is willing to take a risk and defy social conventions. Since when does a woman approach a strange man, much less a foreigner? Somehow, she sees through the stereotypes and sees Jesus for who he is. She calls him Lord and Son of David. She knows he has the power to help her. It is troubling that Jesus seems to ignore her. I know, maybe he’s testing her faith. Or maybe he’s got a lot on his mind. Maybe he’s hangry. Maybe he’s just not interested in seeing beyond the stereotypes right now; maybe he truly believes that she is just not his problem, because she is not one of the lost sheep of the house of Israel. The disciples certainly don’t see the humanity of this woman nor care about her need; they think she is nothing but a nuisance and want Jesus to order her away. But she refuses to be dismissed. She throws herself at his feet and begs for help. The phrase translated here as “she knelt before him” could equally well be translated as “she worshipped him”. She has just heard him tell the disciples that she falls outside the parameters of his mission, that she is not his problem. Yet she insists on being seen. What Jesus says to her next sounds pretty insulting: It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs. He implies that there is not enough food and healing and life to go around, that good things are only for some and not for all. And yes, he implies that she is no better than some starving mongrel on the street. He basically calls her a dog. This is not Jesus at his divine best; this is Jesus letting his messy humanity show, and that can be a little uncomfortable. We prefer Jesus meek and mild to cranky Jesus. The woman does not slink away in shame; she pushes back and owns the insult: “Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s tables.” Here, the last and best verse inexplicably vanished from our printed bulletins. So let me read it for you again: “Jesus answered her: ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish’. And her daughter was healed from that moment.” Jesus finally acknowledges her humanity and her need. He finally sees her with compassion. He even praises her persistence; her great faith stands in ironic contrast to the chronic “little faith” of his own disciples. It is all too human to judge and exclude others, to depend on stereotypes and to see the world in black and white, us and them, good and bad. It has been said that whenever we try to draw a circle to separate us from them, Jesus is always going to be on the other side of the line. As long as someone is still outside the circle, Jesus is going to stand with the outsider and challenge us to draw a bigger circle. I find it comforting in today’s gospel that Jesus is human enough to struggle with the boundaries and that he is divine enough to make the circle larger. I think it is good news that Jesus revises his mission plan to include foreigners and ancient enemies. It takes courage for him to show mercy to this persistent woman. It is a leap of faith for him to recognize her great faith. Imagine a world in which we all could see the humanity of every single other person. Imagine a world in which we all responded with mercy. May it be so. Amen. Rev. Jean N. Kuebler, August 13, 2026
