I Samuel 16:4-5 Matthew 5:9 To set the scene for our Old Testament lesson -- Tension was rife. Anxiety was rife. Dread was rife. And why? It was because there was conflict, and conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And let’s not pretend that it doesn’t. The hold outs among us might stick their chests out and assert that conflict has no effect on them -- that they are immune from conflict. But personally, I’m a bit skeptical. As I’ve mentioned before, in my various vocations and avocations, I have been subjected to psychological tests. And not just a few of them. And one of the areas that is tested is how you react to conflict – whether you are conflict tolerant or conflict intolerant. According to the tests, I am conflict tolerant, as conflict tolerant as one can be. According to the tests, there is nothing that makes me more comfortable, and more relaxed, and more at ease than conflict. Conflict? Bring it on. There’s nothing I relish more. At least according to the tests. But why is it that in the face of conflict, I become preoccupied. I can’t get it off my mind. I become sleepless. I toss and turn at night. And I feel an enormous sense of relief when the conflict is resolved. So, in my own experience at least, conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And that leads us back to our Old Testament Lesson. Talk about conflict! But to understand it, we must back up a bit. In fact, we must back up quite a bit. We all know that Moses received the Ten Commandments atop Mt. Sinai. We all know that with the Ten Commandments in hand, Moses wandered with the people in the wilderness for forty years toward the Promised Land. But we might not all know what happened next. What happened next is that Moses died. Moses was succeeded by Joshua, who conquered the Promised land. And after that? The people settled onto the Promised Land. Since the people were comprised of twelve tribes they settled into the Promised Land accordingly. Each tribe deployed itself on a parcel of land. And they all lived happily ever after. Or not. Problems emerged in short order. The tribes did not get along. Surprise, surprise, the strong tribes picked on the weak ones. Why is it that at all times, and in all places, the strong pick on the weak? But that’s another question. Bottom line, there was disunity among the tribes. Beyond that, they were twelve tribes who each deployed itself on a parcel of land. But they were surrounded by enemies, enemies that had not been wandering around in the wilderness for the past 40 years. Enemies who were trained to fight. So, the people were threatened from within and from without. The closest thing that they had to a leader was Samuel, so they demanded of Samuel a king, a king to unify them and protect them from their enemies. Samuel listened to their demand and anointed King Saul. King Saul was the man of the hour. He was a standout. He stood head and shoulders above all others, was strikingly handsome, and teamed with charisma. He was clearly meant to be. So once again, they all lived happily ever after. Or not. There was something wrong with Saul. Now sometimes when there is something wrong with someone it’s obvious, it’s easy to name – as in the case with addiction, or physically abuse, or mental illness. But sometimes it’s not obvious. Ask twelve scholars what was wrong with Saul, you’ll get twelve different answers. For whatever reason, he proved not to be the stuff of it. He had some fatal flaw. Was it his temper? Was it his jealousy? Was it his paranoia? Was it his anger? Was it his desperation? Because all those things can prove to be fatal flaws. In that last analysis, it doesn’t matter what was wrong with King Saul – simply that there was something wrong with him. Predictably, those closest to him saw it first. But no one else was inclined to believe them. They believed what they wanted to believe, what was easiest to believe. And this is how it goes. The ones closest see it first, and no one is inclined to believe them. Moveover, they didn’t want to face the fact that King Saul was one big false start. But King Saul had some fatal flaw. And fatal flaws are fatal. King Saul deteriorated. It became increasingly difficult to deny. Conflict was brewing. It was not yet open conflict. Soon it would be and in terms too horrific to describe. But rumors were circulating. The atmosphere became charged, and not in a good way. Not one knew just how the thing would play out, but everyone sensed that it would not end well. And that brings us to our Old Testament Lesson. Samuel arrived in Bethlehem, unannounced, unexpected -- in full vestment and with full retinue. What did he want? Why did he single them out? What had they done wrong? Was he there to exact vengeance? In a spark would they all be dead? To set the scene for our Old Testament lesson -- Tension was rife. Anxiety was rife. Dread was rife. And why? It is because there was conflict, and conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And so, the people approached Samuel with a question. It was the right question. It was the key question. It was the decisive question. It was this question: Do you come in peace? If you remember one thing about this passage, if you remember one thing about the whole book of Samuel, remember this question. Do you come in peace? Because the people’s question to Samuel is the people’s question to us. Do we come in peace? In the face of conflict do we come in peace? Do we come in peace, or do we come bearing blame for things for which we know we are full well complicit? Do we come in peace, or do we come exacting retribution demanding an eye for an eye? Do we come in peace, or do we come rehearsing old grievances, resentments, jealousies, and grudges? Do we come in peace, or do we come pressing our advantage -- power up, poised to defeat? Because the people’s question to us is also Christ’s question to us? Do we come in peace? Have we gone that extra mile for the one who has burdened us? Have we turned the other cheek? Have we declined to let the sun set on our anger? Have we made peace with our accusers? Do we come in peace? For Christ declares that the peacemakers would be blest, and that through them, but only through them, would his kingdom grow. Amen.

