Sunday Morning Greek Blog

July 27, 2025

Our Role in God’s Providence (Luke 11:1–13)

I preached this message on July 27, 2025 (Year C, Proper 12), at Mount View Presbyterian Church, Omaha, NE.

The last line of our Declaration of Independence says this:

“And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

The Declaration of Independence uses several different terms for our heavenly Father: “Nature’s God,” “Creator,” “Supreme Judge of the world,” and in the last line of the Declaration, “Providence.” Even “Prudence,”[1] might be considered a reference to God because it derives from the same root for “Providence.”

“Providence,” when capitalized, means “God conceived as the power sustaining and guiding human destiny.” The adjective “provident” is relevant to our passage today: “making provision for the future.”

As you listened to the New Testament reading this morning, you may have thought the switch from an abridged version of the Lord’s prayer to teaching about God’s providence seemed a bit “abrupt.” But if you look closely at how the portion of the Lord’s prayer is formatted in most English Bible, you’ll see that the central line is “Give us this day our daily bread.” He then goes on to relate Jesus’s teaching about what a good neighbor might do even though they might feel “put-out” by the expectation in the middle of the night.

To understand the story of the neighbor’s request, I want to remind you about what I talked about a couple weeks ago about what it meant to be a neighbor and part of an in-group. First of all, notice that Jesus puts his listeners in the position of the one needing the bread. To make this easier to follow, I’m going to give the three men in this story names. Since the man in story is played by you in Jesus’s parable, you can insert your own name in there, but I’m going to use Joel for our example, because he’s always willing to play along with me when I ask for audience participation, and Joel is a good biblical name. We’ll call Joel’s neighbor Hosea since that’s the Bible book that comes before Joel, and we’ll call Joel’s visitor Malachi, since that’s the last book of the minor prophets.

Even though Hosea probably doesn’t know Malachi, because both men are friends with Joel, Joel would have a cultural, in-group expectation that Hosea would show the same hospitality and respect to Malachi as he would to him and would not make Joel look bad to Malachi. The other thing to consider here is that Joel seemingly has enough trust in his relationship with Hosea that waking him up at midnight for bread doesn’t seem out of bounds with the cultural norms of the day. Hosea is certainly not happy about being awakened in this manner, but he realizes that his neighbor Joel must really be in a bind if he has the “shameless audacity” to wake him up at midnight. It is that trust in the relationship between Joel and Hosea that compels Hosea to get up and give Joel the bread he needs.[2]

One final note here: Joel’s audacious act would have signaled to Hosea that if Hosea was ever in a similar spot, Joel would be willing to help him as well. This was not so much a matter of tit-for-tat; Hosea would not have had an expectation of any compensation or immediate reciprocation. It was more of a “pay-it-forward” act. Nor was it “charity” or even “welfare” in the way we might typically think of it. It’s a two-way street. It is simply the mindset of those first-century listeners who would have understood the cultural dynamic at work here and who take their cultural obligations seriously.

The important consideration here is that this cultural dynamic was intended for the success and longevity of the community. When those in the in-group and allied with the in-group are supported by the in-group, the in-group becomes stronger and more closely united. This provides a sense of internal security for the in-group. They don’t have to rely on outside sources to support their cultural priorities.

This is the kind of thing we see going on in the early chapters of the book of Acts. We see the believers willingly selling property to help meet the needs of less fortunate believers. We see them sharing meals together. We see them meeting together for prayer, worship, and instruction. We see them resolving conflicts so that all the widows can be cared for. And we even see Paul condemn Ananias and Sapphira to death for lying about what they gave for those needs, even though they had absolutely no obligation to give every last drachma of their proceeds on the sale.

As I said a couple weeks ago, this kind of internal support system is how the community maintained their honor and integrity. This also represents how God works with us, especially when it comes to prayer. Verses 9–10 give us the moral of the story: don’t be afraid to ask—and be persistent when you do!

I wish I understood why our current culture has gotten to the place where we are afraid or embarrassed to ask for help from those we know, especially within the church. Part of it may have to do with the government thinking they need to take over the responsibility of “charity,” and then regulating it to the point where it becomes burdensome for private nonprofit entities to respond to needs. I fear it’s created a mindset that government should be the first place you look for help, not the church.

But I digress. The last part of our gospel passage this morning reveals the goodness of God. Some may have the opinion that God only wants to punish us, or that the bad things that happen to us are the result of a cruel God. But God is not cruel in the way he responds to our prayers. James confirms the goodness of God as revealed in the last part of our gospel passage:

James 1:5–8 says:

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.[3]

And later in 4:1–3, James says almost the same thing, with a different twist:

What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.[4]

Our reading form Psalm 138 this morning also affirms the goodness of God when we ask him for help. Verse 3 says, “When I called, you answered me;

you greatly emboldened me.[5]” There’s that boldness we saw in the man who asked for bread from his neighbor. Verse 6 says, “Though the Lord is exalted, he looks kindly on the lowly; though lofty, he sees them from afar.”[6]

 Your presumed standing with God matters not. In fact, he has a special place in his heart for those of us who think we’re “lowly.”

David is willing to bow down to God and give him unfettered praise for the way he has provided for him. He recognizes God’s protection, God’s preservation, and God’s power. God is there for us when we need him. Even if we don’t get the answer we want, we, like the three men in the fiery furnace, know that God will save us one way or another when we put our trust in him.

