Casey Ulrich

Preached January 25, 2026 at St. Luke Lutheran Church, St. Paul, MN
Third Sunday after Epiphany, Year A Texts: Matthew 4:12-23
Bristol Reading

The Gospel of John opens with poetry about Jesus as the light of the world. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Today, we heard the same theme from the Gospel of Matthew: “the people who were in darkness have seen a great light, and for those in the shadow of death light has dawned.” Matthew tells us this at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry, to make sure we don’t miss that the kingdom of heaven has come near in this person, this messiah, this savior. It breaks over the horizon like the first piercing ray of morning.

Matthew borrowed those words about light from an ancient prophet, Isaiah. Isaiah, of course, got them from God, who proclaimed them to a people who had been crushed by war and oppression, a people who felt hopeless and abandoned. People in Matthew’s day felt that way, too; a different oppressor but the same weight of violence and poverty.

Why does the promise of Christ’s light always come with a mention of deep darkness? Because the promise of dawn is most potent in the darkest watches of night. In the brightness of afternoon, it does not seem so hard to imagine that the sun will come up again tomorrow. It is in the long lonely hours, the fearful hours, the sleepless hours, when it seems hardest to cling to that promise.

These are those times here in our community. It is really dark. There is a lot of fear and chaos and violence. And the weight of all this falls most heavily on the vulnerable: sick people trying to get healthcare, children unable to go to school, families made unsafe in their own homes. You don’t need me to read you the headlines of this particular darkness. I hope you are staying informed and engaged in the way that’s right for you.

What I do want to do is remind you that the central message of Christianity, “the good news of the kingdom,” as the Gospel writer calls it, is made for times like these. It speaks most clearly to those walking through darkness.

Because Christianity is not a religion of conquest and triumphalism, of ease and success. It is a religion of self-sacrifice and mercy. It is a religion that proclaims love for enemies and welcome for outcasts. It is a religion centered around Jesus’ death on the cross – could you get any further from conquest and triumphalism, any further from ease and success? Honestly, it’s a religion for losers: those who have lost, those who are lost. And that’s true long before Jesus gets to the cross…

When God first comes to be a person, God is born a poor person in an oppressed community living at the fringes of an empire. God is not born as an important person to an important family in an important place. God is born the son of a young woman and a woodworker! Ordinary. Unimportant. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth,” people
will ask, that’s how marginal the place was.

When Jesus launches his public ministry, he doesn’t gather to himself the most educated or influential people. He doesn’t pursue wise religious or political leaders. He goes out of his way to recruit everyday peasant laborers. Ordinary, unimportant people. It’s not that they’re the best he can find; it’s that they’re exactly who he’s looking for. Just nobodies:
fishermen, tradesmen.

When we read the phrase, “I will make you fishers of people,” I think we tend to put too much emphasis on the second part. We wonder, what does it mean to be fishers of people? The line itself is cute and clever – it sounds tailor made for Sunday School crafting. People who fished for fish will now fish for people as evangelists.

But the work Jesus called the disciples to do with him wasn’t cute or clever. It involved taking serious personal risk to spend time with people who were even less important than the fishermen. People who couldn’t even contribute to society, who could certainly never pay back any good done for them. People who were sick or disabled. The elderly, widows, children. These were people with little means, little power. Or, even worse, Jesus and the disciples spent time with people who were considered to be damaging to their communities: sex workers and tax collectors. Immoral, irredeemable people. “Sinners.”

And again, it wasn’t just that these were the people that Jesus attracted, although that was clearly true. But Jesus says that he’s specifically pursuing such people. He has come to “seek and save the lost,” he says. He’s looking for all these nobodies. He wants to be spending his time healing and feeding and restoring and forgiving and helping the people most in need, what he calls “the least of these.” That’s the whole point, Jesus says!

Do you think those fishermen knew when they dropped their nets that they’d spend all their time serving in this way? Do you think they’d have gone with Jesus if they had known? Until the end, some of the disciples thought they were called to follow Jesus in order to win They’d get places of honor in his throne room. They’d inherit riches from his kingship. That’s where they thought this was heading!

As it became clearer and clearer they were following Jesus to lose, they resisted. Some tried to outright prevent it. Think of Simon Peter telling Jesus he can’t allow himself to suffer or, later, drawing his sword to hold off the soldiers who come to arrest Jesus in Gethsemane. And when Jesus was arrested, many of the disciples just fled altogether. How could this be the mission, they wondered? How could this be the fate of the Messiah? They did something we are awfully familiar with these days: they hid inside and locked the doors in fear.

Didn’t I tell you Christianity isn’t a religion for winners? Jesus is killed on the cross. Not just any death but death at the hands of an oppressive empire. A death that involved torture. A death that was designed to humiliate, to subjugate others into fearful submission.

