A sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, September 7, 2025. The scriptures are Jeremiah 18:1-11, Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17, Philemon 1-21, and Luke 14:25-33.

My very first parish after ordination was in Havre de Grace, Maryland, about 30 miles north of Baltimore, on the Chesapeake Bay. Every Holy Week, the town had a really wonderful tradition on Good Friday. All of the churches in the town get together to walk the Way of the Cross. A hundred or so people usually attended, and the procession would make a stop for prayers and a short reflection at each of our churches and other significant public spaces. And each year, there was a large cross made of 4X4 lumber. The cross was big and heavy, but the tradition was that throughout the afternoon, people volunteered to share in carrying the cross. One person at a time might carry one section on their shoulder, like Jesus is often pictured, but was also really the case that others helped. No one ever carried the cross alone. There was backup. There were people on either side ready to take over, ready to lend a hand, ready to offer support.

There was always a woman from the Methodist church in her eighties who wanted to carry the cross. I watched as people allowed her to think that she was carrying it all by herself, yet I could see they were carefully supporting most of the weight themselves. A man in a wheelchair would carry it for a stretch, and a few of the children would team up to lend a hand. A retired priest helped, as did a Baptist missionary, and a few of my own parishioners. It was, for me, a powerful reminder of what it means to carry the cross, to share in carrying the cross.

To speak of the Way of the Cross may seem like a very strange thing on this Sunday at the beginning of September. And yet, it seems helpful that the scriptures invite us to reflect on our relationship with the Cross, this ever-present symbol of our faith, the words of Jesus, our own spiritual journey.  

In today’s Gospel, Jesus talks about our “taking up our cross,” but the other scriptures give background for where the cross points us.

In our first reading, God tells the prophet Jeremiah to watch the way a potter works. Just as the potter can make something beautiful, to be enjoyed by all; the potter also, can see flaws and problems, and can just as easily decide to smash the clay vessel and start over. Jeremiah is instructed to warn the people of God and remind them of the need to be vigilant in choosing the way of God, rather than the way of the world.


The Epistle Reading comes from the Letter of Paul to Philemon. Paul is writing to a wealthy Christian leader who has supported the Paul’s ministry and the spreading of the Good News of Jesus. Onesimus, was a runaway slave, and Paul is writing Philemon to ask that Onesimus be received and accepted as what Paul calls “more than a slave,” a beloved brother in the flesh and in the faith. For modern ears, this whole letter is problematic. We think about the history of chattel slavery in the Americas, and imagine that Paul is somehow justifying the enslavement of other people in ways that early American Christians did. To contemporary ears, we would prefer Paul to have been a couple of thousand years before his time and reject slavery altogether, and he doesn’t seem to do that. But for his day, Paul was probably sounding fairly radical to suggest to Philemon that he view Onesimus as a brother, and an equal in the eyes of Christ. Paul is suggesting that we are in this together, that the issues for Christians are never as simple as Philemon and his needs, but that how we treat one another is a part of following Jesus faithfully.

In the Gospel of Luke that we hear today, Jesus uses language drawing on the image of the cross. In talking about discipleship and following in his way, Jesus says, “Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple.”  But this is chapter 14, and the Crucifixion doesn’t occur in Luke until Chapter 23. It could be that Luke is using post-Crucifixion and Resurrection language to convey the importance of Jesus’ message, or Jesus could be drawing on what might have already been a cultural image representing service, sacrifice, and difficulty.

People sometimes describe their “cross to bear” as a cranky boss, an unpleasant relative, or we can speak of our “cross to bear” as justification for all kinds of things that we would better and would be more faithful to Christ by avoiding. The idea of “bearing one’s cross” is even sometimes used to justify behavior in a relationship is abusive or manipulative towards another. In such a situation, that’s not “a cross to bear” for the victim. It’s wrong and sinful and has nothing to do with God’s intention.  That’s just falsehood and nonsense.

To bear one’s cross, or to be ready to bear one’s cross is a way of expressing what it means to follow in the way of Jesus. And “to follow in the way of Jesus” means to follow with others. It has no meaning in isolation. It has to do with our being ready to give up our place for another. To give up our privilege, to give up our rights, even. It has to do with our attempts to put our own needs and desires and passions on hold long enough to look around and notice the needs of others.

To “take up one’s cross” in the sense that Jesus talks about it is a communal act and it has to do with being faithful to Christ, together.

A few minutes ago I described a Good Friday celebration that had to do with a literal carrying of a cross, but there are other ways that we engage in cruciformed community. There are other ways that we share one another’s burdens and can come to see the risen Christ in our midst.

When friends gather around one who is sick or awaiting results from a biopsy or test or is undergoing surgery, there is participation in the cross of Christ. The friends put themselves second, and lift up their friend who is in need.

When someone dies and the whole community is able to gather around the one who lives on, the cross of Christ is shared. In such times the cross can begin to feel like a kind of lifeboat or raft, the community of faith begin the only thing that perhaps keeps us afloat.

Whenever we move out of ourselves in mission, whether that by serving at the HTNC Saturday Supper, volunteering for another organization, helping a community after a disaster, volunteering to tutor a child, or even writing a check [yes, writing a check is a form of mission]—there is the possibility if not the probability of sharing in the cross of Christ. Our lives are re-oriented. Our priorities are realigned. Taking up our Cross has to do with moving towards the way of God, instead of turning away from God.

It turns out these scriptures have quite a lot to say to us at Holy Trinity at the beginning of a new fall? We have choices before us. Some of you perhaps wondering whether this is the church for you. Should you commit? Should you sign on the dotted line? Should you say out loud that this is your church home?

here may be others who are wondering whether it is time to return, to come home again. We’re glad to see you and you’re always welcome. And perhaps there are those whose church home is elsewhere but there’s something about Holy Trinity that tugs on your heart. There’s a place for you, too. And we want you to feel at home, whenever you can worship with us.

And then there are the troops; the loyal, the faithful, the tireless (but tired) who are the backbone of this place; the saints. You have choices as well—how do we best carry the cross into the future? What will carrying the cross together look like? How much will it cost? What will we sing and how will we pray along the way?

The Stations of the Cross at Holy Trinity are only put up in Lent.  And in a way, I really like that practice.  It means that when they are up, we are invited to find ourselves in those stations, and try to relate to the characters portrayed.  Jesus carries the cross, but he is also supported by others.

There is his mother Mary. There is Simon of Cyrene. There is Veronica. There are the strangers who walk along side, ready to support, ready to help, eager to share. And if you look really closely, you’ll begin to see people who look familiar—people from this church family who stand ready to help, to support, and to befriend.

When those Stations of the Cross are taken down, the image of them remains in our mind as an invitation for us to take their place.

Friends in Christ, I invite you to re-commit to the Way of the Cross that begins in this place. May we pray for each other, support each other, grow in faith and walk together in the way of the Cross until we see God face to face.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.