Last Sunday, I had the chance again to preach at St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church here in Lubbock, TX. If you’d like to watch my sermon, then you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/live/Apvh2WqW9zM?si=VNlagRrBDkhYkJ2m. While the whole service is great, the sermon start around the 23-minute mark and ends around the 40-minute mark. If you, like me, work better by reading, then you can just keep reading below:
6th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 9 – Year A)
July 5, 2026
St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church, Lubbock, Texas
Readings: Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Psalm 45:11-18; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Perhaps, some of you have read Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, but if you haven’t, this story follows the last human, Arthur Dent, after the earth has been destroyed for the “cosmically important” reason that our planet happened to be in the way of an intergalactic highway that the bureaucratic Vogons wanted to construct. Too bad for us.
Well, in the course of Arthur’s misadventures throughout the galaxy in this book, we are told the tale of an ancient and wise alien race that decided to build the ultimate computer to solve the question: “What is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything?”
Well, the computer takes a few million years to ponder and figure the matter out and then check its answer quite thoroughly. Then, with mechanistic certainty, the computer declares that the answer to the meaning of life…the universe…and everything…is —-
42. Yes, that’s right, the number 42.
Now, the obvious sarcasm of this answer is not lost in the book, but I’ve loved this question and answer for a long time because it reminds me that so often the answers we seek to the big questions – the questions that really matter – that those answers just might tell us that we’ve been asking the wrong questions.
When I first looked at Paul’s story here in the seventh chapter of Romans, I was reminded of 42. Because, there’s something missing here. Do you see it?
We get a sense of Paul’s struggle and frustration with sin.
He knows the good he should do.
He wants to do it (which is more than I can say for myself on most days).
He tries, and tries, and tries, but he keeps on making the wrong choices, making mistakes, falling short.
In the plot of his struggle, we see the rising action of his frustration so clearly.
“Who will rescue me from this body of death?”
And then…
All of a sudden, we are at the end of the story, the last sigh of relief after the resolution of the plot’s tension. Thanks be to God. It’s Jesus. Jesus is the Answer to the question.
But…How exactly? 42?
You see, that’s the kind of question I tend to ask. How?
Of course, that’s always been my problem: too many questions.
You see, I grew up in a denomination – that will remain nameless – that highly valued Paul. Oh, they talked a lot about Jesus, but they read Paul. And, this portion of Paul was so important to them – in fact, it was often one of the stops on what they called the “Roman Road” to “salvation” – which was a series of pithy verses pulled from the book of Romans (often out of context) to prove to a person that they were a horrible, terrible sinner (swell, right?). Well, let’s just say that they wanted to prove to a person that he or she had a problem – an eternal problem – that needed a solution, an answer – and that Roman road led to Jesus as “The Answer.”
Now, here’s where I got in trouble – I’ve always been more concerned with the questions than the answers. Often, I’ve felt like the answer is 42, and I have to go away by myself to puzzle out how in the world the question and answer match up. Often, an answer only leads me to more questions. Have you ever had that experience? If so, today, I would like for us to explore the further question on the other side of “the answer.”
And, I want us to start by looking at a mysterious, secret society…known as the Lectionary Writers!
You see, as many of you know, we use the Revised Common Lectionary, which means that on any given Sunday we have the same readings as every other Episcopal Church. Also, the Lectionary goes beyond that, we are reading the same texts – or very similar texts – as most Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Lutherans, and even quite a few Methodists and Presbyterians.
So, in selecting the readings for any given Sunday, the Lectionary writers often give some hints in how readings might fit together. And, they split up the Gospels among 3 years – A, B, and C – with Matthew, Mark, and Luke (we catch John most years during Easter)
So, since we’re in Year A – that Matthew passage where Jesus offers us rest seems to be an attempt to fill in “the missing solution” for Paul – how does Jesus rescue or “save” us, but…you know…
Matthew wasn’t the Gospel writer who traveled with Paul. That was Luke.
What if…Luke had heard Paul complain about this over and over. And, then, as he collected the eyewitness testimonies to Jesus, he happened upon it. He happened on the person’s story – a person so much like Paul, so concerned with making the right choices…of dotting all his t’s and crossing all his I’s (or maybe the reverse)…a person who actually got the answer from Jesus, he got the how.
To take a look at this hypothetical person, I want us to go to the 10th chapter of Luke, even though we are in Matthew’s year – because it is there, that another “lawyer” (which we should hear as a “canon lawyer,” not a “civil lawyer” – this is a religious expert) who has done all the right things, like Paul, chimes in with a question – “the” question – not what is the meaning to life, the universe, and everything, not who will save me from the body of this death, but “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
In v. 25, of the tenth chapter, he approaches Jesus like this:
25 An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.[a] “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
Okay, do you notice? Jesus is pretty slick here. This religion scholar, this Paul-type, he doesn’t ask a question to which he doesn’t already know the answer. He’s smart – he should go to the head of the class (and he knows it – he wants validation that he’s right).
So, Jesus makes him answer his own smug question.
And, of course, it could end right there. But, this religion scholar, a bit like Paul, can’t shut up when he’s ahead, he’s got to keep looking smart, so he asks another question: The question on the other side of the answer: “and who is my neighbor?”
Personal: Now, this one – ooh, it hurts for me — because, if you know me, then you know that I love defining things precisely – I can’t help but seeing myself right there. How about you? Do you ever find yourself – uncomfortably – identifying with a character you don’t want to? Well, as we keep reading, think about that – who are you in the story?
Jesus, then – remember Jesus is the Answer – then, he does it, he gives the answer – and he gives it in a parable, in a story, just like he always does. This is what he says:
30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite [we might say deacon], when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan while traveling came upon him, and when he saw him he was moved with compassion. [He didn’t pass by on the other side – he was moved with compassion] 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36 Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
So here we are – let’s set this “Good Samaritan” story right down into the missing middle of our plot with Paul: we have that rising action of sin after sin, mistake after mistake – I know the good I should do, but I can’t seem to do it, I’m frustrated, miserable, I’ve tried everything. Who will save me? … then … we have our thankfulness in resolution by saying “Jesus is the answer” – he made sense of it all for me.
But, our solution – the climax of the plot — let’s let Paul’s compadre Luke fill in the blanks:
- How do I inherit eternal life? Who can rescue me from this body of death? What is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything? – Nope, those are the wrong questions…
- We don’t need a question out there beyond tomorrow in the unforeseeable future. We need a question with an answer that we can use. That makes a difference today. Because, even when we finally reach the future…guess what, it’ll be today.
- The right question is not how will I be saved, live forever, get my reward, etc.
- The right question for today is “Who is my neighbor?”
- But even then, there’s a “how” question on the other side of that “who” question: How do I be a neighbor?
- And, Jesus makes us answer again that question: the Samaritan – the one we would least expect as our model, to show mercy, kindness – and then, and then…
- Jesus answers our question with an action: Go and do the same, go and show mercy, kindness to whoever needs it, go and do likewise.
Will we do it? Who are we in the story?
You see, there I go again, asking more questions. That’s always getting me in trouble.
How about you?
Amen.