Paul affirms this in Colossians 2:6–7 as well: “So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.”[7] We can show the same thankfulness that David did in Psalm 138.

At the beginning of my message this morning, I mentioned how the Declaration of Independence refers to God as “Providence.” He is the provider and we can trust in him. But this also implies a mutual trust as well, just as we have as the body of Christ united. Jefferson closes the Declaration of Independence with a line that sums up nicely the commitment we should have to the body of Christ as we walk faithfully with Jesus: “We mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”[8] We are God’s witnesses on earth to his great and marvelous deeds. How can we do anything less than give him all our praise for the ways he provides for us. Don’t be afraid to ask God to do some great things for you as you walk with him. Amen.


[1] According to Merriam-Webster, “prudence” is derived from the same root as “providence.” “Prudence” means “the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason” or “skill and good judgment in the use of resources,” which is perhaps a meaning relevant to this message.

[2] This is known as a “dyadic alliance” or “dyadic contract.” See Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology, revised edition, pp. 99–103, 115. Wesley/John Knox Press, 1993. See also Malina’s Windows on the World of Jesus, pp. 48–49.

[3] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[4] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[5] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[6] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[7] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[8] Declaration of Independence: A Transcription | National Archives, accessed 07/26/25.

July 13, 2025

Who Is YOUR Neighbor? (Luke 10:25–37)

I preached this message July 13, 2025, at Mount View Presbyterian Church in Omaha, NE.

Good morning. The Lord be with you.

I imagine that most of us either grew up watching Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood or had young children who watched that show. (It’s okay to admit it if you watched it with your kids.) As a kid, one of my favorite parts of the show was when he sang “Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?” He would usually find someone who could demonstrate their talents or skills. When I watched it with my kids later on, that had become a visit to a factory where something was made. I was fascinated by the episode on how aluminum foil was made.

Of course, being a train lover, my other favorite part of the show was when Trolley went to the Magic Kingdom. I never thought much about it as a kid, but as a parent it dawned on me, spoiler alert here, that Mr. Rogers was doing most if not all of the puppet voices.

As a kid, it was just a fun show to watch. But as I watched it as an adult with my kids, especially in the small rural town we lived in in Illinois and where I served as a pastor, I began to broaden my concept of who my “neighbors” were. I used to think “neighbors” were just the people who lived in the houses around us. But as I would go for walks with the kids or go to the park with them, we would meet people we didn’t know or I would meet the parents of my kids’ classmates.

If I said hi to someone in passing, my kids sometimes asked, “Who was that?” If I didn’t know their name, I would usually say, “That’s one of our Paxton neighbors.” After all, they may have been neighbors to people in our congregation, so I wanted to make sure they knew that the newcomer to the town wanted to fit in.

In Mediterranean culture, the concept of neighbor had a slightly different nuance. Their culture was steeped in the concept of “in-group” vs. “out-group.” The concept of neighbor went much further than just people who live near you. Bruce Malina, a Theology professor who taught for 48 years at Creighton before his death in 2017, defined “neighbor” in the Bible this way:

“The term refers to a social role with rights and obligations that derive simply from living close with others—the same village or neighborhood. Neighbors of this sort are an extension of one’s kin group.”[1]

In other words, neighbors were family and were to be treated like family. Along with that, being considered family meant you had a certain degree of honor in the community as well. But that wasn’t a hard-and-fast rule for Jews. If you did something to violate the honor or trust you had in the community, you would most likely be shamed or even ostracized. If you got drunk and embarrassed yourself or got in a fight or damaged someone else’s property, the community would not excuse or overlook such behavior. If you stole from your neighbor or committed adultery, you got more than a slap on the wrist. You would find yourself in the out-group.

These concepts of honor and shame, in-group and out-group, have lost their force in modern culture. Malina documents that in one of his other books.[2] In fact, in some respects, this has been flipped on its head. The in-groups value law and order in their communities and have certain expectations about what good behavior looks like, while the out-groups, something that used to carry shame and guilt, are now intentionally and sometimes violently trying to disrupt the law and order and care little about good behavior or even trying to be restored to an in-group.

It’s not that there’s only one in-group for everybody either. Several in-groups peacefully coexisted in neighboring communities and were distinguished by any number or combination of cultural and ethnic characteristics. But they all had the overarching concept of honor and shame and could peacefully interact with other in-groups when they acted honorably and without malice. If anyone acted with malice or violence toward another in-group, the gloves were off at that point.

This is some of the cultural background that was assumed by the authors of the Bible when they wrote. We in America tend to read the Bible through our 21st-century cultural lens and will sometimes get a little uncomfortable with the way the Bible describes a certain scenario. That’s because the scenario is set in a time and place with a completely different worldview. This Mediterranean worldview is the lens through which we should view the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

One caveat, I’m not excusing anyone’s behavior in the story. Jesus clearly expects the expert in the law to come up with the only right answer to the question he asked after Jesus finishes the story. Yet we’re somewhat uncomfortable with the fact that servants of God bypassed the wounded man in the parable.

First off in the story, we notice that the man is not identified by any ethnic or cultural features. In the story, he’s just a man. He also appears to be traveling alone. The path from Jerusalem to Jericho was a bit of a challenge, a descent of nearly 3,400 feet over 17 miles, so that’s a 200-foot change in elevation every mile through rocky terrain. Plenty of places for bandits to hide.