And Jesus says his followers are on the same path. Jesus says, “Anyone who would follow me needs to take up their own cross, needs to be ready to lose their own life for the sake of love.” “Take up your cross” is not nearly so clever or cute a call to discipleship, is it? But that’s what those fishermen were in for.

When I said we focus too much on the second half of Jesus’ line, “I will make you fishers of people,” I mean we don’t focus enough on the first half: “I will make you.” Not as in “I will force you.” Jesus is inviting, not coercing. What he means by “I will make you fishers of people” is “I will transform you into fully equipped disciples.” “I will strengthen you to be up for the task ahead of you.” “I will enable you to do what is needed.”

What skills did these ordinary fishermen have to be part of the revolutionary movement of ushering in the kingdom of God? Well, they had fishing skills. Had they been builders, Jesus would have told them, “I will make you builders of the kingdom.” Had they been teachers, Jesus would have told them, “I will make you teachers of the Gospel.” Had they been parents or grandparents, Jesus would have told them, “I will make you caretakers for all God’s children.”

You only have to bring to this work the skills that you have. It will never feel like enough. Because you will always feel too ordinary and unimportant for something as momentous as ushering in the kingdom of God! That’s why you need to listen to the “I will make you” part of the phrase. God will give you the strength and courage to apply whatever meager skills you have to the all important work of embodying the good news of Jesus.

None of this is about winning. All of this is about loving. It is about loving with what you have where you are right now. It is about loving the people that are in front of you, whether friends or strangers or even enemies. It is about being so deeply invested in the work of that love that any loss it costs you is pointless next to the gain of the good and abundant life that is shared in Christ for all. You are called to be only who you are – fisherman, tradesman, teacher, caretaker. You are called to do only what you can as long as you’re doing it in love.

And this is the thing I want to say about that love. It will go with you into the darkest of times. It will go with you into the depths of human suffering. God has already shown that through Christ on the cross. This is a religion made for people who hurt, people who mess up, people who lack. It was always about that: Jesus went right toward that in his ministry, and he never wavered all the way to the cross, where he himself suffered and hurt. Christ shows us God’s deep solidarity with humanity’s suffering. Anytime you are brokenhearted, you are drawn all the closer to the heart of God. You are drawn all the closer to the suffering of Jesus.

But that love, which we have been given… that love, to which we are called… it has the power to break through darkness. God has already shown that, too, in the empty grave. Sunrise comes. A new day breaks. The stone is rolled away, and death has not held him. Evil has not defeated him. Anyone who thought love wouldn’t win was wrong.

When those disciples were huddled in fear behind those locked doors, the risen Jesus came to them, and said, “Peace be with you. As I was sent to you, so I send you to the world.”

Don’t be afraid. Not because there’s nothing to fear, but because there’s work to be done. And you are the ones to do it. You, the ordinary, unimportant disciples of Jesus. You, the fully-equipped, God-powered disciples of Jesus. You are the ones to do it. The love of Christ is your work now, and you don’t need to be anything other than what you are to do it. God has made sure of that. Amen.

Today I overhead someone on the phone today asking, “why would someone risk their lives and die for politics?” First, I wouldn’t say they died for politics; they were killed for politics.

Either way, it made me pause for a second and consider why I feel so compelled to speak out and show up in this moment. Have I changed since I left my small town roots? What it the last decade that formed my beliefs and conviction? Sure, those experiences have profoundly shaped who I am and how I show up in the world but, no, this calling to be present for my neighbor and to speak out against the tyranny we see in the streets of the Twin Cities are shaped from my childhood; by the values I was taught in my small town.

I think this is wonderfully encapsulated in the Eagle Scout Challenge which was read to me upon my receiving the Eagle Scout Award in 2007.

The foremost responsibility of an Eagle Scout is to live with honor. To an Eagle Scout, honor is the foundation of all character. The Eagle Scout knows that “A Scout is trustworthy” is the very first point of the Scout Law for a good reason. An Eagle Scout lives honorably, not only because honor is important but because it is vitally important to set an example for other Scouts. Living honorably reflects credit on your home, your place of worship, your troop, and your community. May the white of the Eagle badge remind you to always live with honor.

The second obligation of an Eagle Scout is loyalty. This means being true to your family, Scout leaders, and your friends, school, community, and nation. Loyalty to the troop and your fellow Scouts makes you pitch in and carry your share of the load. All of these help to build the loyalty that means devotion to community, to country, to one’s own ideals, and to God. Let the blue of the Eagle badge always inspire your loyalty.

