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May 4, 2008 April 27, 2008 April 20, 2008 April 13, 2008 April 6, 2008 March 23, 2008 Easter March 21, 2008 Good Friday March 20, 2008 Maundy Thur. March 9, 2008 February 17, 2008 February 10, 2008 February 3, 2008 January 20, 2008 January 13, 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 | May 4, 2008 The text version of the sermon, \"And Jesus Prayed\" is opened in Adobe Reader by clicking the link below. Text version of the sermon from May 4, 2008
The audio version of the sermon, \"And Jesus Prayed\", is opened clicking the link below..
Back To the Top April 27, 2008 The audio version of the sermon, \"The Hope Within Us\", is opened clicking the link below.. Audio version of the sermon from 27 April 2008 - for PC Audio version of the sermon from 27 April 2008 - for Mac Back To the Top April 20, 2008 The text version of the sermon, \"I Thirst\", is opened in Adobe Reader by clicking the link below. Text version of the sermon from 20 April 2008
The audio version of the sermon, \"I Thirst\", is opened clicking the link below..
Back To the Top April 13, 2008 The audio version of the sermon is opened clicking the link below.. Audio version of the sermon from 13 April 2008 - for PC Audio version of the sermon from 13 April 2008 - for Mac Back To the Top April 6, 2008 THE MAN NOBODY KNOWS
In 1925 an advertising executive named Bruce Barton published a book that would become a national bestseller. It was entitled The Man Nobody Knows. It is a decidedly Twentieth Century re-casting of the man from Nazareth. This book illustrates wonderfully what Albert Schweitzer observed some twenty years earlier. Schweitzer in his classic work, The Quest for the Historical Jesus, insisted that most biographies of Jesus tell us more about the biographer than they do about Jesus. Indeed, this book tells us a lot about Bruce Barton. About Jesus - not so much. Son of a Congregational pastors Barton became an advertising executive in what was then a very young industry. In fact, he became one of advertising\'s prominent pioneers. Consider some of his ideas. Barton came up with the concept of Betty Crocker, the iconic woman baker. He also proposed the name for that new automobile consortium - General Motors. On a roll, he dreamed up the name for a new electronics firm - General Electric. Evidently he liked the word \"General\'\'. Barton even gave the Salvation Army its motto: a man may be down, but he is not out.\" So during the Roaring Twenties this successful ad man wrote a biography about Jesus. Not surprisingly he made Jesus into a successful businessman. Sure enough Jesus uses the successful business model of \"surrounding himself with people in whom he saw great potential\". He told brief, engaging stories that captured people\'s imagination. For Barton, all the parables are really advertisements for the Kingdom of-God, the parable of the Good Samaritan being the best ad of-all time. Barton suggests that there were four traits of Jesus that were simply captivating. First, he had the power to create health in others. Second, he was hugely appealing to woman since, according to Barton, “weakness does not appeal to women”. Third, he loved being outdoors. Fourth, he had steel-like nerves and coverage. Now as I consider these four attributes, l am struck by the fact that two of them have never once occurred to me in my thoughts about Jesus. Is this really why Jesus appealed to women - the fact that he did not exhibit weakness? And the fact that Jesus was an outdoors kind of guy - is that significant? Not to me, but maybe that\'s just my problem. At the beginning of his book Barton describes the Jesus he learned about in Sunday school. Jesus seemed to pale into a weakling when compared with Daniel fending off attack in the lion’s den or David launching a smooth stone into Goliath\'s forehead or Moses raising high his staff-to give victory to the children of Israel. For young Barton, Jesus had \"no muscles and a sad expression\". Jesus was in his words \"sissified\", all too \"meek and lowly.\" So the adult Bruce Barton decided to write a book about Jesus that rectified all those misconceptions. The Man Nobody Knows gave us a hard driving Jesus who turns out to be the best businessman of all time, the greatest advertiser ever for the Kingdom of God. In short, a manly Jesus for the Roaring Twenties. So that\'s the man Barton wants us to know about. It is, in all honesty, a Jesus I hardly recognize. On the first night of my UNM class on Jesus and the Gospels I ask my students to write a one-page paper. They are to describe to Martians who have just landed on our planet who this Jesus is. So how would you describe Jesus in just one page? I take the the papers and give them back to the students on the last night of the course. Interesting what a semester of study will do for your understanding of Jesus. Often the students see what a limited view of Jesus they have entertained. Maybe they did not know much about him after all . In many respects Jesus is still the \"man nobody knows. ” Why\'? Because we all see Jesus with our own eyes, through our own prejudices. Whatever we know of Jesus will always be observed through a \"glass darkly\", filtered thorough lenses that are never completely free of our preconceptions. Perhaps everyone has had that problem with Jesus, even from the very beginning. And so it was for Cleopas and his friend walking back from Jerusalem to Emmaus a seven-mile hike to their hometown. They are talking about what happened to Jesus and they are no doubt depressed. It is possible that Cleopas\' wife Mary witnessed Jesus\' death, at least according to the Gospel of John (19:25). These disciples had hoped that Jesus was the one to redeem Israel. It was a long and lonely walk. Then the Risen One who nobody knows approaches Cleopas and his friend. The Risen One is incognito, hidden in plain view. In truth, their eyes were kept from recognizing him. The One nobody knows acts like he knows nothing. He questions Cleopas and his friend about what they were talking about. They cannot believe that this stranger knows nothing of what happened to Jesus. Perhaps there is a hint of humor here, as these two travelers on the road explain to the Risen One what happened to the Crucified One! Then they explain that some of-the women disciples claimed they had a vision of angels, telling them Jesus was alive. At this point this unknown stranger can take it no more. He scolds Cleopas and friend for their unbelief. And then he gives them a Bible lesson ranging from Moses through the prophets. The subject? How it was necessary for the Messiah to suffer and then enter into his glory. Perhaps this was not so much a verse by verse exposition as it was a look at God\'s dealings with Israel over the course of time. Israel finds herself suffering as slaves in Egypt when God liberates her and guides her through the wilderness into a land flowing with milk and honey. From out of suffering comes triumph. God has always brought Israel from suffering and death into new life. Cleopas and friend would later say that their hearts burned within them as this one unknown opened to them the Scriptures. When they arrived in Emmaus, they urge this knowledgeable stranger to join them for dinner. During the meal this one nobody knew broke the bread and blessed it and gave it to them. And at that moment their eyes were opened and they finally recognized him. The one nobody knew was revealed as the One they loved and cherished. And just that quickly he was gone, vanished from their sight. How they must have been astonished! And then Cleopas and his friend take off for Jerusalem as fast as they can. By the way, have you noticed all the running that takes place in these resurrection narratives? This is news - astonishing news - that sends you off at a full gallop. And when these two arrive in Jerusalem, they hear that Peter has seen the risen Lord. And finally they get to tell their story. And this is the punch line, \"The One we did not recognize was made known to us in the breaking of bread.\" Perhaps Jesus will always remain to some degree the one who nobody knows. There is a mystery about Jesus. How it is that Jesus is present when two or three are gathered in his name. How it is that Jesus \"knows our every sorrow\'\' as the old hymn says. How it is that Jesus is made known to us in the breaking of bread. In that Eucharist moment, our eyes are opened and we experience the Risen One, the same captivating presence that shared a meal with Cleopas and his friend at Emmaus.
