Rev. Don Erickson

I grew up for the majority of my childhood in the small city of Hudson, New York. But when I was 14 years-old and about to enter high school, my parents moved from our urban neighborhood in Hudson to the boondock town of Earlton, New York. Earlton sounds like a town in the boonies. I mean, the difference between Hudson and Earlton was night and day. Eventually, I grew to love the rural landscape and the woods. My love of poetry began there in Earlton, walking in the woods and sitting in front of the pond down the hill. However, one of the most harrowing experiences of my adolescence happened there in the Catskill foothill town. I was 15 years old. The summer of 1986. One late summer’s day I took a walk in the woods, further than I ever had. I went so far that, you guessed it, I got lost. I mean really lost. A “I have no compass and it was getting dark” kind of lost. I began to panic, I’ll be honest. I kept walking, not knowing where to. The feeling of being lost, there’s little else th...

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid.  People do not light a lamp and put it under the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:14-16) Our two readings seem contradictory. Jesus in the gospel of John says, I am the light of the world. Jesus in the gospel of Matthew speaking to his followers says, you are the light of the world.  Well, what is it? Is Jesus the light of the world or are his followers the light? First and foremost, Jesus is the light of the world. Now, not everyone sees this light yet. But my faith says, in the end, all will see that Light and as Philippians 2 tells us, every knee...

This morning’s reading hides some information that is important to understand in order to understand the reading as a whole. There are several meals mentioned. A Sabbath meal, a wedding banquet, a luncheon and a dinner banquet. There’s something in common across these 4 meals. They are special, not your run-of-the-mill meals. The Sabbath meal was extra festive compared to meals during the week. A wedding banquet of course is festive by nature. A luncheon in this context is considered the best meal of the day. A regular banquet too is festive by nature.  We are not talking about making a sandwich for friends or throwing a tuna casserole together for the family coming over later. We are talking a big, festive meal where you invite a lot of folks. Festive parties with big meals included is the context of our text.  So Jesus is at a Sabbath meal, the most elaborate meal of the week. This is at a Pharisee leader’s house. Must have been an extra elaborate party.  Who’d be at th...

  So, instead of an intro meant to grab your attention, I’m going to trust you’re already attentive and get right to the text. There are 3 points and an application I’d like to share with you. My first point: the key to Jesus’s ministry of healing is his ministry of attentiveness and presence.  Our healing story from Luke 13 is one of a number of healing stories where Jesus first notices someone struggling, suffering, at wit’s end, and either calls them over as we see in Luke 13 or goes over himself to give that person his undivided attention.  Often, we’ll see the refrain moved by compassion in these kinds of stories. Christ’s ministry of presence precedes his ministry of healing. They go together. So, Jesus sees the crippled woman, and while it doesn’t state this, compassion must have welled up in him. He calls her over and they interact.  Yes, there’s power in intention. If our intention is deep enough, it has effects on our actions. But we shouldn’t forget about ...

I’ve always loved lullabies. My mom has confirmed how as a toddler I’d let it be known that I liked “that other one.”  Not that one, That other one: From the youngest of ages, I preferred Brahm’s lullaby. Still do. I’m sure my mother singing me off to sleep began my love of not just lullabies but music in general. As a kid, hymns and lullabies went together. Along with those classic lullabies, my mom also sing hymns and praise songs, and carols at Christmas time. My mom also prayed with me. A simple, prayerful refrain she often said and still says comes from our Gospel reading this morning, “Peace, be still.” That refrain is its own kind of lullaby. The link between Christian faith and lullabies, sometimes called cradle songs, goes way, way back. When you think about it, the Christian faith’s two most central figures have infant tales. There’s baby Moses and his story of being secured in a basket and placed in the Nile to be adopted and raised by the Pharoah’s daughter. The movie P...

My mom is profoundly faithful. She struggles with Parkinson’s, her body has gotten weak, her frame as skinny as can be, her muscle control very limited. But her faith, it is as strong as ever. Her life of prayer as alive and as potent as ever. Her love of God as real as ever.  There’s something else that hasn’t waned as a result of Parkinson’s. Her belief in the reality of the end times. Almost every time she sees me, she’ll say the Lord’s coming back soon, implying that I be ready. Now, she’s been saying this since I was 5 in 1976! And folks like her have been saying it since the beginning of time. But that we be spiritually ready whatever the case may be – that is always good advice. Jesus, Paul, and the early Christians all believed the Kingdom was coming very soon, at any moment.  In our gospel reading Jesus is pointing to the end times when he will return again to forge God’s kingdom. What my mother makes indirect – you better be ready – Jesus makes direct.  "Be dres...

Do you treasure Christ? You get his message. You hear the gospel reading and you likely nod along. Yes, as Jesus notes, treasuring material things is a sad predicament. We can only gather so much, and we know deep in our hearts we can’t take it with us. What’s more, material things don’t embrace us or cry with us in our grief. To treasure material wealth means a sad, empty existence. Thankfully most of us treasure simpler things – the togetherness of our families, the enjoyment of a meal with friends, the love and companionship of a life partner. But let me ask you and myself, too – do we treasure Christ? I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this metaphor, the metaphor of a water tank and a fish. For a fish, the water it swims in is all there is. Water for a fish is essential to its existence. The water it swims in is its world. To treasure Christ means to value him so much that he becomes the water, the living water, we swim in. The Evangelical Christian tradition informed my childho...