Priests and Levites were generally respected in that day, and they were easily recognizable as well by the garments they wore. As such, many people would have looked up to them, even those people who were not Jewish, so they would not have typically been targeted by bandits. It’s not that the bandits cared about their reputation with any one group; they just knew that the civil and legal penalties for them would have probably been a lot more severe.

For the priest and Levite, those jobs were their livelihood and gave them a certain social standing within their “in-groups.” When each of them walked by the bloodied-up man on the side of the road, their first thought wasn’t to help. There’s no indication in the story that either of them even bothered to check if the man was Jewish himself. No, their first thought was, “If this man is dead, I’m going to be unclean and not able to do my job.” They had a legalistic view of the law that they thought they could use to protect their “status” in their in-groups, but we all know by now that Jesus wasn’t interested in the legalistic interpretation.

The people hearing the story, including the expert in the law who asked the question, probably expected that would be the behavior of the priest and the Levite. But then Jesus throws a twist into the story that the expert may not have been expecting. He says a Samaritan came along and helped the man thoroughly, even using his own money to pay for his care until he could return. Now Samaritans were definitely not part of the Jews’ in-group. So when Jesus asks the expert to identify which one was the neighbor, you can imagine that the expert must have gulped a bit and tugged at his collar uncomfortably.

Since the Jews were known for walking around Samaria rather than going through it, which was the more direct route, one could say here that the priest and the Levite treated the wounded man like a Samaritan, even though they probably didn’t know if the man was a Samaritan. If the man was a Jew, then they actually violated a cultural norm that was probably considered to be on the same level with the Law.

Meanwhile, the Samaritan, who doesn’t hate the Jews as much as the Jews hate them, chose to treat the man like he would treat his own family, without concern for whether the man was Samaritan, Jew, or some other ethnic background. In other words, as the law expert correctly discerned, the Samaritan treated the man like a neighbor.

What Jesus is obviously getting at here then is that being a neighbor or showing a stranger the same level of respect as a neighbor isn’t a noun or an adjective, it’s a verb. It doesn’t matter what your background is; you’re considered a neighbor by the way you treat those you come in contact with. That doesn’t mean you’ve abandoned your primary in-group and joined the stranger’s in-group, nor does it mean you’ve adopted or supported any beliefs or customs of the stranger’s in-group contrary to your own. When you act like a neighbor, you’re not “guilty by association,” at least not from Jesus’s perspective.

In verse 29, Luke tells us the legal expert wanted to “justify himself” by asking the question. Do you suppose the legal expert accomplished that? I’m guessing not, but we’ll never know. Just because Jesus tweaked the definition of neighbor here doesn’t mean he overturned the idea of one’s own “kinship” in-group, though. The question each of us must ask, then, is the same question Mr. Rogers sang in his show: “Who are the people in YOUR neighborhood?” Not only that, but “How are you loving the people in your neighborhood?” You may have guessed by now that when I say “neighborhood,” I don’t just mean inside these four walls.

In an age where we’re personally and increasingly isolated by either technology or mobility, it’s important that we have a neighborhood to connect with so we can feel the support, love, and encouragement that comes from those associations. I pray that you might get to know a new neighbor this week and share the love of the savior with them. Peace to you. Amen.

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[1] Malina, Bruce J. Windows on the World of Jesus: Time Travel to Ancient Judea. Westminster/John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 1993, p. 52.

[2] Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology. Revised Edition. Westminster/John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 1993, pp. 82–86.

My opinions are my own, except where otherwise cited.

Scott Stocking

April 6, 2025

Giving Our Best for the Savior (John 12:1–8)

I preached this message on April 6, 2025, which was also National Tartan Day. I wore the standard Gordon family kilt (great-great-grandfather through the maternal line) and the necktie is Gordon Red (purchased in Scotland). I’ve included a few pictures. Now I can say I’ve preached in a kilt! :-)

The Lord be with you.

Before I get to my main message, I want to go back a few months when I preached on Psalm 126, our Old Testament reading this morning, because it was also our reading on October 27. At that time I said that we should consider verse 4 a prayer for this congregation: “Restore our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev.” That continues to be my prayer for this congregation today, and I hope it is yours as well. I heard recently that church attendance is starting to pick up again, so I pray we can take the opportunity to tap into that resurgence.

Our gospel passage this morning, John 12:1–8, is one of the few stories of Jesus’s ministry that all four gospel authors included, probably because Matthew and Mark both said that what she’d done would be told wherever the gospel was preached. Matthew and Mark both include the story after the time of Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem and two days before the Last Supper. Luke places it much earlier in his gospel, and he emphasizes that the woman’s sins were forgiven because of what she’d done. We can’t be sure why Luke has the story so much earlier. He may be “borrowing” it from the future in his gospel so he can tie it in with the story of the response to forgiveness based on the depth of one’s sins.

But in our passage this morning from John, he places the story just before Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. This event may serve to bring to mind the anointings that the Israelites were commanded to do for their priests and kings. Listen to what David says in the very short Psalm 133:

How good and pleasant it is

when God’s people live together in unity!

It is like precious oil poured on the head,

running down on the beard,

running down on Aaron’s beard,

down on the collar of his robe.

It is as if the dew of Hermon

were falling on Mount Zion.

For there the Lord bestows his blessing,

even life forevermore.[1]

This refers to Leviticus 8, where not only was the oil poured on Aaron’s head for consecration, it was also used to consecrate everything in the newly assembled tabernacle. Matthew and Mark do not name the woman who brings in the alabaster jar. Nothing in those accounts suggests they know who the woman is. Luke says the woman lived a sinful life and suggests she shouldn’t even be there.