The man nobody knows in fact desires to be known, to be loved, to be followed. He comes to us as One unknown and invites us to fellowship with hill. And he calls us to be transformed into his image-to become like him, to live like him, to love like him. Our companion along the way. Our host at the table. The One who wishes to be known. So be it.
Back To the Top March 23, 2008 Easter SOME WORSHIPPED, SOME DOUBTED
If only I had been there . . . If only I had seen what they saw. If only! How different would it have been for you? Would you have acted or felt any differently than Mary Magdalene or Simon Peter or the other women or the Beloved Disciple or Cleopas and friend or even Thomas? I suspect that their grief, fear, and doubt would’ve run through your heart and mind as well. Especially doubt—that’s the theme that runs throughout the Resurrection Narratives—sheer disbelief. Who could possibly believe what they were seeing? Here, seeing is not exactly believing. Maybe you cannot see what you do not believe. Mary Magdalene sees but does not recognize Jesus—she thinks he’s the gardener. Cleopas and his friend see but do not recognize Jesus on the road to Emmaus—they think he is a stranger among them. When Jesus appears to his disciples in Jerusalem they think they are seeing a “spirit,” and Luke tells us they “disbelieve for joy.” Maybe they simply couldn’t believe what they saw before them—the Risen Jesus! This does stagger the imagination and utterly challenges the mind. Doesn’t it? Who can believe this? In Matthew 28 on a mountain in Galilee, there is one version—verse 17—that sums up the reaction to the Risen Jesus. This verse says “When they saw him, they worshipped him. But some doubted.” I consider Matthew 28:17 to be the mother of all doubt passages—the single most intriguing and surprising verse in the New Testament. On that mountain in Galilee, the Risen Christ stands before them—visibly, palpably, shimmering the sun. Some fall to their knees in worship, while others doubt. Here clearly it seems they are seeing, but not believing. Astonishing, isn’t it? So if you had been there—what would you have done? Fall on your knees, “lost in wonder, rapt in praise” or stood there in disbelief? Or would you have knelt down, wanting to worship and believe yet entertaining the questions that simply won’t go away? How can this be? Why did Matthew record this scene? What’s the story behind the story? Here’s what I suspect—within Matthew’s church there were many who still entertained doubts—just like Mary Magdalene and Simon Peter and the other women and the Beloved Disciple and Cleopas and Thomas. The Resurrection Narratives are a roll call of the early church leaders, who, when first confronted with the Risen Jesus, simply could not believe it. These were followers of Jesus whose eyes would not let them see what they were seeing. Matthew addresses the doubter in every believer’s heart—the church that combines worship and doubt, the church that gathers every Lord’s day to confess, “I believe, help thou my unbelief.” The church worships and doubts—all at the same time! We are not an “either/or” church—we are a “both/and” church. Let us go back to that mountain in Galilee. After Jesus leaves them, what did those disciples do? Did those who worshipped Jesus throw the doubters off the mountain? Did they kick them off the cliff? Did doubters scorn the worshippers? I think not. I think they looked at each other and said, “We’re in this together.” I think that’s what the other disciples said to Thomas who insisted upon seeing the Risen Christ for himself. They did not throw Thomas under the bus. The church gathers on this Easter morning, and we have among us worshippers and doubters—as it was in the beginning, is now and shall be for a long time. Falling on our knees “lost in wonder, rapt in praise,” standing there in disbelief and doubt—“we’re in this together.” Sometimes the worshippers need to worship for those who cannot bring themselves to believe. And sometimes the doubters need to raise those questions that simply won’t go away. We need each other. The church welcomes everyone to experience this Risen Jesus—who is often so mysterious and hard to recognize. Perhaps the church gathered here and now will never be so different form that earliest congregation atop that mountain in Galilee. Worshipping, doubting, praising, questioning, always wondering, standing amazed. Sometimes within the heart of one person one day believing, another day doubting, oscillating, changing, struggling.
Today we reaffirm again—the church welcomes all: doubters, worshippers, wannabes, the hopeful, and the unsure. Together—on the mountaintop. Together—in the sanctuary. “When they saw him, they worshipped but some doubted.” Friends in Christ, on this Easter morning, we affirm again, “We are in this together.”
Back To the Top March 21, 2008 Good Friday IS JUDAS ONE OF US?
