Lectionary Commentaries for August 23, 2026
Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

I am a movie buff, and our text today reminds me of a powerful, profound, action-packed movie titled Vantage Point. Though I admit that it is not one of my favorites, it would be included on the list of my high-ranking honorable mentions. Released in 2008, this cinematic offering starred Dennis Quaid and Academy Award–winning actor Forest Whitaker and was about an assassination attempt on the President of the United States. The most interesting aspect of the movie, and I dare say what makes it so brilliant, is that it is told and retold through the eyes and experiences of the various characters. 

The movie begins with the audience watching from the perspective of a spectator, until the attempt on the President’s life. Then the movie literally rewinds to the beginning, starts over, and follows the same series of events, yet through the different experiences of other individual characters, allowing viewers to walk with them through their day leading up to the assassination attempt. I thought this to be phenomenal, not only because of the movie’s daring creativity and the amazing amount of expertise and high-level execution it takes to pull such a project off, but also because it takes raw courage to tell the same story through the lens of different characters, allowing others to watch the interactions with people from all sides with unfettered objectivity. 

Whether the audience knew it or not, they were blessed to have the opportunity to see the story from all sides, which gave them a peculiar sense of power because they knew what the people in the movie did not and could not know. You see, the writers presented the story in such a way that we knew the narrative from each character’s vantage point while they only possessed the purview of their own experience. 

Perhaps the filmmakers are suggesting that part of the fallenness of the human condition is that we are so enamored with our own perspective that we often overlook, discount, or even disregard the stories of others. However, in this movie, the viewers did not have to worry about that because the writers shielded us from a myopic, one-sided perspective; they showed us the whole story from multiple perspectives and gave us a true vantage point. It was a fantastic endeavor, one that we audaciously aim to accomplish today.

In today’s biblical narrative, we encounter three distinct vantage points most urgently. The primary and hardest for us to understand would be that of Jesus, the Christ. The other two vantage points, with which we are probably most familiar, are (1) that of the disciples and (2) that of the Pharisees and Sadducees. We are most familiar with these because, whether we want to admit it or not, we have played both in the narrative of our own lives. While we endeavor to star as the faithful disciples of Christ in the theater of our own minds, we often inadvertently put God to the test through our thoughts and actions, taking on the roles of Pharisees or Sadducees. As a result, the vantage point of all three becomes penultimate in the exegesis, the preaching, and the application of this text. 

The Pharisees and Sadducees were under pressure. The growing positive and popular public opinion of Jesus, the renegade from Nazareth, was becoming a more significant issue than they had thought. The Pharisees were having problems because Jesus, by their own admission, spoke like one “with power and authority,” while the Sadducees were concerned about what he was saying. The Sadducees were a wealthy priestly sect with authority over the Temple. Jesus’s preaching about the poor, the injustices in the Roman Empire, and giving personhood to the lost, the last, and the least was making waves. So, to test Jesus, they asked for a sign. Jesus responded by saying, “Beware of the yeast.”

This is important because yeast in the Bible represents falsehood or false doctrine. Jesus warns the people about the Pharisees and Sadducees by saying, “Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” The disciples, from their vantage point, are in a panic because they forgot to buy bread. Jesus says “No, y’all don’t get it, I’m talking about the yeasty or false traditional teachings of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” 

Jesus is telling them that if their teaching is devoid of love or simply preserves tradition, it’s yeast. Watch out for traditions that don’t lead with grace, for attitudes that major in negativity and judgment but are devoid of love and understanding, and for personalities and positions that posture in power without having the sensitivity and humility of Christ. Watch out for the yeast, Jesus says. However, it took a moment for the disciples to understand what he was saying. 

Have you ever been there? Have you ever been in a season where, though you’re in a deep relationship with Christ, you are struggling to understand what he is saying? This was the plight and vantage of the disciples for most of this passage.

Finally, Jesus, possibly knowing that the disciples’ ears were in the streets, asks them a jarring question as they come to Caesarea Phillipi: “Who do people say that I am?” After several answers from the group, Jesus asks the most important question, and I paraphrase: “Dear Ma’am or Sir, from your vantage point, who do you say that I am?” Peter, as Peter does, blurts out an answer. But it turns out to be a profound confession: “You are the Christ, Son of the living God. 