John is the only one who names the woman in his gospel. The woman is Mary, Lazarus’s sister. We do know a bit more about Mary and Martha than other people mentioned in passing in the Gospels. At the end of Luke 10, Martha is frustrated with Mary because she is sitting at Jesus’s feet listening to his teaching while Martha is busy preparing a meal. This probably isn’t the meal John mentions, and it’s nowhere near Luke’s account of the foot anointing. In the previous chapter of John, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead to prove he was the “resurrection and the life.” Lazarus’s death seems to have hit Mary the hardest in that story, as she is the one who seems most disturbed by Jesus’s delay in coming to see Lazarus. It makes sense, then, that Mary would be the one who wanted to anoint Jesus’s feet for resurrecting her beloved brother.

John is the only one who doesn’t indicate that the container for the nard was an alabaster jar, but the alabaster jar was considered the most appropriate container for nard or perfume at that time, so I think we’re safe to assume it was. Alabaster was made from gypsum, so it was somewhat delicate and finely textured. Breaking the seal probably meant that the neck of the jar had to be broken to pour the thick nard out and apply it. It wasn’t a very big jar either. We know it was about a pint, and it would have all had to have been used at that moment; otherwise it would spoil or lose its aroma. Matthew and Mark say the woman poured the nard on Jesus’s head, much like it would have been for the OT priests mentioned above, while Luke and John say the woman poured it on Jesus’s feet, perhaps an acknowledgment of Jesus’s servant attitude.

Although the details of this story vary among the gospel accounts, a couple themes of the story do stand out across the board. Many of those present at the dinner, especially Judas Iscariot in John’s account, view this as a wasteful act. This perfume was not cheap; Judas, along with other players in the parallel account, are concerned that such a valuable commodity could have been sold so the money would be given to the poor. John reminds us though that Judas’s concern was more selfish than compassionate. Judas had been helping himself to the till.

What this tells us, I think, for our walk with Christ today is that it’s okay to be a little extravagant when giving to the Lord’s work. Now obviously we don’t need to prepare Jesus for another crucifixion as the woman was doing in that day. But just as Jesus turned the water into the best wine served at the wedding at Cana for his first miracle, so we too can dedicate our excellence in whatever we do for or offer to the body of Christ and the work of the kingdom.

A second principle at work here is that, while the work of helping the poor is noble and a never-ending ministry of the church, there will be times when we have to take care of our own, and I’m not necessarily referring to when we die. It’s not selfish when we do that. It’s a necessary part of taking care of our family. While our loved ones are alive, we buy thoughtful gifts for them. When they pass, we pick out a nice coffin or urn. The ancient Jews used an ossuary, basically a stone box, to store the bones of a loved one once the flesh had decayed and often would put some sort of inscription on it. When the Jews brought Joseph’s bones out of Egypt, it was most likely in an Egyptian mummy case. That’s a little odd for us to think in those terms today, though, so we find other ways to memorialize our loved ones.

Unlike the pharisees and Judas Iscariot then, we should not look with judgment on those who do nice things for their loved ones at death. How we choose to remember a loved one is an important part of the grieving process. But I have to wonder here: Mary had already witnessed Jesus raise her brother Lazarus from the dead. Did she, or any of the other disciples for that matter, have any inkling that Jesus’s impending crucifixion might be followed up by his own resurrection? Judging from the disciples’ reaction in the gospels when Jesus spoke of his death, I’m pretty sure they hadn’t put two and two together yet.

Our gospel passage this morning has focused on what Mary did to prepare Jesus for his death. But what was Jesus doing to prepare his disciples for his death? We’ll address some of this after Easter in the Sundays leading up to Pentecost, but for now I think it’s important to see that, although he was speaking somewhat figuratively at times, he did not leave his disciples without reason for hope after his death.

The next event after our gospel passage this morning is Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem: Palm Sunday as we’ve come to know it. Chapter 13 is the Last Supper, where Jesus imparts his final teachings to his disciples before his arrest and crucifixion. John recorded five chapters worth of Jesus’s words, longer than the Sermon on the Mount. In those final hours he has with his disciples, he:

  • Models servanthood by washing their feet
  • Predicts Peter’s denial
  • Reassures them that he’ll come back to take them to the place he’s preparing for them
  • Promises the Holy Spirit will dwell in them and guide them in all truth
  • Encourages them to stay connected to the vine, to Jesus, so they can bear fruit
  • Reaffirms the coming, indwelling power of the Holy Spirit
  • Predicts that they will be scattered, but they will also eventually know peace
  • Prays for their unity so that the kingdom can move forward and their faith will be unshakable.

That must have been quite the emotional and gut-wrenching after-seder gathering. Most of what John records in those chapters was unique to his gospel. None of the other Gospel come close to the depth of this teaching. Luke and Matthew have passing references to receiving the Holy Spirit without too much detail to describe it. As a gospel writer, John seems to have had special dispensation to capture these final teachings. He, after all, was the only one who shows up at the cross on crucifixion day.

This is not to discount the other teachings of Jesus prior to his triumphal entry. His whole ministry was about preparing you and me for the new way God would work among his people. The Sermon on the Mount and the parables in Matthew; Luke’s sermon on the plain; and Mark’s emphasis on the urgency of Jesus’s ministry are all signs in their own way that Jesus was preparing ordinary people to extraordinary things for the kingdom of God.