Judas Iscariot is mentioned about twenty times in the Gospels. Every time he’s mentioned, it’s not flattering. The most hostile mention comes at the end when Judas betrays Jesus into the hands of his Jewish opponents. Why? The Gospels seem to give two reasons: First, greed—love of money is the root of all evil. Judas is portrayed as the treasurer for the disciples who dipped into the till—he stole funds. He also negotiates the betrayal for thirty pieces of silver—not a huge sum by any means. So perhaps it was greed. Secondly, the Devil made him do it. Luke 22:3 says, “Satan entered into Judas, and he left to betray Jesus.” John 6:70 is even more severe: Judas “is” a devil or he became demonic. Nevertheless, Jesus pronounces a “woe” on the one by whom he is betrayed. He gets no free pass. There are no excuses for Judas. He is culpable of a great crime. Judas betrays an innocence man with a kiss. He betrays the one he has seen do great miracles and teach wonderful parables. His action is simply inexcusable—sinful, wrong. The New Testament is clear about this. Judas betrayed an innocent man—the One who loved him. Now there is a totally different view of Judas found in the Gospel of Judas. There was a National Geographic cover from last year of an ancient text found in the late ‘70s. Finally in 2006 there was the first translation into English. The Gospel of Thomas goes back to the late Second Century. This Gnostic text gives a very different view of God, Jesus, the world, the disciples and Judas. It suggests that the Old Testament God is bad. There is a spiritual God above the Old Testament God who has nothing to do with the world. It holds that the world is a giant mistake. Some humans have divine sparks trapped in material bodies. Jesus was sent to liberate these divine sparks in some folks—the genuine gnostics. Jesus was not a real human—he just appeared to be. In this text, Judas alone understands Jesus. The other disciples are fools for they worship the Old Testament God. Eleven disciples will reject Judas but Judas will be exalted. Judas’ betrayal helps Jesus return to the spiritual realm. Jesus asks him to do it. There is no guilt at all. Judas will soon join Jesus—he will be a hero. Here Judas is not a devil but virtually an angel. The Gospel of John makes Judas a devil. The Gospel of Judas makes him a saint. But the Gospel of Mark and Acts show he is one of us. Judas felt remorse. He committed suicide out of a sense of shame. I think Judas is one of us, like Benedict Arnold or Tokyo Rose—one of us. Something we are all capable of doing, betrayal and bad faith. Growing up in East Texas, I was surrounded by dozens of people like George W. Bush and Bill Clinton. They are my age, my generation, my social group—smart, ambitious, they did their drugs and alcohol. They got out of serving in Vietnam, well-connected guys who figured out how to play the system. Both got into politics and made it big—into the White House in fact. Both made the worst mistakes of their Presidencies when both did what they did because they could— out of pride and hubris. The hubris of a sexual affair plunged the country into a constitutional crisis and impeachment hearings. Hubris and impatience plunged the country into a war we’re still in. George W. Bush and Bill Clinton are not angels or devils—they are one of us—capable of doing very bad things. I feel especially a sense of connection because they’re of my generation. Two southern good ol’ boys just like me. Just like Judas is one of us—he is one of us.
On this Good Friday, we bow before God in repentance, we seek God’s merciful forgiveness. And so on this is night of sorrow, we ask for God’s mercy. For Judas is one of us.
Back To the Top March 20, 2008 Maundy Thur. THE WASHING OF FEET
In John’s Gospel, we have a meal—not specifically a Passover meal, no Last Supper, no words of institution. It’s more like a last conversation. It’s certainly a last symbolic gesture. The gesture is stunning—Jesus got up from the table, took off his cloak, tied a towel around himself, and poured water into a basin, washed the disciples’ feet, and wiped them dry on the towel. Jesus does what slaves or servants normally did. Jesus did for his disciples what had been done for him. In John 12 Mary the sister of Lazarus anointed Jesus’ feet with oil. Once Jesus had come into a Pharisee’s house and no one washed his feet except a woman who was a sinner. Peter cannot understand all this. He refuses to have his feet washed. Jesus insists that washing Peter’s feet is essential, “unless I wash your feet, you have no share with me.” So now Peter wants to be bathed by Jesus—feet, hands, and head—all over. But Jesus insists Peter has been bathed—no doubt a reference to Peter’s baptism. And Jesus assures Peter that he is part of Jesus—a member of his inner circle. After washing Peter’s feet, he asks the disciples, “Do you know what I have done to you?” Jesus answers his own question: “I am your Lord and teacher and I have washed your feet, so you ought to wash one another’s feet.” Jesus insists he set an example for his followers. They are not above their teacher. They are called to do what Jesus did. Instead of arguing who is preeminent, they are to wash each other’s feet. And Jesus promises them, “If you do these things, you will be blessed.” For many theologians, this sounds very much like a sacrament, for sure a command—a mandate—as in Maundy Thursday. Every Maundy Thursday we remember that Jesus commanded his disciples to remember him in the breaking of bread, the pouring of the cup, and the washing of feet. All these symbolic acts—breaking, pouring, washing—promise us a blessing—a sharing in the offered life of Jesus. The blessing for us this night comes in humbling ourselves before others, the act of a servant, self-abasement—following in the footsteps of Jesus, caring for others in this tender manner. There is something quite specific, quite tangible here—bread and wine, hands, water, feet, authentic sharing and caring. Jean Soderberg shared with me a story her friends Duane and Connie Bell sent her.
While we were there, two large busloads of migrants were released near the tent. I, along, with others, soaked migrants’ feet in tubs of water. Then we treated their blisters with antibiotics and bandaged their feet. Some had severely blistered and raw feet, making it difficult to walk. There was a group of twelve women, some with badly blistered feet, some very sunburned, and some with bad bug bites. One man came whose feet were so blistered that he needed to go to the hospital to have them treated. We called the ambulance; they arrived and refused to take him. He was very sick. We all pitched in for a bus ticket for him to return home. His feet were so bad, he couldn’t walk. We had to leave shortly after that so we don’t know the outcome.
We join in the symbolic gesture to remember Jesus, to celebrate Jesus’ call to servanthood/self-giving, to join us in fellowship with those for whom Jesus died. We do this in remembrance of Jesus. Thanks be to God.