Galatians 5:22-23 Luke 21: 1-4 Permit me to boast on my sons Herry and Adam for a bit. We recently vacationed in Door County. We had never been before. Door County is a really awesome place. It’s stunningly beautiful. There are endless fun things to do. And everyone is in a great mood because everyone is on vacation. We were seated at a restaurant. A spirit of bonhomie pervaded the place. I noticed a particularly jovial family at a table nearby. The family resemblance made it clear that the family was comprised of a matriarch, her two sons, and her two sons’ wives. The star of the family, however, was their dog. That’s another really awesome thing about Door County. Dogs are permitted in restaurants. Seated at their feet was a Cane Corso with an official looking harness that closely resembled a uniform. On it was embossed the name Zeus. You may not know anything about Cane Corsos because they’re a rare breed. They happen to be one of the oldest breeds. They served as auxiliary warriors in the Roman Empire, so you can imagine how impressive Zeus was. And he was perfectly trained, staring nobly and impassively ahead of him. What a great family, I thought to myself. But suddenly a minor disaster struck. One of the women picked up her purse upside down and its entire contents fell out, including countless coins which went rolling in every direction. It was as though the boys were seated in ejector seats. They sprang into action chasing down her purse contents and her coins. “Why thank you!” the woman exclaimed, surprised. Her husband called out, “Let the boys keep the coins.” “They aren’t doing it to be rewarded,” I said. “They are doing it because I am raising them up to be Good Samaritans.” “Let them keep them anyway,” he persisted. “They won’t accept them,” I said. And they didn’t. The woman then thanked them again profusely. They boys said, “You’re welcome,” and we returned to our respective meals. A couple minutes later, my daughter May whispered in my ear, “Mom, that woman is beaming at us.” I looked up. She was beaming at us. I am not used to being beamed at. It is a little embarrassing. Her husband said, “Would you like to pet Zeus?” “Yes!” we all exclaimed. “Zeus, free,” he commanded. Zeus dutifully arose and, oozing noblesse oblige, suffered himself to be petted. The woman who had been beaming at us came over and said, “Your boys just made my day.” “You hear so much on the news about how horrible everything and everyone is.” “Well, you made my day,” I returned. “You validated what I am trying to teach my boys, namely that being helpful and respectful goes a long way with people.” From there we chalked up a conversation. “Where are you folks from?” I asked. “Elmhurst, Illinois,” they answered. My jaw dropped. “Where are you folks from?” they asked in return. “Elmhurst, Illinois,” I said. I was raised in Elmhurst, Illinois and lived there for over fifty years before moving to Wisconsin recently. All of a sudden, our encounter became a God thing. Because coincidences are as often as not God things. The Bible talks all about signs. It says they’re real. And one sign is a coincidence. Lest you think I am naïve or gullible on this score, I have Soren Kierkegaard is on my side. And who is Soren Kierkegaard, you might ask? Soren Kierkegaard is one of the greatest theologians that Christendom has ever produced. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Augustine, Athanasius, Luther, Calvin…Soren Kierkegaard is every inch their equal. And Soren Kierkegaard once wrote, “Coincidence is the divine incognito.” I am done boasting on my sons, and even though I love boasting on my sons, there is moral to this story. It is this. You don’t need to move heaven and earth to be a good Christian. You don’t need establish world peace or discover a cure for cancer. You just need, within your sphere of influence, to reflect love, joy, peace, patience, forbearance, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Because think about Jesus for a moment. Did you ever wonder why he taught so often in simple parables? It’s because his audience was the people of the earth, the Am ‘Haaretz as the Bible calls them. The people of the earth were kind of a combination of peasants and farmers. They were the common people. And Jesus didn’t teach them in his parables to overthrow Rome and establish the New Jerusalem. He taught them that they were the salt of the earth. He taught them not to worry so much about the things of this life. He taught them to seek after the kingdom of God. He taught them that their efforts mattered. He taught them to let their light shine. And speaking of Jesus, let’s reflect a little about our New Testament lesson. No, let’s reflect a lot about our New Testament lesson. Because it’s dumbfounding. Jesus was at the temple. Now the temple was a place of massive import. It was at the heart of Jerusalem. It was steeped in historical, political, and religious significance. It was a magnificent building. It was a place to be, so everyone was there. There were the religious authorities, the Sadducees, who presided over the sacrifices. There were those who made the sacrifices. There were pilgrims from all over the Diaspora. There were the people who came to be seen -- the rich and the powerful who made their flamboyant donations to the treasury. There were the people who came to gape at the rich and powerful as they made their flamboyant donations to the treasury. The place was, to put it mildly, a hub of activity. It would be hard to find the story line amidst all that activity. It would be like trying to find the story line at Time Square. But Jesus didn’t have any trouble finding the story line. The story line was poor, elderly, widow who made her way to the treasury to donate her pittance. I am surprised she had the temerity to be there in the first place poor -- elderly widow. She was of such negligible consequence, amidst all those other players. Imagine her standing in line with the rich and powerful. Probably what emboldened her is that she knew she was utterly invisible. But she wasn’t invisible to Jesus. To Jesus she was the story line. Her donation might have been small. It wasn’t going to get a wing of the temple named after her. But that’s not the point. The point is that she gave freely with the little she had. She gave faithfully with the little she had. She gave generously with the little she had. And that was enough for Jesus. And we too can be enough for Jesus if we emulate her example. Amen.