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| Where in life do you need God's help to rise again? |
Haggai 1:15b-2:9
Psalm 145:1-5, 18-22
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17
Luke 20:27-38
© 2025 The Rev. Seth Olson
This sermon was preached on the 22nd Sunday after Pentecost (November 9, 2025) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here.
Holy God, let my words be your words, and when they are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.
“He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”
There are moments in scripture where someone asks Jesus a question that sounds religious but really isn’t. The inquiry that kicks off today’s Gospel is one of those moments.
A group of Sadducees—religious leaders known for their wealth, influence, and skepticism—approach Jesus with a story they’ve carefully crafted to make resurrection seem as ridiculous as possible. My friend, the Rev. Charles Youngson, likes to say, “The Sadducees were ‘Sad, you see’ because they didn’t believe in the Resurrection.” They didn’t believe in it because they were the biblical literalists of their day, accepting only the first five books of Moses as authoritative. And, those books don’t explicitly mention resurrection, so they reasoned it couldn’t possibly be true.
And if you’ve ever read this exchange, you know—it’s kind of absurd. They present Jesus with this long hypothetical: “A woman marries one brother, he dies. Then she marries the next one, he dies. Then the next, and the next, until she’s married seven brothers. In the resurrection, whose wife will she be?”
It’s not a question of faith; it’s a trap. (And yes, Star Wars fans, I can’t read this passage without hearing Admiral Ackbar shout, “It’s a trap!”) The Sadducees’ question is less theology and more theater. They’re performing their cleverness, hoping to make Jesus look foolish. Thank goodness, we never do that to one another (he says with sarcasm dripping from his words).
But Jesus doesn’t take the bait, y’all. He doesn’t argue the logic or try to outwit them. Instead, he reframes the entire conversation. He refuses to play by their categories of ownership, possession, or legal status. He says, in effect, You’re missing the point.
The resurrection isn’t about whose wife someone is—it’s about whose life we all belong to. “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage,” Jesus says, “but those who are considered worthy of that age and the resurrection… cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God.”
And then he quotes the very scripture the Sadducees claim to honor: Exodus 3:6. God says to Moses, “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Notice the verb tense here—am, not was. God is—present tense—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Which means that even though they died long ago, they still live in God.
And then Jesus delivers one of the most remarkable lines in all of Holy Scripture: “He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”
Friends, that is resurrection. It’s not about biology—it’s about belonging. It’s not about life after death—it’s about life beyond fear. Resurrection means that life in God is never over, never lost, never gone. To God, all are alive.
That’s good news for those who grieve—but it’s also good news for those who live. Because if resurrection is real, then it’s not something we simply wait for—it’s something we participate in now. And on this Consecration Sunday, that’s exactly what we are doing: participating in the living work of God.
This morning, we’ll ask God’s blessing upon our 2026 pledge commitments—our Tell Out My Soul campaign. These estimates of giving aren’t just about maintaining the institution or paying the bills; they’re acts of resurrection faith.
The Greek word for resurrection literally translates “to stand up again. Resurrection is standing up again. After grief. After exhaustion. After doubt. After years when hope feels too costly or faith feels too fragile.
Every pledge, every act of generosity, every prayer for the future of this church—each is a form of rising again. A standing up again in faith. We stand up again as people of the living God, declaring that this community is vibrant. That Christ’s ministry with us is growing. That the Spirit still moves through us to bring healing, justice, compassion, and joy into a world that often feels like it’s dying of cynicism, apathy, and despair.
I think about this sanctuary—this holy space filled each week with the living presence of God and the living faith of God’s people. When a child splashes at the baptismal font or a choir anthem rises to the rafters, when bread is broken and wine is poured, when hands are held and prayers are whispered—these are not signs of a church that once was. No, you are the living, breathing Body of Christ here and now.
And our giving—our stewardship—is not a transaction. It’s an act of resurrection. It says, We believe in life. We believe in love that outlasts death. We believe in the God of the living.
The Sadducees’ mistake was assuming that death has the last word. Jesus’ answer tells us that the last word belongs to God—and God’s word is life. That truth is not abstract. It’s not only about heaven someday. It’s as close and as tangible as this moment—where we, the living, gather to commit ourselves again to the life of God in this place.
So let me offer you a question—not a trick one, but a real one: Where in your life do you need to “stand up again”? Where have fear, regret, or weariness kept you sitting down, holding back, staying small? Where do you need God’s resurrecting power to lift you up once more?
Because the God of the living invites us to rise—to trust that we are not done, that the story of Holy Apostles is not finished, that the story of your soul is not done. When we rise in generosity, in faith, in love, we proclaim resurrection in the here and now.
Years ago at my first parish, a parishioner on a fixed income confided in me, “I’m not sure my pledge will make much difference.” My response was, “You have no idea how much it will.” Because the miracle of resurrection is that even the smallest seed of faith can grow into something beautiful—much like the mustard seed Jesus spoke of earlier in Luke.
Even the smallest act of generosity can change a life. Even the faintest prayer of hope can ripple through this community and raise someone else up. That’s what the Church is meant to be: a gathering of people who stand up again and again, trusting that God’s life flows through us, through our giving, through our love.
So today, as we offer our 2026 pledges, as we tell out our souls, we do so not as people trying to prove something to God, but as people already held in the life of God. We give because we are alive. We serve because God’s Spirit breathes in us. We hope because resurrection is real.
The same God who raised Jesus from the dead raises us still—raises our courage, our compassion, our commitment—to build up the ministry of Christ Jesus in this place. We are, all of us, standing up again. And when we do, the world catches a glimpse of what resurrection looks like: not only life after death, but life before death. Not only heaven to come, but heaven breaking in—right here, right now.
“He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”
That means Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are alive.
That means Mary and Elizabeth are alive.
That means the Holy Apostles and all beloveds who have gone before us—their love, their faith, their generosity—are alive.
And that means you and I are alive too.
Alive to give.
Alive to love.
Alive to rise...
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