Back To the Top March 9, 2008
AFTER THE TOMB AND THE PARADE
Jesus said to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” That quite simply is the point of John 11. It is the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Dead, in fact, for four days. Despite those long odds, Jesus brings his friend Lazarus back to life. Jesus calls him forth from the tomb and come forth he does. This is a stunning moment in the ministry of Jesus-certainly the highlight of John’s Gospel up to this point. So Lazarus joins a very short list of people Jesus raised from the dead: the daughter of Jairus and the son of the widow of Nain. In the Gospel of John, the raising of Lazarus is the seventh and final sign. It reveals what will happen shortly to Jesus and what Jesus has promised for the end of time. Resurrection and life, life eternal. Jesus comes to Bethany and faces the charge three times that if only he had arrived earlier, Lazarus would not have died. First, Martha, then Mary, then the townspeople all join in wondering why Jesus did not come immediately when he got word that Lazarus was sick. But Jesus told his disciples that his delay would bring glory to God. And indeed it did. When Lazarus comes forth from the tomb in his burial clothes, the text says, “Many of the Jews therefore who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.” That is the point. The people believe that Jesus is indeed the resurrection and the life. This morning I would like us to imagine what happened to Lazarus fresh from the grave. There is little time to celebrate the new life given to Lazarus, the friend of Jesus. Why? Because the religious leaders join in a final conspiracy to kill Jesus as well as Lazarus. The text says that they decided to put Lazarus to death because “it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus”(12:11). To celebrate this new life, Lazarus and his two sisters Mary and Martha host a dinner for Jesus. In deep gratitude Mary pours costly perfume over Jesus’ feet and the smell of the ointment fills the house. Even though Judas doesn’t get it, Jesus understands that Mary was anointing him for his own burial just days ahead. Then on Palm Sunday Jesus rides from Bethany into Jerusalem. Many people came out to see not only Jesus but also Lazarus. We do know what became of the conspiracy to kill Jesus. But we do not know whatever became of the conspiracy to kill Lazarus. The text never tells us. And that is where the story of Lazarus ends. His celebrity is short lived. A mere fifteen minutes of fame, if you will. After coming forth from the tomb and sitting at table with Jesus and walking in the Palm Sunday parade, Lazarus disappears. He simply vanishes from the pages of history. My question is this: what happened to Lazarus? What did he do, this man lately wrapped snugly in the grave, this walking and talking testimony to the “resurrection and the life”? That’s what Eugene O’Neill tries to imagine in his play “Lazarus Laughed.” Written in 1925 and first staged in 1928, this philosophical fantasy has seldom been staged, because it is so grandiose. It calls for more than 100 characters, most of whom wear masks. The play begins in Bethany just after Lazarus is raised from the dead and it takes us to Athens and then to Rome. It dramatizes what happened to Lazarus after they unbound him and set him free. What Lazarus does is laugh time and again. His home is now called the House of Laughter. He gladly proclaims, “There is no death, there is no fear, there is only the laughter of God”. O’Neill depicts Lazarus as something of a bungling sheepherder, a ne’er do well whose sisters Mary and Martha try to help. In the play Lazarus is married to Miriam but all their children have died. When he himself dies, his family comes to mourn him, but they soon discover him alive and well. In fact, throughout the course of the play Lazarus grows ever younger and stronger, filled with life and light and laughter. And his laughter is contagious, even mesmerizing. The people of Bethany want to be around him, because his affirmation and his laughter say Yes to life. Formed into a chorus, his neighbors sing, “Lazarus laughs. Our hearts grow happy. Fear is no more. Death is dead. There is only laughter. The laughter in the heart of God.” ,p> But his laughter also creates discord. Family and friends disagree about Jesus, the one who brought him back to life. When word of Jesus’ execution comes to Bethany a near riot erupts and several of his family members come to grief. The Romans rush in to arrest Lazarus as a follower of Jesus. For the rest of the play Lazarus is in Roman custody. Caligula, a Roman general and future emperor, takes Lazarus first to Athens. This man brought back from the grave is hailed by many in Athens as a god, like Dionysius. When the Athenians hear his laughter, they too are captivated. They too come to believe that “death is dead and fear is no more.” Why? Because of the life-giving laughter of Lazarus. Caligula is intrigued but skeptical. And Caligula is under orders to bring Lazarus to Tiberius who is the emperor of Rome. Tiberius Caesar thinks that Lazarus has access to a fountain of youth. The old emperor covets the secret to life eternal. So to Rome he must go. In Rome Lazarus appears before the Senate. The cynical old senators hear the laughter of Lazarus and they too are intrigued. Filled with cynicism and hatred they are taken aback by someone so full of life and laughter. Finally Lazarus appears before Tiberius Caesar. The laughter of Lazarus intrigues and yet unsettles the old emperor. His own distrust and fear is so very obvious. As emperor he feels he can control his subjects only by the fear of punishment and death. He cannot comprehend the laughter at the heart of Lazarus, his lack of fear, his deep joy. And so Tiberius and Caligula decide to do away with Lazarus. His laughter must end. So he is burned at the stake. The last words of Lazarus are: “Fear not. There is no death.” A final affirmation amidst the flames. So Lazarus dies yet again. This time without fear, without anxiety. The laughter cannot be suppressed, even in death. Eugene O’Neill’s “Lazarus Laughed” is a fanciful retelling of the life of one brought back from the grave. It depicts the stark difference between those addicted to fear and death with those in love with life. Those whose love of life overflows into affirmation and joyous laughter. Lazarus laughs and affirms the laughter at the heart of God. Now there is one other story that gives us another tradition about Lazarus. In the Gospel of Luke the sixteenth chapter Jesus tells a parable. It is the only parable where a character is named. His name? Lazarus. In this parable Lazarus is a poor man, covered in sores. He is so pitiable that even the dogs come and lick his sores. He is so poor he longs to satisfy his hunger with the crumbs that fall from a rich man’s table. Imagine Lazarus wrapped in grave clothes cold in the ground. As Jesus tells the story, both the rich man and Lazarus die. Lazarus ends up in the arms of Abraham and the rich man ends up in torment. And the rich man cries out to Abraham to send someone back from the dead to warn his brothers. Then Abraham says something astonishing, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone rises from the dead.” I wonder if the tradition about Lazarus finally became a parable. Or if Lazarus was first a parable that became a story. Whichever came first, the point is this: even when Lazarus comes back from the dead, some people refuse to believe. Even when Jesus comes back from the dead, some people refuse to believe. There is something quite mysterious about this whole business of belief-who believes, why they believe, under what circumstances they come to believe. The laughter that filled the heart of Lazarus, according to Eugene O’Neill, captivated some and exasperated others. Who can figure? Why does it elicit the laughter of life for some and the laughter of scorn for others? Perhaps we can only say that we all live in the land of Lazarus. The tombs that enclose us, the burial cloths that bind us—these seldom depart completely from our lives. We are called to come forth and yet inexplicably the burial cloth clings to us. We are left with an enigma. It is still a mystery this business of belief. How is it with your soul these days? Can you hear the astonishing affirmation of Lazarus? “There is no death. There is only life. Fear is no more. There is only laughter. Laughter at the heart of God.” When Jesus revealed to Martha that he is the “resurrection and the life”, he asked her, “Do you believe this?” Martha replied with the affirmation that changed her life and changes ours as well, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”
Do you believe in your heart of hearts that he is the “resurrection and the life?” Do you believe that He is the One who brings us laughter, that holy laughter at the heart of God? It is a question we cannot avoid, we who live in the land of Lazarus. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Back To the Top February 17, 2008
CAN OLD DOGS LEARN NEW TRICKS?