There it is. This, I believe, is the primary concern from Jesus’s perspective regarding us. More than anything, Jesus wants for us, based on our vantage point, to answer that question: “Who do you say that I am?” The question has been asked; what do you say? Amen and Ase’.

During difficult times, many of us look for people, relationships, or objects that ground us. We often seek reminders that amid changing and uncertain times, there is something (or someone) that is constant, dependable, and trustworthy. 

As a child in church, I remember hearing testimonies and songs that juxtaposed the constancy of God with the unpredictability of life. In the African American churches I have called home, God’s history of faithfulness was a foundation for our collective identity as a people and our present hope. “Didn’t my Lord deliver Daniel … why not every man?” was a refrain that regularly lifted spirits, encouraged souls, and inspired actions. Our text in Isaiah 51:1–6 follows a similar pattern of reminding the nation of their origins, God’s history with them, and how both become sources of hope amid changing and uncertain times.

A Godly past

Isaiah 51:1b tells the nation to “look (nabat) to the rock (tzur) from which you were hewn.” The instruction to look does not just mean to see, but to be attentive to what one is viewing. By attending to the rock that is identified as a raw material for the nation, they are reminded that the nation, like the rock out of which they were cut, is strong, stable, and sure, especially amid changing and uncertain times. The author continues this appeal to the nation’s origins as a source of strength and a reminder of God’s faithfulness by invoking God’s relationship with Abraham and Sarah (Isaiah 51:2). This verse reminds the nation that their very existence is evidence of God’s fidelity and power to fulfill divine promises. 

Though Abraham “was but one when I called him” (Isaiah 51:2), God’s blessing and provision took one couple and made their descendants into a nation. Like many prophetic texts, the nation is exhorted to have confidence in God’s present deliverance because they know (or should remember) the stories of God’s past salvation. Moreover, the passage invokes God’s creative perfection that Eden embodied as an indication of what God can (and will) do for this people (Isaiah 51:3a). Perhaps most importantly for a decimated community, the authors of Isaiah remind the audience that the God who created Eden will transform the nation’s present wilderness into this idyllic “garden of the LORD.” 

The dire circumstances of this present predicament do not reflect a decline in God’s power or purpose. As Hebrews 13:8 declares, God is “the same yesterday, today, and forever.” This constancy of character provides confidence that God’s conduct will be consistent across time—a hope that the remaining verses describe. 

A hope-filled future

The invocation of Eden frames a series of promises of restoration God makes to the nation. During the challenges Neo-Babylonian domination presents, the author reminds the people of God’s commitments to comfort Zion and bring her citizens joy and gladness (Isaiah 51:3). In Isaiah 51:3, the authors emphasize that God’s deliverance is coming quickly and drawing closer. Thus, the reversal of the nation’s fortunes is not a promise for some distant time or an unborn generation. Rather, it is imminent and, by implication, the citizens of Judah should prepare themselves for God’s movement. 

Like other passages in the concluding chapters of Isaiah (for example, Isaiah 56), the restoration of Israel has multiple functions. One of the functions is that Israel becomes a beacon of God’s justice and righteousness not just to Israel but “to all nations” (Isaiah 51:4–5). Although God’s redemptive actions commenced with Israel, they are neither controlled by nor contained to Israel. 

Thus, the transformation of Israel is a quasi-downpayment on God’s work for the benefit of all creation. Indeed, the impending eruption of God’s righteousness and salvation into history is the only enduring reality upon which the nation can rely. According to Isaiah 51:6, the heavens, earth, and its inhabitants will not last. Rather, God announces, “My salvation will be forever, and my deliverance will never be ended (teꜧat)” (Isa 51:6b). 

This concluding verse emphasizes that salvation and deliverance have one owner—God. As a result, the nation should not look to any other source for God’s redemptive work. Additionally, the authors record that God’s deliverance will not be ended (teꜧat). The Hebrew term translated as “ended” can also mean to be broken or shattered. At a time when the nation feels broken, shattered, and scattered, God’s concluding promise encourages the nation that God’s deliverance endures and will not be broken. 