Isaiah looked forward to this new time in 43:18–19:

18 “Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past.

19 See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness

and streams in the wasteland.[2]

The final two verses from our OT reading this morning hint at a future sorrow that will end with joy as well:

Those who sow with tears

will reap with songs of joy.

Those who go out weeping,

carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy,

carrying sheaves with them.[3]

As we continue toward Easter, you and I know how the story ends. We do not need to fret like those first disciples. We know we have the victory. We know we have forgiveness. We know we have the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. Let us go forth from here boldly and confidently in that knowledge and be shining lights for the Savior! Amen.


[1] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[2] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[3] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

February 16, 2025

Those Beautiful Beatitudes—Luke Style (Luke 6:17–26)

I preached this message at Mount View Presbyterian Church, Omaha, Nebraska, on February 16, 2025.

In Luke 10:25ff, an “expert in the law” asked Jesus how to inherit eternal life. Jesus turned the question back to him to see what he would say. The expert in the law answered correctly with the two greatest commandments: “Love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” But it seems the expert wanted to nitpick about the second greatest commandment: “Who is my neighbor?” he asked. Jesus then proceeded to tell the story of the Good Samaritan.

So let’s think about this for a minute: Of the two greatest commandments the expert cited, which one would you expect to be the more difficult one to follow? This isn’t a trick question, so don’t think too hard about it. Of course, it’s the first and greatest commandment, right? If it were not the most difficult one to keep, it would not be the greatest, right? The expert didn’t have a problem with the “love” part of that command. He was, perhaps, attempting to limit the scope of the command by trying to get Jesus to narrowly define “neighbor.” I’m not sure why that expert thought the “love your neighbor as yourself” was so difficult to understand. Be kind to everyone, right? Then you don’t have to worry whether you’re living near them or not!

These days, I think the “loving your neighbor” part is so much easier than it used to be, or at least it should be. We’ve got “GoFundMe” accounts for emergency needs; TikTok for advertising your small business (at least, that’s what the commercial says); Venmo, Zelle, and CashApp for a quick “donation”; FaceTime and Skype for virtual “in-person” live calls; and of course all the social media apps out there, yet somehow many feel so much more isolated than before. So many ways to “reach out and touch someone.” So much for Big Tech!

Although the Greek word for “neighbor” (πλησίον plēsion) simply means “someone who lives near you” in the New Testament, and the Hebrew word (רֵעַ rēaʿ) is often simply translated “friend,” Jesus redefines—perhaps a better way to say it is “adds to”—the meaning of neighbor to include “one to whom you show mercy.” So it’s not just people in your “in-group” or immediate community, but anyone you encounter who needs a helping hand.

Enter the beatitudes, Luke-style. The Beatitudes are an expression of where the rubber meets the road in showing love to our neighbor, just like the parable of the sheep and goats in Matthew 25, but I believe they also answer the question we probably should ask of the greatest commandment: “How do we love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength?” especially in a world that has all of the distractions I just mentioned above. Matthew 25:40 answers that question for us, at least in part: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Luke’s passage this morning puts more meat on the bone for us. Our two readings from the Old Testament today help shed light on that answer as well.

I want to get to a couple details of the passage first, especially in comparison with the Beatitudes in Matthew 5. Notice the location first: in Matthew, Jesus goes up on a mountainside to get a better vantage point for speaking. He has just picked his first four disciples as we talked about last week. In Luke, just before this morning’s passage, we see that Jesus went up on a mountainside to pray and picked twelve of his disciples to be apostles, and then Luke 6:17 says “He went down with [the disciples/apostles] and stood on a level place.” It’s entirely possible Jesus delivered similar messages in different places, so this shouldn’t be seen as some kind of contradiction.

Luke adds the extra note here of Jesus having “power…coming from him and healing them all,” which is not part of Matthew’s account of this teaching. This enhances Jesus’s authority with all those who were following him. In that regard, he had a bit of an edge than other teachers of his day when it came to attracting a crowd.

Now that we’ve got the background out of the way, let’s look at the four aspects of life Jesus teaches (and warns) about in Luke 6: wealth, hunger, joy, and reputation. I’ll deal with the natural contrasts Jesus makes between the “Blessed are you” and “Woe to you” statements in parallel. Along the way, I’ll tie that in with the relevant verses from our OT passages this morning. So if you’ve got a Bible open, get ready for some serious page turning!

The first pair we’ll look at is “Blessed are you who are poor” versus “Woe to you who are rich.” You may notice right off the bat here that Luke doesn’t have Jesus saying “poor in spirit.” This may reflect a different audience that needs to hear a different aspect of the message. But the reward is the same in both Matthew and Luke: “For yours is the kingdom of heaven.”

This contrast is important for a couple reasons. The gospels reveal an underlying cultural view that the rich are the ones who are blessed and have the favor of God to enter heaven. Some of them made sure the poor knew that, too. The parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19ff) is one such story in the gospels. Jesus counters that cultural view in Matthew 19:21–24 when he says, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”[1] That’s the same passage where Jesus tells the rich young ruler, “Sell all your possessions and give to the poor.” Jesus, and the Jewish community in general, expected the rich to bring comfort and relief to the poor. The Romans didn’t have much of a welfare program for the poor, if at all.