This past week I called my old friend Cris Burton. I’ve known Cris since he was in the very first confirmation class I ever taught way back in 1975. Now he is a dog trainer in Austin and quite a good one. So I asked him this simple question, “Cris, can you teach old dogs new tricks?” His one word answer? “Yes.” He said he has done it many times. Takes a little more effort perhaps but still definitely doable. So I asked Cris about some articles on this issue and he referred me to one by Dr. Nicholas Dodman, the guru of dog training. Dr. Dodman says this: “Old dogs may not learn as quickly as they did when they were young, but with time and patience, most older dogs can be taught to do anything that a young do can.” This well-known dog trainer says that sometimes you may have to speak louder to older dogs if they are slightly deaf. But one thing for sure according to Dr. Dodman: “Punishment based techniques are unacceptable, especially for older dogs.” There are even scientific studies that prove this. Researchers studied older beagles that were fed a diet of fruits, vegetables and vitamins, exercised regularly, and given the opportunity to play with other dogs. And voila! These older beagles learned where a treat was hidden even better than the younger beagles. And of course this week with one of their own winning best in show at Westminster beagles everywhere are bursting with pride! So if you are wondering, old dogs can indeed learn new tricks. Maybe you have to be a bit more patient. Maybe you have to talk a little bit louder. And maybe you have to be very intentional about your diet and your exercise routine and your social interactions. But yes, old dogs can and do learn new tricks! This is very good news for guys who just turned 60! Now the traditional picture of Nicodemus is that he is an old guy. We surmise that since he was a leader of the Pharisees and so he may have had some years on him. But we also figure that how he answered Jesus suggested that he was older. Jesus said to Nicodemus, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the Kingdom of God without being born from above.” And Nicodemus answers incredulously, “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” We suppose he was talking about himself-someone who had indeed grown older. We also surmise that he was on in years by the respectful way he first approached Jesus. We would always hope with some maturity that people gain a greater respect for others. Nicodemus says to Jesus, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from God.” In other words, Nicodemus recognizes something quite special about this young rabbi from Nazareth. He senses that Jesus’ miraculous healings indicate that God is with him. Nicodemus comes across as respectful, insightful, and mature. But something is missing. Jesus insists that Nicodemus as a teacher of Israel needs to understand the mysterious power of the Spirit of God. Jesus gives him a primer on the workings of the Spirit to create new life. Jesus reminds this teacher of Israel that only those born of water and the Spirit can enter the kingdom of God. He recalls for Nicodemus that the Spirit like the wind blows where it will recreating life wherever and however the Spirit chooses. Perhaps Jesus is drawing upon the words of the prophet Ezekiel who envisioned the Spirit moving across an entire valley of dry bones to bring new life. Surely a teacher of Israel would remember the story of Ezekiel’s dry bones! Then Jesus’ instruction turns to something even more mysterious-the Son of Man. The Son of Man who has descended from heaven and will ascend to heaven. And this Son of Man will ascend by being lifted up just as Moses lifted up a serpent in the wilderness. Now we are into Biblical history for sure-the story of Moses lifting up a bronze serpent to bring healing for those bitten by poisonous snakes. You can find that story in Numbers 21. And Jesus recalls the story of that mysterious Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven who was given the everlasting kingdom. You can read about that mysterious Son of Man coming in power in Daniel 7. In other words, Jesus reminds this teacher of Israel of his own sacred stories. And what is Jesus saying to Nicodemus? The Spirit of God is blowing afresh to bring new life. And you must be born from above to understand what is going on before your very eyes. These signs I am doing indicate that the Spirit is moving anew among the people. And I am, in fact, the Son of Man who has been given an everlasting kingdom. And I will reign from atop the cross, where I will be lifted up. And those who look to me atop my throne of suffering will be healed. And so Jesus’ final words to Nicodemus sum up what he has only hinted at previously: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life.” At this point the teacher of Israel disappears. He had come to Jesus by night and now he simply disappears into the darkness. Did Nicodemus get it? Did Nicodemus understand? When we come to the end of chapter 3 we assume that Nicodemus is simply perplexed, like so many others. But then Nicodemus appears again in John 19. Jesus has been crucified. Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for Jesus’ dead body. And who assists him? The text says: “Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds.” So Joseph and Nicodemus take the lifeless body of Jesus and anoint it with an enormous amount of spices, enough for a king’s dead body. And together they bury Jesus in a new tomb in a nearby garden. So Nicodemus comes out of the dark and embraces Jesus in death. And then he disappears again from the pages of history. We know nothing else about this teacher of Israel. And we can only speculate what all this means. What Jesus meant to Nicodemus we can only guess. Here is my guess. This old dog did learn new tricks. He learned something about Jesus. Maybe the Spirit did blow upon him and give him insight into this rabbi who did marvelous signs, who spoke words full of grace and truth. And just maybe when this Son of Man was lifted up on the cross, Nicodemus was healed. That’s what I want to believe anyway. The Spirit moves mysteriously, even upon those who seem set in their ways. Even teachers who think they know the whole story! Even folks who have been around the block any number of times! Even the most experienced among us have more to learn, more to experience, more to see! I am reminded of that line in a Rainer Maria Rilke poem, “You must change your life.” You must change your life even if it seems like such a late date for transformations. Change your life. Transform it into something lovely and beautiful. Even if it has grown stale and all too predictable. That is what Rilke is saying. And I think that is what Jesus was saying to that old dog Nicodemus. The Spirit can still blow where it will. And you can come out of the shadows, out of the darkness, into the light that surely surprises. I saw that happen with my own eyes. It happened to one of my old teachers in seminary. His name is Dr. Prescott Williams, now retired as a professor of Old Testament at Austin. Prescott had learned under some of the giants of Old Testament studies-G. Ernest Wright and William F. Albright. He had dug in many archaeological sites of the Middle East and had published widely. In fact, Prescott had written one of my favorite articles in Old Testament studies. It was entitled, “Yahweh-the Future Tense of God.” He argued that when God appeared to Moses and revealed the divine name we should translate it, “I will be who I will be.” Instead of the usual translation, “I am who I am.” The verb in Hebrew can be translated with the present or the future. And Prescott was sure it