The surety of the unbreakable promise of God’s deliverance points back to the rock and quarry at the beginning of this passage out of which God formed the nation. God formed the nation from a material that endures, and God will restore the nation with something even more durable—namely, God’s salvation and deliverance. 

A present reminder

Within Christian traditions, Isaiah 51 appealing to a rock as the source or raw material constituting God’s community is reminiscent of the Matthew 16 passage included in this week’s lectionary readings. For both communities, stability, surety, and safety can be found in remembering one’s relationship with The Rock who is their foundation. Whether in the tumult of the sixth century BCE, the turbulence of the first century CE, or the tempests of the 21st century CE, God invites God’s people to remember their source. This remembrance, in turn, frames how they conceive of their identity and relationship to an ever-changing (and often violent) world. 

In the biblical contexts, the institutions of God’s righteousness and salvation are described as the only sure, certain, and appropriate object of the people’s attention. In our modern world, the church is invited to join these millennia-old choruses to remind people of what and who will endure. 

There is no one single biblical response to cruel systems of power and injustice: Even in this relatively brief selection of text, we see several different and creative ways women resist Pharaoh’s tyrannical commands. 

Pharaoh, this “new king [who] arose over Egypt,” did “not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). Ignorance in a leader is rarely good, especially when it is ignorance of the history of the leader’s own country. Not only is he ignorant, but he is also afraid that the Israelites, who are “more numerous and powerful” than the Egyptians, “will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land” (verse 10). This fear is what motivates Pharaoh’s plan to prevent Israelite population growth, attempts that will at each stage be thwarted. 

Pharaoh’s first attempt is setting taskmasters to abuse the Israelites with forced labor (Exodus 1:11), but verse 12 explains that the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied in number and grew. This echoes God’s command and blessing from the very first chapter in Genesis, that humans would “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). The Israelites are doing nothing wrong here, simply fulfilling God’s mandate. The terrible situation is because of the fear and power of the ruler of the land, not in any way a punishment for sin.

The second attempt centers on two midwives named Shiphrah and Puah, in contrast to the anonymous leader of Egypt who is simply referred to as “Pharaoh,” which is a generic term like “president.” Exodus 1:15 identifies the two as “Hebrew midwives,” but there is no consensus as to whether this means they are Hebrews themselves, or the (Egyptian) midwives of the Hebrews. 

We are told twice that Shiphrah and Puah “fear God” (Exodus 1:17, 21), and even that fact has interesting implications for their ethnicity. In many ways, it would make sense that they fear God because they are Israelites. But if they are Egyptian, it would demonstrate that even those who share Pharaoh’s ethnic identity do not agree with his policies, and fear God more than they do the pharaoh. Later in the book of Exodus, it is clear that God cares that the Egyptians would know who God is (see Exodus 7:5; 14:4, 18; 32:12), so Shiphrah and Puah would be included in that group. 

The pharaoh tells Shiphrah and Puah to look at the women when they are on the birthstool—many commentators note how odd it is that he is giving instructions to professional midwives—and if the baby is a son, they are to kill it, but they can let the daughters live. The idea is for Shiphrah and Puah to kill the male babies before they are fully out of the birth canal so they can say it is a stillbirth and won’t be accused of murder. Pharaoh wants to kill the males who might grow up and fight, though some commentators have noted that killing female babies would also decrease the population. 

But because of the aforementioned “fear of God,” the midwives do not obey Pharaoh’s command, instead telling him that the Hebrew women are so strong and vigorous, unlike the Egyptian women, that they give birth before a midwife can arrive. Note how the description of the Hebrew women as unusually strong would likely exacerbate Pharaoh’s fear of this people, almost like pushing on a bruise. Interpreters over the centuries are divided on whether the midwives are telling a lie. 

Among those who say that Shiphrah and Puah are lying is Augustine, who concludes that lies are never justified, and that the two are rewarded with their own families (Exodus 1:21) not for their deceit but their benevolence to Israel. Gregory the Great said that lying is reprehensible, and that the midwives received their reward on earth because they will get no reward in heaven. Martin Luther, however, wrote that the midwives were a model for living under pressures of persecution because they disobeyed unjust orders, and that their lies were justified because they were meant to aid rather than injure. 