The third obligation of an Eagle Scout is to be courageous. Courage has always been a quality by which people measure themselves and others. To a Scout, bravery means not only the courage to face danger, but also the determination to stand up for what is right. Trusting in God, with faith in your fellow citizens, you can look forward to each day, seeking your share of the world’s work to do. Let the red of the Eagle badge remind you always of courage.

It’s a challenge to all of us, not as Eagle Scouts, but Americans.

May each of us continue to live honorably, in devotion to our community and country, and the courage to stand up for what is right, seeking our share of the world’s work that needs doing.

If you only knew the Twin Cities through a 15-second Reel, you’d think we were a constant hellscape. You’d see the pepper spray, the shouting matches in parking lots, and the tactical gear. You’d think the air here is made of nothing but tension.

In many ways social media is telling the truth and, in others, it’s missing the mark. The videos are true and those moments exist. I mean, what do you think will happen when you force a bunch of Feds on a city that didn’t ask for it? We may be a bunch of liberals but we’re still Americans. “Don’t tread on me” is part of our collective ethos, woven into each and every one of us as Americans.

But most people in the Twin Cities are not out protesting. The untold story is so much deeper.

It’s in the love and anxiety of a mother whose children now carry passports in their backpacks on the way to school—just in case.

It’s in the tears of a person who pulls me close when I tell them, “Estamos pensando en ustedes.”

It’s in the classrooms that sit half empty and the teachers, who clearly weren’t doing enough, now organizing grocery runs for families unwilling to risk leaving their homes.

It’s in the use of anonymous names and encrypted chats because of the fear for our safety and the safety of our neighbors.

It’s in my own tears driving to work, praying that this will all end soon; in the knot in my stomach, knowing that life carries on regardless of the chaos – a normal workday as if everything is the same as it has always been.

It is the sick feeling that arises when you leave the grocery store only to find ICE agents taking a man who just stepped off the bus. I don’t feel safer. I find myself watching over my shoulder – for myself and for my neighbors.

There is also the continuation of life as usual. The unsettling juxtaposition of watching someone swept into a car by masked men and then flipping to my budget app to remember how much I just spent on bread.

It’s the exhausting balance of sadness and productivity, fear and hope. It’s the life we are actually living in the Twin Cities—the parts that aren’t loud enough for an algorithm, but are heavy enough to weigh us down on a daily basis.

Lately, my phone has been a bridge to two different worlds. My conservative friends reach out to offer perspectives or point out hypocrisy; my liberal friends reach out in a firestorm of anger. In the middle of it all, I am simply grieving.

To my conservative friends, I understand you see what is unfolding through your life’s lens, grounded in your experiences and your beliefs.

I’ll speak for myself – in this moment, I’m grieving. Grieving for this beautiful country full of love, compassion, innovation, and endless optimism that is hard to recognize. Grieving for the parents separated from their children, for the fear young children have walking home from school.

What I hear from you and conservative pundits is, “It was a tragedy what happened, but…”

Right now, what I’m asking is to pause with the “but”. I don’t have the capacity to process the ‘but’ right now. I’m not going to hear it. It’s not the way the brain works when grief and trauma hijacks the brain.

Sit with me in my grief. Pray with me. Let your heart feel the pain and hear the cry of the many that yearn for a better world. That’s what I need from you. Love me for who I am in this moment without worrying about if you’re right and I’m wrong.

To my liberal friends, take a deep breath. Our anger and frustration are only helpful if it motivates us to make the world a better place. I understand your frustrations and, I too, want to lash out at the lack of humanity we’re seeing and channel my frustration at folks who voted for Trump.

But to shout that out on social media and then go back to your everyday life, holding those emotions, changes nothing. If anything, it makes things worse – that’s not healthy for you or the way to make a change in the world. Take a break from social media. If you’re like me and are dragged down the rabbit hole of horrific reels, I implore you to shut it off, take a break.

A colleague reminded me today that joy is an act of resistance. Find joy this weekend outside of a computer screen. Join a rally. Go for walk. Take a deep breath. Joy and self-care are more radical in this moment than another angry post.

My Challenge to Everyone

When our country was founded E Pluribus Unum was added to the great seal – Out of Many, One.

Despite our differences and disagreements, we must learn to come together and to see the decency in one another. It begins with our community and ourselves. Get to know your neighbors, attend local city council meetings or school board meetings, shovel your neighbor’s driveway. Try out a new idea “I disagree with you but I’ll sit with you in these emotions”. Hell, name your own emotions that are coming up. Host someone to watch a playoff game*. Offer to babysit someone’s kids. Learn a new hobby.

To be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing – Raymond Williams

One thing I’ve tapped into for my own healing this week is music. Here’s a little Johnny Cash that I hope both liberal and conservative can enjoy.