should be future tense. Why? Because God was saying to Moses, “I will show you who I am in due time. Stay tuned. I will be who I will show you I am.” I always thought that was a great insight-the future tense of God. Well, I wish I could report that Prescott’s classroom performance was just as good as his writings. Alas, it was not. I had Prescott in my M.Div. studies. At this point Prescott had been talked into becoming the president of our seminary. And so he did not have the time to devote to teaching as he had previously. So let me be charitable. His teaching left something to be desired. OK, it was terrible. Really bad. The very definition of boring. I was never so glad as when that class came to a merciful close. So now fast forward to my last year in seminary. It became clear to everyone that Prescott was not cut out to be a seminary president. So his last day on the job was my graduation day in May of 1975. Prescott asked for and received a one-year Sabbatical. And guess what this teacher of Hebrew decided to do? He announced he was going to spend nine months at Columbia University in New York City. And what did he plan to do at Columbia? He enrolled in the Teacher’s College. This veteran professor realized that he had lost his touch as a teacher. And those of us who had taken him could certainly attest to that. And he decided at age 60-my age now-to do something about it. We were all astonished! I remember distinctly saying to some of my fellow graduates, “I wonder if this old dog can learn some new tricks.” Well, guess what? Those nine months at Columbia in the Teacher’s College were transformative for Prescott. He came back a changed man. And so when I returned for my D.Min. at Austin several years later, I ended up in Prescott’s course on the prophet Jeremiah. I had heard that he was a changed person and an altogether better teacher. For two weeks during January of 1982 I sat under Prescott Williams as he helped us learn about the prophet Jeremiah. I am not exaggerating when I tell you it was the best course I had during my doctoral studies. No kidding! It was simply magical! This teacher of Israel had indeed learned new tricks-a new attitude toward students, a new understanding of various teaching techniques, a new spirit with which he approached his calling.
I saw with my own eyes that an old dog can indeed learn new tricks. But I think it was much more than just pedagogical improvement as important as that was. His was a completely new spirit, transformed before my very eyes. Nicodemus came forth from the shadows. It can happen. It really does. I am sure of it. I saw it for myself. The Spirit blows where it will. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Back To the Top February 10, 2008 WAS GLAUCON RIGHT?
Plato wrote The Republic, arguably the greatest philosophical text ever. In this text Plato depicts his very own brother Glaucon posing a difficult question for Socrates. Basically Glaucon asked, “If someone had a chance to get away with anything Scot free, wouldn’t everybody do whatever they pleased?” Glaucon even suggested that you would be stupid not to if there were absolutely no consequences for your actions. For Glaucon, people’s actions are always selfish and the only thing that constrains them is the fear of punishment. Then Glaucon gave an example of his theory. He told Socrates the ancient story of a man named Gyges. Gyges was a shepherd who tended the flocks of the king of Lydia. One day during a great storm there was an earthquake that opened up a huge chasm in the ground. Gyges climbed down into the chasm and found to his astonishment a large bronze horse. Inside this large bronze horse Gyges discovered a human corpse. On the dead man’s finger was a gold ring. Taking the gold ring Gyges made his way out of the bronze horse and up out of the chasm. He now had a new ring for his finger. Some time later Gyges was attending the monthly meeting of the shepherds and he mindlessly twisted the gold ring on his finger. To his amazement he became invisible to his companions. When he twisted the ring again, he suddenly appeared visible to his friends. Immediately he realized he was in the possession of a very powerful ring indeed. The next day he went with the other shepherds to report to the king. There in the castle he managed to use the ring to seduce the queen and then murder the king. Eventually Gyges became the king and ruled the Lydians. Glaucon then imagines what would happen if there were two such rings and one came into the hands of a good and righteous person. Glaucon suggests that the even the good and righteous person would be very hard pressed indeed not to duplicate the actions of Gyges. In fact, Glaucon is sure that even the best person would abuse the ring’s power just as Gyges did. And so Glaucon concludes, “People act just justly only because they fear the consequences of acting unjustly. People will do almost anything if they feel they can get away with it.” Now this is a pretty somber picture of human nature, isn’t it? And in fact Plato has Socrates answer Glaucon’s charge. Plato’s answer in effect is that if all people acted like Gyges and abused the power of the ring, they would never be happy. Only the just person can ever be happy, according to Plato and his teacher Socrates. I wonder if Glaucon bought that answer. As we begin Lent, we have to ask ourselves this question, “Was Glaucon right?” If you had a gold ring that made you invisible and brought you great power and pleasure, what would you do? Glaucon thinks he knows. Do you? Matthew pictures Jesus facing the greatest temptation of his life. He is in effect offered a gold ring that would bring him immense pleasure, power and popularity. Three times he is tempted. “Command these stones to become loaves of bread. Throw yourself down off the pinnacle of the temple. Fall down and worship me so that all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor will be yours.” Just twist the ring and you will be glorious beyond your wildest imagination. Glaucon is certain that Jesus would take such an offer. So how would you do with those options? The temptations facing Jesus are no doubt unique to Jesus, who had to walk that lonesome valley all alone. The temptations facing you are unique to you. Sometimes to abuse your freedom and your power. Sometimes to shrink from using your freedom and your power. The temptation to hubris and arrogance is just as real as the temptation to fear and despair. It’s all about what you would do when faced with a choice that you think has absolutely no consequences. At least that is the way Glaucon tells the story of Gyges. And that is the way the Tempter posed the challenge to Jesus in the wilderness. What would you do if you had a golden ring that gave you unlimited access and power and fame-without any apparent downside? That is the question that J.R. Tolkien takes up in his trilogy The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien was an Oxford don, a professor of medieval literature, and a devout Roman Catholic. He published The Lord of the Rings in 1944, during the dark days of World War II. In recent years the Trilogy has been made into three very successful movies. No doubt many of you have seen it. The Lord of the Rings is the story of Middle Earth, an imaginary land threatened by the cruel Sauron and his dreadful minions. Frodo and his close friend Sam are lovable Hobbits who live in the Shire, a peaceful land given to friendship and fun. Then one day Frodo and Sam are given an enormous and dangerous task. The wizard Gandalf commissions Frodo, who by the way in the book is 50 years old, to undertake a quest along with his closest friend Sam. They are to take the