Pharaoh’s third genocidal attempt at population control is to command all people to throw every newborn son into the Nile River. Technically, Moses’s mother, introduced in chapter 2 as “a Levite woman,” obeys this command: She does place her son in the river, albeit protected in a papyrus basket plastered “with bitumen and pitch” (Exodus 2:3). Those materials were used by Noah to make the ark waterproof (Genesis 6:13), and the Hebrew word for Moses’s basket, tēbâh, is the same word as for “ark.” 

Exodus 2:2 in the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition explains that when Moses’s mother “saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months,” which seems to suggest that his physical appearance is the only reason she hid him. However, the phrase is more literally “she saw that he was good (Hebrew tôb),” which echoes God’s seeing God’s creation as good in Genesis 1. 

Unlike the cinematic version of this in The Prince of Egypt, where the basket goes on a dramatic and dangerous journey down the Nile, the text tells us that Moses’s mother places the basket in the reeds along the bank of the river where it would likely remain stationary. Perhaps she knew that the location was where Pharaoh’s daughter would routinely come to bathe. 

For when Pharaoh’s daughter came there, she saw the basket, and when she opened it and saw the baby crying, “she took pity on him” (Exodus 2:6). The term “pity” has been criticized for suggesting a condescending idea of superiority and inferiority, but the Hebrew word, ḥamal, can also be translated as “compassion.” She recognizes him as a Hebrew child, one of those her father had commanded everyone to kill. Moses’s sister then speaks up, asking whether Pharaoh’s daughter wants a nurse from the Hebrew people to nurse the child for her. When Pharaoh’s daughter says yes, Moses’s sister gets their own mother to nurse her brother, and Pharaoh’s daughter pays her to do so. The lectionary ends with the notice that when the child grew up, his mother brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter; he became her son and was named Moses, a word similar to the verb “to draw.”

The midwives disobey Pharaoh’s direct order. Moses’s mother sort of obeys Pharaoh, but in a creative and roundabout way. Pharaoh’s daughter also disobeys her father, drawing the boy out of the river instead of throwing him in (and also giving money to a Hebrew woman to raise the child, thanks to Moses’s sister’s action). All of these women act in nonviolent ways; all of these women preserve life. 

The composer of Psalm 138 teaches us that the proper response to the Lord’s deliverance is gratitude.¹

Can you recall those times when our elders taught us what we were supposed to say at certain times? For example, they would urge, “What do you say?” when someone gave you something or did something nice. Of course, “Thank you” is the appropriate response. We see this sentiment demonstrated in Psalm 138, where the psalmist delivers a song of thanksgiving for having been rescued by God from danger.

Psalms as poetic divine-human discourse

The book of Psalms is often regarded as a hymn book; however, it actually contains a variety of literature, including hymns, prayers, litanies, and meditations. Not only is the book comprised of several genres, but there are also various types of psalms, which are recognizable by certain shared features.

The most common types are identified as prayers of lament and hymns. These can be individual or communal in form. There are also specific types of songs, which vary among scholars but are generally categorized as hymns or songs of praise, songs of thanksgiving, royal psalms, and wisdom poems.

Regardless of the types of psalms, perhaps what is most important to understand about the collection is their significance in the worship life of ancient Israel. The psalms express the divine-human relationship in poetry and should be regarded as “poetic discourse between Israel and God, who is said to hear and answer.”² This confidence in God’s listening and answering is evident in Psalm 138.

Psalm 138 begins with the superscription or title “Of David.”³ There are 73 psalms attributed to King David in the Old Testament. Davidic authorship of the psalms has both internal support within the book, such as Psalm 72, which concludes with “The prayers of David son of Jesse are ended” (New Revised Standard Version), and externally, as in the lament ascribed to him in 2 Samuel 1:17–27. Given that David was recognized as a musician and composer of psalms, a tradition arose claiming that he composed the entire book.

However, despite the association of certain psalms with personal events in David’s life, the superscriptions appear to have been added subsequent to the composition of the psalms. Therefore, the authorship of the individual psalms is likely unknown. This does not mean that David could not have composed any of the psalms. Nevertheless, the psalms were composed and collected over centuries, to include some attributed to David that were written after his death.