*important note: Bears still suck

For those whose hearts and prayers are with Minnesota, thank you. It is a dark moment in our city and state.

We are still healing from the reckless murder of students in a church just months ago. Now, we find ourselves mourning again – this time, a mother killed by the very government sworn to protect its citizens. For this reckless murder, it is difficult to imagine there will be justice. For this reckless murder, cowardice will be spun as self-defense, a murderer painted a hero that saved precious lives rather than ended one.

We mourn our neighbors that are being abducted by cowards unwilling to show their face. Our hearts break for the families torn from each other’s arms and the children assaulted in a school parking lot for just trying to be kids but were born in the “wrong place”.

But to those not here, in Minnesota, also know that our community is strong and organized. There is strength in our community and enough love to outshine the darkness. I continue to remind myself that community is the antidote to despair and grateful to work with and know so many of the good people serving at a time where it’s easier to hide behind a screen.

When I feel anger and hate bubbling up for all of those causing the pain in our city, I challenge myself to be better. Better than the hate and fear that is the goal of the darkness. To hate the actions of the federal agents and the entire system that has led them here and at the same time consider how to love their humanity in hopes that one day they may recognize the humanity in those they cast out.

Only when I am reminded of the most difficult command – to love my enemy – am I able to come back down from the suffocating clouds of rage and fear in order to step into action. I can once again recall the gratitude I have for my community and continue with the work ahead.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. – Martin Luther King Jr.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

Thank you for reading or sharing. We shall overcome. Let’s get to work.

These are a list of questions to ask schools in an interview to make sure the school is the right fit for you and that you can be as knowledgeable as possible when you start the role.

Staff Culture + School Organization

1. What is the staff culture like – is it more collaborative or more independent? How do teachers collaborate?
2. How is the school organized/structured (teams/departments)? Why?
3. How do you collect feedback from teachers? What do you do with that feedback?
4. How are decisions made at the school? (Ex: How were schedules planned for distance learning?)
5. How do you spend PD time?
6. What opportunities exist for teacher leadership? How can teachers make change in the school?
7. Is there a culture of observation at the school? What does that look like?
8. How is the schedule determined? Why?

Student Support

1. What structures for student support exist? How are Ss needs’ supported? Who on staff (in addition to teachers) is available to support students? 
   1. Follow up: Do you have an advisory system? What does it look like? (If not) how is student support structured?
2. What resources are available to students who are struggling?
3. Is push-in support available? From who? How is this organized?
4. What supports are available for English learners and/or recent immigrants?
5. What percentage of your students fail classes? Why do you think they fail?
6. Who do you think are the school’s least-served students? What is the school doing to support them?
7. How are students celebrated at school?
8. Different ways of asking one question around behavior:
   1. What is your school’s model for handling behavioral challenges? 
   2. What is your school’s disciplinary model? 
   3. What happens at your school when a student is having challenges in class or a bad day? 
   4. How are behavioral challenges managed at the school level? How are relationships maintained? 
   5. Ask for an example?

Equity and Identity

1. How does your school implement systems/structures to ensure equitable learning for all? How do staff work to disrupt inequities in their classroom/their own practice?
2. How are teachers pushed to examine their identity and how their decisions support/disrupt inequities in their practice?
3. How are issues of race/class/gender/identity discussed among staff? 
4. How are issues of academic and/or social status addressed in (and out) of the classroom?

Policies/Rules

1. Are there any policies around behavior and/or attendance that have led to conflict and/or been changed over time? What policies/why? What might be changed in the future?
2. What policy has been particularly difficult?
3. Cell phones????
4. What does the end of the semester look like? Summative assessments? Exams, portfolios? Celebrations?
5. Is there a grading policy? What is the philosophy around grades? What are teachers asked to do?
6. Who decides policy or restrictions around ______ (EL, special ed, etc)? What are the constraints for teachers?
7. Is there tracking? How? Why?

General Big Questions

1. What are the biggest problems/challenges at your school? What are you doing to fix these?
2. What are your school’s strengths? 
3. What do you hope to change/work on in the future? What’s in the plans for the next few years?
4. How do you build community at school? What does positive school culture look like?
5. What does family engagement look like?
6. What are your school values? How are they enacted?
7. How do you work to honor Ss in school and make them feel smart / make them feel like they belong?
8. What in your opinion makes an extraordinary teacher? What are you looking for in your teachers?
9. What are some books you would recommend to better understand your school?

To ask students

1. What do you like?
2. What do you wish you could change? Magic wand…
3. Do you feel successful?
4. What is a problem in your school? 
5. What is important to your teachers/Do your teachers care about you? 
6. Do you think your school is fair?
7. Rules?