It’s for those reasons that Jesus can turn around and in the same teaching say “Woe to you are rich.” He’s talking about the rich man’s seemingly uncompassionate attitude toward poor Lazarus at his gate and why the rich young ruler went away sad. Following Jesus meant a radical change in the concept of generosity. It wasn’t just about the tithe anymore; he was calling for good stewardship of all your resources.

Psalm 1 affirms this: The one who walks with the Lord and delights in the law is the one who is better off in the end. Verse 3 says “whatever they do prospers,” while vs. 4 says the wicked “are like chaff that the wind blows away.” In other words, the fleeting riches of this present world, the stuff you can’t take with you won’t last. Jeremiah 17:8 repeats the thought from Psalm one about the righteous being “like a tree planted by the water.”

The second contrast is the most straightforward of the four pairs. If you’re hungry, you’ll be satisfied. If you’re well fed, you’ll go hungry. Jesus is obviously using hyperbole here. He doesn’t expect a complete transfer of food stores from the rich to the poor. Jeremiah says that those who trust in their own ability to provide for themselves (and no one else) will end up in a parched, barren wasteland, while those who trust in the Lord will have a never-ending supply of fruit. Psalm 1:6 says, “The way of the wicked leads to destruction.”

We see this in other places in scripture as well. Jesus tells the woman at the well in John 4 that if she drinks of the water he provides, she will never thirst again. Jesus fed the 5,000 and the 4,000 with a few loaves and fish, a real-life example of the promise in Luke 6. In Exodus, God provided manna for the Israelites as they wandered through the wilderness.

The third contrast is just as straightforward as the second: If you’re weeping, that will change to laughter. If you’re laughing it up, that will change to weeping and mourning. Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” Psalm 1:1 says you’re blessed if you don’t “sit in the company of mockers.” Psalm 30:11–12 says this:

11       You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;

you have loosed my sackcloth

and clothed me with gladness,

          12        that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.

O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever! [2]

The final contrast may seem a bit odd to us. Why, after all, should we be woeful about someone speaking well of us? Proverbs 22:1 says: “A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, and favor is better than silver or gold.”[3] Ecclesiastes 7:1 says something similar: “A good name is better than precious ointment.”[4] The comparison with how the false prophets (an important distinction here) were treated gives us the context though. The books of Kings and Chronicles are filled with examples of prophets who pretended to speak for God but were only trying to prop up the king so they could stay in his good graces. Kings didn’t like bad news from the real prophets. The “speaking well of you” in Luke is nothing more than lip service. They like those who puff them up, even if they can see the writing on the wall, so to speak.

It’s difficult to speak the truth at times, like a true prophet (see vs. 23), because we know that brings on criticism. People don’t like to be told they’re wrong or are on the wrong path. Notice the reward here and the further contrast: We have a great reward in heaven! Psalm 1 says we’re blessed if we don’t “walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take.”[5] Jeremiah 17:5 says, “Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who draws strength from mere flesh and whose heart turns away from the Lord.”[6]

Luke’s version of the Beatitudes here drives home the point that loving God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind means living counter to the way the world expects us to live. They show us what it means to radically love our neighbor and how to handle the trials that come our way with grace and dignity. The benediction, so to speak, of Jeremiah 17:10 brings home the point most clearly to us: God is watching over us, and the blessings he gives are, at times, rewards for our deeds. This doesn’t deny that sometimes God blesses us when we don’t deserve it: that’s grace, and we should be grateful for those times. Hear the words of Jeremiah 17:10 one more time as I close my message today:

I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind,

to reward each person according to their conduct,

according to what their deeds deserve.[7]


[1] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[2] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. 2016. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. 2016. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

[4] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. 2016. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

[5] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[6] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[7] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

My opinions are my own.

Scott Stocking

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November 20, 2024

The Greatest Gifts (Mark 12:38–44)

This message was preached at Mount View Presbyterian Church in Omaha, NE, on November 10, 2024.

My favorite stories of all time are told by J.R.R. Tolkien in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The main characters in the two stories, Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit and his nephew Frodo Baggins in the Lord of the Rings, are from a race of people called “Hobbits.” They were a short people, too short to mount and ride a standard horse, who lived in a tranquil, almost Edenic part of the fictional land known as “Middle Earth” called “The Shire.” They were a peaceful race enjoying fine tobacco in their pipes, several meals a day (including second breakfast), and well-tended gardens. They were relatively untouched by the evils and political strife in faraway lands like the Misty Mountains, Mirkwood Forest (where there are spiders), and the dark fortress of Sauron in Mordor. They are however fascinated by the Elves who live in those faraway places, as they will sometimes pass through the Shire on their way to the Sea.

They are the quintessential “home bodies,” with a great distaste for adventure and conflict. In spite of this, Bilbo and Frodo are destined to become legends in the great battles against the evil forces that want to take over, dominate, and pillage Middle Earth in their greed and desire for power. Fourteen dwarves show up at Bilbo’s “hole-home” in the Shire one evening and hire him to be their “burglar,” who’s job would be to go into the dragon Smaug’s lair under The Lonely Mountain and retrieve their most prized possession and recapture their home under the mountain. Along the way, Bilbo finds a ring, which happens to be THE ring of power that would be passed on to Frodo, who would after an arduous journey, destroy the ring of power in Mount Doom and thus rid Middle Earth of the Evil Sauron forever.