Ruling Ring to the Mount Doom and throw it into its volcanic fire to be destroyed. The ring must not fall back into the hands of Sauron who would rule the world with its deadly power. This Ruling Ring must be destroyed because it offers three deadly powers-invisibility, longevity, and power over the will of others. Those powers become in fact three temptations for anyone who has the ring. Become invisible whenever you wished, live as long as you wanted, and possess as much power as you ever desired. Tolkien was quite aware of Glaucon’s story of Gyges and the golden ring, which made that shepherd invisible and thus dangerous. Tolkien admitted that his Trilogy in some sense was his answer to Glaucon’s provocative question, “If you had Gyges’ ring, wouldn’t you do the same?” In most cases, Tolkien shows that the Ruling Ring deeply harmed whoever possessed it. In truth, the Ruling Ring really seemed to possess whoever had it. That is why the Quest that Frodo and Sam embark upon has no guarantee of success. Their journey from the shire to the top of Mount Doom is filled with struggles from without. Sauron and his terrible orks try repeatedly to recapture the Ruling Ring. And their journey is filled with struggles within. The Ruling Rule poses a tremendous temptation to both Frodo and Sam. Theirs is a quest to destroy the ring yet the ring almost overwhelms them. Bilbo, Frodo’s uncle who first had the ring and found it deeply difficult to handle, said to his nephew, “It’s a dangerous business going out of your door. You step into the road and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.” The Quest to destroy the Ruling Ring is finally the Quest of Frodo and Sam not to become like Gyges-that is, unjust and evil. Tolkien shows us that the Ruling Ring, initially fashioned by Sauron for the purposes of total domination of the world, totally corrupts many who possess it. Smeagol, later called Gollum, murders his friend for the ring. And Gollum becomes consumed by the ring. The self-destructive power of evil is most evident in Gollum, a truly hideous creature indeed. And even the wisest and best character in the Trilogy, the wizard Gandalf, admits that “with that ring I would have power too great and terrible.” And so Gandalf says quite directly, “Do not tempt me. I dare not take it, even to keep it safe.” Gandalf here sounds much like Jesus in the wilderness rejecting the offer before him. Frodo in fact several times uses the ring’s power to become invisible to escape harm. But the ring also wearies Frodo and brings him to the very brink of despair and exhaustion. The Ruling Ring poses an especially seductive temptation for Frodo. Sam seems less attracted to the ring, but still it poses a real danger even for him. You recall that when Frodo and Sam get to the top of Mount Doom, Frodo for a brief moment is completely overcome by the lure of the ring. He cries out, “I do not choose to do now what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The ring is mine!” Tolkien notes that this was in a “loud and stentorian voice that is not at all his own.” In other words, for a moment at the top of the Mount Doom Frodo loses his self and speaks in an entirely different voice. Just then at the mouth of the volcano crater Gollum, that terribly disfigured being, tries to wrestle the Ring away that Frodo. In the ensuing struggle Gollum and the Ruling Ring fall into the volcanic fires. The Ruling Ring is finally destroyed but not without almost destroying Frodo in the process. Tolkien refuses to give us a super-heroic Frodo. Rather he gives us a picture of ourselves, struggling frantically with temptation, battling for our souls, fighting off the lust for power that lures us all. I wonder if Jesus struggled more than we know in the wilderness. Perhaps there is more to the story than the Gospels give us. Ah, that ruling ring is seductive indeed. We well know that many others have struggled and lost with temptation. Gollum and Gyges come to mind. And by the skin of his teeth, Frodo barely escaped the seduction of the ring. There at the top of the Mount Doom Frodo faced the most difficult challenge of his life. Fortunately he survived. And so did Jesus. After a real struggle with temptation, Jesus refused to wear that golden ring. He walked away from it. He refused its seduction. He rejected the demonic offer. And in so doing, he gives us hope. Hope that by the grace of God we will not succumb. Matthew’s text ends by saying, “The devil left him and suddenly angles came and waited on him.” In the company of God’s ministering angels Jesus recovers from this terrible ordeal. And so we will. In the company of God’s people and God’s ministering spirits, we will be comforted. Thanks be to God. Amen. Back To the Top February 3, 2008 TRANSFORMATIVE MOMENTS
Several years ago my friend Bob Morley alerted me to the importance of moments. In 1999 he published a book entitled simply Moments. In that book Bob writes, “In God’s kingdom, it’s all about moments. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, ‘Listen, I will tell you a mystery. We will not all die, but we will be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.’ God’s most profound and best work takes only the twinkling of an eye, a transformative moment.” This got me to reflecting on how moments can be transformative, how in the twinkling of an eye everything can change. Take that moment that introduced all our moments-the big bang. God said, “Let there be light”, and a blinding light, a releasing of unimaginable energy, and the universe explodes onto the stage-all in a flash. And take that moment when the first humans decided that they wanted to be like God. In his book Creation and Fall Dietrich Bonhoeffer describes the fall. That initial act of disobedience happened in a mili-second, that first “No” to God. The fall was sudden and brief and oh so momentous. Hardly any thought was given to that primary rebellion of the human spirit. It transpired so quickly, much like our own acts of rebellion. And then we come to our text from Matthew’s Gospel. A brief moment in time. An episode lasting probably not more than ten minutes. It happened after a long climb up to the mountaintop. Jesus takes with him Peter, James, and John-the inner circle, the three who saw Jesus in some of his most intimate moments. Looking out over the scenery, suddenly something quite unexpected occurs. Jesus’ face begins to shine like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. Jesus is utterly transfigured into this bright shining being, luminescent and stunning. Then, as if that were not enough, suddenly there appear beside this transfigured Jesus the figures of Moses and Elijah. Now we are truly into another world, a very thin place, where heaven and earth join company. And Moses and Elijah begin to speak with Jesus. Matthew does not tell us what they discuss. In Luke’s account they talk with Jesus about his upcoming “exodus”, as the Greek has it. His exodus, his departure soon ahead in Jerusalem. In other words, his suffering and death. Peter makes a seemingly fine suggestion. He wanted to commemorate this bright shining moment with three booths-one for Elijah, one for Moses, and one for Jesus. Like the famous faces adorning Mt. Rushmore, these booths would be an everlasting testament to the importance of these three figures. Elijah the prophet, Moses the lawgiver, Jesus the Son of God. Seemed like a good idea, anyway. Suddenly a bright cloud, like the cloud that enveloped Mt. Sinai, overshadows Jesus and his companions from of old. Then a voice shakes the mountain, like the voice that shook Mt. Sinai. The veritable voice of God thunders, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” Suddenly