A heartfelt song of thanksgiving for God’s deliverance

Psalm 138 falls under the category of individual hymns or songs of thanksgiving (see also Psalms 18; 30; 32; 40:1–10; 66:13–20; 92; 116; 118; 138). Although the psalmist sings praises to the Lord, the community is not commanded to do the same, thus distinguishing the song of thanksgiving from a song of praise.

We can also discern from the first three verses that this is an individual psalm by the string of first-person singular verbs: I give you thanks (Psalm 138:1, 2); I sing your praise (138:1); I bow down (138:2); I called (138:3). What also distinguishes Psalm 138 as a song of thanksgiving from other types is the psalmist’s expression of gratitude in response to God’s deliverance from any number of trials or tribulations. For example, it might be rescue from danger, healing from sickness, or deliverance from enemies.

In Psalm 138, the psalmist does not specify the peril. At this point, the emphasis is on the psalmist’s confidence that when called upon, God responded by providing him or her with the strength to overcome their ordeal (138:3).⁴ Thus, given that the danger has passed, the psalmist can publicly attest to the Lord’s steadfast love or kindness (Hebrew khesed) and faithfulness or fidelity (138:2) exemplified by having been protected from harm. Yet, in Psalm 138 the psalmist gives witness “before the gods” (138:1) or divine assembly gathered around God’s heavenly throne perhaps to express the magnitude of the deliverance.

The psalmist shifts the focus from an individual thanksgiving to the praises of the Lord by the kings of the earth. Why should the earth’s kings praise Israel’s God? First, they do so because of what they have heard from God’s own mouth (Psalm 138:4). Although the psalmist does not reveal what God is said to have spoken, this likely refers back to Psalm 138:2, where God’s name and word or promises to Israel have been exalted. Second, they sing God’s praises because they recognize God’s greatness and glory (138:5).

Yet, the reader might be surprised to read next that the one who is above all other rulers in heaven or on earth and praised by the kings of the nations would consider those held in low stead with such high regard. Those in high places should take note that the Lord who sits high does not keep company with the arrogant (138:6).

The psalmist returns to extolling his or her confidence in God’s presence and protection while surrounded by those who pose a threat (Psalm 138:7). This should encourage us to have this type of trust in God’s steadfast love for us based on God’s promises. The psalmist gives testimony to having been rescued by God with an outstretched hand. The psalmist ends the song with a petition to God to continue to protect him or her according to God’s purpose for the psalmist.

Thus, we are offered an example of what we should do in response to God’s deliverance—give thanks with a grateful heart. But we really don’t need a reason to thank God, do we? Give thanks!

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for July 28, 2019.
2. Toni Craven and Walter Harrelson, “The Psalms,” in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible: New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, ed. Walter Harrelson (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 749.
3. The Hebrew preposition le could be translated “to,” “of,” or “for.” Thus, it might mean “for David” rather than “of David.”
4. Given that women could be singers and musicians at this time, it is appropriate to use the pronouns “her or him” when referring to the psalmist. For a detailed treatment, see Joel LeMon’s endnote on his 2019 commentary on Psalm 16.

After sorting through the discussion of God’s elect and God’s irrevocable call, gift, and mercy to both Jew and gentile, we come finally to one of Paul’s mighty “therefores.” In the letters of Paul, a “therefore” always signals a turn, usually an ethical response to what has gone before—what preachers call the “so what?” “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, on the basis of God’s mercy …” Paul might well have said, “I appeal to you, therefore, on the basis of this mercy of God I’ve been talking about …” It is on the basis of mercy—it is possible because of God’s mercy—it is essentially required of us consequent to this mercy—that we present ourselves, our bodies, as a living sacrifice to God.  