I love these stories because they show how “the least of us” can have a powerful impact for good in a world seemingly dominated by the wealthy, the politically powerful, and those with great military might or cunning. Many brave, strong, and noble men, elves, and dwarves longed to destroy this power. The problem for Sauron was, he only feared the collective strength of these mighty men, so he was always ready to confront and attack the armies of good. He never suspected that two little Hobbits from the Shire would carry that ring of power right into the heart of his kingdom and cast that ring into the fiery lava of Mount Doom where it was forged.

In our Gospel passage today, we see a stark contrast between the wealthy, self-righteous people, including the religious leaders, and a poor widow who gives two copper coins. For whatever reason, the religious leaders in Jesus’s day had fallen into the “social-status” trap, and they were oppressing the people with a legalistic and inflated “tithe” (two- to three-times a regular tithe), which in some cases may have forced widows to sell their homes just to pay this inflated tithe along with the Roman taxes. In our day, some politicians might call that a “wealth tax,” or a “tax on unrealized gains.” But the religious leaders apparently didn’t care whether you had the cash to cover it. They just wanted their cut, and if they had to “devour widows’ houses” to do it, sobeit.

Herod’s Temple in that day seems to have been an ostentatious place with extravagant decorations. One later tradition claims there were 13 receptacles in the Court of Women where male and female visitors could place their offerings. I do find it to be a bit “curmudgeony” of Mark (and Jesus) to tell us that Jesus sat opposite the tithe collection area while the rich walked around making a big show about their giving and perhaps even their judging about how much certain people might be putting in. He certainly was NOT in a seat of honor; he was just hanging out with his disciples people-watching.

Amidst all the finery the temple and the religious leaders were adorned with, Jesus is looking out for something quite the opposite. What catches his eye? A widow, humbly dressed in old, probably slightly worn clothing (perhaps her best outfit) who approaches one of the fancy offering receptacles, probably worth more than all that woman’s earthly possessions, who deposits two of the smallest coins available, barely worth a nickel. Was she thinking about how the religious leaders seemed to be spending more on themselves than they did the poor? Was she worried about what others who saw her might think about her and her seemingly meager contribution? Was she even worried about her future if she was giving all she had?

My guess is no, she wasn’t concerned about any of that. Her only thought in that moment, at least as Jesus implies, is that she was putting her whole trust in God. Just like the woman with the bleeding condition who reached out just to touch the hem of Jesus’s garment and was healed, this woman reasoned that God would provide for her needs. When you’re down to nothing, the only thing left is faith or despair. She chose faith. We don’t know anything else about this woman’s history, but I’m guessing she must have had an amazing story to part with whatever worldly wealth she had left. She must have some life experience that affirmed her faith. This was the greatest gift she could have given within her means.

This woman understood the concern for the poor in the Old Testament. She knew the promise of Psalm 23:1: “The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need.” She understood that God “satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things (Psalm 107:9) when “they cry out to the Lord in their trouble” (vs. 6). She counted on the faithfulness of others who practiced the principles of Isaiah 58:7: to “Share [their] food with the hungry and provide the poor wanderer with shelter.” That chapter in Isaiah may be the basis for the passage in Matthew about not hiding your lamp under a basket but putting it on a stand to give light to the whole world.

Our OT passage this morning, Psalm 146, is pretty clear that caring for the poor and needy is the primary responsibility of the people of God. The psalmist says, “Don’t put your trust in princes…who cannot save.” Like Jehoshaphat in the OT who put the choir out in front of the army as that went out to battle, and in so doing threw the enemy into such confusion that they destroyed themselves, so here in Psalm 146 the psalmist puts praise first: “Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, my soul. I will praise the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.” The power of praise is immeasurable.

The woman in the gospel story saw her giving, her gift, as a means of praising God. She was expressing thanks with a monetary gift, but I don’t doubt that she knew the psalms of praise as well. She knew how singing or reciting those psalms made her feel in her spirit. She knew how God supported those who felt oppressed or beaten down by a system corrupted by greedy leaders who cared more about rules than about the people they demanded obedience from.

This woman may have heard of Jesus at the time, but she may not have had the same level of knowledge or understanding of who Jesus is or what he came to accomplish as his disciples. After the resurrection the author of Hebrews describes Jesus’s ministry in this way:

24 For Christ did not enter a sanctuary made with human hands that was only a copy of the true one; he entered heaven itself, now to appear for us in God’s presence. 25 Nor did he enter heaven to offer himself again and again, the way the high priest enters the Most Holy Place every year with blood that is not his own. 26 Otherwise Christ would have had to suffer many times since the creation of the world. But he has appeared once for all at the culmination of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of himself. 27 Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, 28 so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.[1]

Giving is an act of worship. When we give to the work of the kingdom of God, we participate in the work of the kingdom of God. We give because Christ has given his all. It’s not that we could ever give enough to repay him for that. We can’t. There’s not enough money in the world. That’s what this passage from Hebrews says. Christ went ahead of us to prepare a place for us in heaven. Christ is interceding for us even now as we minister for him on earth.

Christ’s death and resurrection is central to two of the sacraments we hold most dear: Communion and baptism. Communion brings us to the table at Christ’s invitation to remember his body and the covenant in his blood. Baptism connects us to the body and blood of Christ through the symbolism of death, burial, and resurrection. Giving keeps the ministry of the local church and the church at large “solvent” so we can continue to share the good news of Jesus in our communities and around the world.

The author of Hebrews emphasizes that Christ’s sacrifice was once for all. That was his greatest gift to us. Earlier in Hebrews 6, the author warns about recrucifying Christ if we try to “repent” again. The point the author is making that we only need to repent once. In other words, we only need to admit Christ is Lord once. After that, the goal of the Christian life should be to grow into a mature relationship with Christ where you’re not stuck eating “baby food” all the time. At some point, the author of Hebrews expects you get into the meat and potatoes of the Christian walk and become mature. In other words, the answer for backsliding or falling away from living a faithful Christian life is not to repent again, but recommit yourself to maturity.

Part of this maturity is recognizing the second time Jesus comes, not to be put on a cross again, but win the final victory over sin and death and usher us into his eternal home. What a glorious day that will be. Of course, we don’t know when that will happen. Some days lately it seems like that event may be closer than we think. The other days not so much. Our job isn’t to figure out when: our job is to be ready for when it does happen.

Like Bilbo and Frodo, we must walk the walk with courage, strength, and trust in God, all gifts that he imparts to us, especially in the more difficult times. Our ministry of giving is just as important as our ministry of sharing the gospel, of taking communion together as a body, and of baptizing and welcoming new members of the kingdom into our midst. We want that final day to see large throngs welcoming us into our eternal home. May God forever be praised. Amen.


[1] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

January 15, 2024

Hilarious Giving? (2 Corinthians 9:6–7)

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Several years ago, in the second year of my blog, I received a question from a reader (Bobby Smith, of Illinois at the time) on the concept of the “cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:6–7) and the Greek text behind it. He had made the point in one of his sermons that the Greek word for “cheerful” (ἱλαρός hilaros) is the root word for our English word “hilarity” and its cognates. He said he wasn’t trying to imply giving was hilarious; he was just making a verbal connection for the people. In one church I attended, they “interpreted” this by asking people to applaud the offering. I’ve heard others suggest that we laugh joyously when we give.

Just so we have an idea of what we’re working with here, let’s take a look at what “hilarity” means in good ol’ Merriam-Webster: “boisterous merriment or laughter.”[1] The adjective “hilarious” means “marked by or causing hilarity : extremely funny.”[2] Now, what does “cheerful” mean? “Full of good spirits : MERRY;… UNGRUDGING…conducive to cheer : likely to dispel gloom or worry” (note: all caps means M-W lists the word as a synonym)[3]. Note the word “merry” appears in this definition too! What is the etymological root of “cheer”? “Middle English chere face, cheer, from Anglo-French, face, from Medieval Latin cara, probably from Greek kara head, face — more at CEREBRAL”

The context of 2 Corinthians 9:7 would seem to suggest that the “ungrudging” meaning of “cheerful” is perhaps the best fit, as the verse prefaces the “cheerful giver” comment with “not reluctantly or under compulsion.”

We’re confident then about what the English words mean, but what about the meaning of the Greek word in biblical times? The adjective appears once in the New Testament, as does the noun form (ἱλαρότης hilarotēs; Romans 12:8 “in cheerfulness”) and once in the Greek translation of the Old Testament. In Proverbs 19:12, the Greek translators use the word to translate a Hebrew word (רָצוֹן rā·ṣôn) that is commonly translated “favor” (“his favor is like dew on the grass”; contrasted with “rage” in the parallelism in Proverbs 19:12), “pleasure,” or “acceptable.”

Josephus, a first century historian, uses the word several times in contexts that shed light on its meaning in that day. Here are a few examples:

Antiquities of the Jews, Book 3, Sec. 24: but as soon as they saw him [Moses coming down from Mt. Sinai] joyful at the promises he had received from God, they changed their sad countenances into gladness (hilaros).

Ant. Jews 6.209: On the next day Jonathan came to Saul, as soon as he saw him in a cheerful (hilaros) and joyful disposition.

Ant. Jews 12.24: the king looked upon him with a cheerful (hilaros) and joyful countenance.

Ant. Jews 18.291: So Caius, when he had drank wine plentifully, and was merrier (hilaros; comparative adverb) than ordinary…

Josephus, then, seems to suggest that hilaros has to do with one’s outward appearance or disposition. This outward expression would seem to flow naturally from an inward feeling one gets from being in “good spirits,” having one’s “gloom or worry” dispelled, or knowing you’ve done the right thing or a good thing by giving out of one’s own free will.

“Hilarity” or “hilariousness” might imply to some a bit of raucousness, which is why some people may be uncomfortable with that meaning or implication of the Greek word at hand. But I do think it’s important to take the same attitude as the reader who asked me the original question did: “I was just trying to get across the idea that our giving should produce so much more than our somber, and solemn faces on Sunday.” Our response should somehow reflect the cheerfulness Paul wants us to have when giving, whether that be a laugh, applause, or, as we do in the Presbyterian church I fill the pulpit for, an offertory song (“Praise God from whom all blessings flow….”). God loves a cheerful giver because it reflects the joy we have in him and the blessings he’s given us.

In this new year, then, if you’ve made a resolution to give more to the church or to the work of God wherever that may be, add to that resolution to give more cheerfully, not begrudgingly. Then you’ll know more fully the joy that comes from a generous heart.

Scott Stocking

My views are my own.


[1] “Hilarity.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hilarity. Accessed 15 Jan. 2024.

[2] “Hilarious.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hilarious. Accessed 15 Jan. 2024.

[3] “Cheerful.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/cheerful. Accessed 15 Jan. 2024.

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