Initial observations in verses 1–2

• First is the apparent oxymoron to present our bodies as a living sacrifice and to think of that as a reasonable act of worship. Sacrificial language in Paul’s time and context involved slaying an animal to present on an altar. Sacrifices are not living, and it is not reasonable to suggest they are. Other translations say that presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice is “true and proper” worship (New International Version), and “appropriate priestly service” (Common English Bible). The Greek word, however, is translated “logical,” from which translators derive “reasonable.” It is only logical that believers present themselves as a living sacrifice to God in order to be transformed. This bodily sacrifice is our spiritual worship. Body and spirit are not divided. There is no spiritual sacrifice without the whole self submitting to God.
• Second is the admonition not to be conformed (or configured) to this age, but to be transformed. The people to whom Paul spoke were already conformed to this age, as are we. They were “of” this age, of this world. It is not a choice in front of us to be conformed to this age or to be transformed. It is not a neutral path we are currently on, only to be confronted by a fork in the road: conformed to this world in one direction, transformed by the renewing of our minds in the other direction. To be transformed by the renewing of our minds will require choosing a change from the present stasis of conformity to this world, this age. This requires a willful act to submit.
• Third is that transformation by the renewing of our minds is not to do the will of God but to discern the will of God. The call is to test or examine or scrutinize the will of God. Doing the will of God, we may surmise, is concomitant to, or only subsequent to testing or examining what is the will of God. Yet, we do not divine the will of God in a purely spiritual or metaphysical way in advance of actively living out the will of God. Rather, we discern, test, and examine the will of God by actively doing it.

None of the above—presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice, choosing a new way of life over our present situation, and testing the will of God—none of these is passive. All are active verbs, intentional actions: Present. Choose. Test.

The body functions as one

What follows in verses 3–8 is an echo from 1 Corinthians, which Paul would have written shortly before Romans. The encouragement to present our bodies as a living sacrifice and to discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect, is followed immediately by the call not to think of oneself more highly than one ought. Perhaps this is a warning that one’s discernment of the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect, could be lorded over another whose discernment might be considered less good, acceptable, perfect. 

Paul even makes clear that it is only by virtue of the grace given to him by God that he can admonish his readers not to think of themselves more highly than they ought. Paul does not admonish from a place higher than others, rather only by grace. The early believers in Corinth were inclined to value their own spiritual gifts more highly than others’. Paul rejects this. It is only by God’s grace that we have charisms, gifts of the Holy Spirit. It is only by sober judgment, not ecstasy, that we can evaluate our own gifts. And we exercise these gifts only by the measure of grace given to us. In other words, it is not about you! It is about the grace and mercy of God, who has called us to this life of faith and who gives gifts for the ministry of Jesus Christ.

The body metaphor that begins in 1 Corinthians 1:4 and is most succinctly described in 1 Corinthians 12 is summarized in our text in verses 4–8. Many parts make up the body, and though we are many, we are one. All parts serve a function, none of which is more important than another. Except for prophecy, all gifts of ministry are described according to their function, such as ministry in ministering, the teacher in teaching: noun, verb; noun, verb. Only prophecy is defined according to the measure of faith given. Perhaps the ones declaring the gift of prophecy were most inclined to think of themselves more highly. And perhaps those with the other gifts described were inclined to think of their gifts as less important. 

Whatever the gift, it is given according to God’s grace, exercised according to God’s mercy, and offered as a living sacrifice to God, our spiritual worship. If the gift is teaching, then teach; if it is ministering, then minister; if it is encouraging, then encourage. Do not try to be or do something other than the gift given.

Preaching angles

What does this mean for our preaching ministry?

1. Focus on active verbs: Present your bodies, your whole selves. Choose to be transformed over the comfort of the status quo. Discern, test, examine the will of God. 
2. Do the will of God in accordance with the gift given, knowing that no service, no gift is to be valued more highly than another.
3. Presenting our bodies, the whole self, for transformation is itself a sacrifice. Swimming with the current of the spirit of this age, the terms of the world around us, requires no sacrifice.  
4. Honor the gift given. It is only in the eyes of this world, this age, that one gift would be valued more highly than another. It is not coherent with gospel logic to elevate one over another. 
5. Preach against the text. Your congregation might think they have no gifts for ministry.  They may be discouraged, exhausted, defeated by apparent decline. It is not fruitful to tell such people of faith not to think more highly of themselves than they ought. Rather, encourage their observable gifts, and if some gifts appear to be missing, partner with other cells in the body of Christ to strengthen the witness in the community.