Elijah and Moses are nowhere to be found. There stands only Jesus, the beloved Son, shining like the sun, wrapped in a bright cloud. A moment like nothing they had ever experienced. Immediately they realize that Jesus is the one who has the words of everlasting life. No other voice is to be listened to-except his alone. The disciples know they are in the very presence of God. And so they fall on their faces filled with awe. And well they should. They have seen Jesus their master transfigured before them. They have witnessed revered figures of Israel’s past. They have watched a bright, luminous cloud overshadow Jesus. And they have heard the very voice of God. Who wouldn’t fall on their face in utter awe? This truly is a mountaintop experience the likes of which they could hardly imagine. Only once more in their lives would they experience anything like it. Matthew has these same disciples gather with Jesus perhaps on this same mountain to witness his final words before his ascension. They are told to go into all the world. This is a mountain of revelation, of transfiguration. It happened in a flash and it forever changed them. Think of the moments that have changed you, the ever so brief encounters that have made all the difference for you. Think of the time you first said publicly, “Yes, Jesus is my Lord and Savior.” Perhaps you said that in the context of worship, where you expressed your faith for all to hear. Think of a time when you said, “I love you.” Suddenly the relationship was changed and you were changed. Think of the time when you said to your spouse before God and all those witnesses, “I do.” And suddenly you were transformed from a single person to a married person-in the twinkling of an eye. And think of the time you were at the bedside of someone you loved. One moment your loved one is alive and then the next moment they are with the Lord. Moments change us, sometimes fundamentally and forever. Allow me to share a story with you-a story about one of my friends in college named Ben. Ben was brilliant if not eccentric. Over the years I have found that people who march to a different drummer are for some mysterious reasons drawn to me. Maybe they sense that I rather enjoy their company, actually. Well, Ben graduated and eventually become a successful medical doctor in the South. Ben also became a devout member of the Eastern Orthodox Church as well as a firm believer that income tax was unconstitutional. Now when Ben got an idea, let’s just say he fixated upon it. So he wrote me long letters defending his decision not to pay his taxes. Well, I think you know where this story is headed. Ben has written me his last four letters from his new place of residence-the Federal prison in Atlanta. I also seem to be drawn to lots of people who end up in prison! Ben’s letters from prison, however, have not been about the problem with the tax code. His letters have been about the difficulties in his marriage. He has been married to Mary Ellen for 30 years. But there was little emotional connection between them, very little intimacy. Here is how Ben described it, “The pain was so great, the deadness so absolute, and the future so horrific to contemplate that I informed my wife that I wanted a divorce.” Right before Thanksgiving Ben wrote a letter informing Mary Ellen of his feelings. Upon receiving this painful letter, Mary Ellen immediately drove to Atlanta to visit Ben in prison. In a very poignant conversation, Mary Ellen revealed to Ben something she had kept secret all her life. In her teenage years she had been raped. For all those years she had harbored deep feelings of sexual shame. And that had led to thirty years of emotional distance in their marriage. Now the secret was brought to light. Then and there in a visiting room in a Federal prison Ben and Mary Ellen came to realize that they really did love each other after all despite all the hurts. The revealing of that painful secret was a transformative moment for them both. They committed themselves to healing, healing of all the deep wounds in their individual lives and in their marriage. Mary Ellen was also able to tell Ben how betrayed she felt by his decision to stop paying taxes and thus exposing them to prosecution and prison. As Ben said in his letter, it was probably the most painful and yet the most liberating conversation of his entire life. They held each other and vowed to find a way through all their pain. They promised to love each other in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and health. Two lonely people who need to be healed and loved just held each other in that hope that springs eternal. In his last letter dated January 23 Ben wrote that his wife is moving to Atlanta to be near him. He writes, “Mary Ellen is being so heroic. The baptism of divine love we experienced in her last visit has transformed our relationship. In Christ I have a deep love for my wife which I have never had before. Frank, we have been resurrected with Christ.” And then Ben quotes from the Psalmist, “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.” Friends in Christ, transformative moments happen. They really do! Thanks be to God. Back To the Top January 20, 2008
TAKING AWAY THE SIN OF THE WORLD
Twice in our passage John the Baptist declares, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” John points to Jesus who comes to be baptized. And so John proclaims this astonishing news to his own disciples: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” These are words that stir our imagination. They have been used in countless hymns and anthems to celebrate Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. And yet these words are more poetry than prose. And so these words need to be approached with imagination as well as critical acumen. So how do these words strike you? When John calls Jesus the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, where do your thoughts take you? Do you think about the sheep cared for by young David, the shepherd boy turned king? Do you think of the lost sheep the shepherd searches for? Do you think about the command of the resurrected Christ to Peter, “Feed my lambs”? Do you think about the twenty-eight times that Jesus is described as the Lamb of God in the book of Revelation? Or do you think about the paschal lamb sacrificed during the Passover festival? It is quite likely that the Gospel of John would have us identify Jesus with the paschal lambs sacrificed during the Passover festival. One clue here is that the Fourth Gospel alters somewhat the chronology of the crucifixion. Instead of the execution taking place on Friday, this Gospel has Jesus crucified on Thursday of Passover week. John 19:14 records the time when Pilate interrogated Jesus, “Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover and it was about noon.” In other words, in this Gospel Jesus is tried and executed on Thursday, the day of preparation for the Passover meal. On Thursday, the paschal lambs were sacrificed and so was Jesus. Thus the Gospel of John wants us to identify Jesus with the paschal lambs sacrificed on the day of preparation for the Passover. That, by the way, is why there is no explicit mention of the Passover meal in the Gospel of John. Jesus’ last discourse in chapters 13-17 is delivered at what the Gospel calls simply the “supper”(13:2). For the Gospel of John, it is important that Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. He is the paschal lamb, offered for our redemption and freedom. Now there are many things that separate the contemporary Christian from the first century Christian. Language and culture and religious background are but a few of these things. However, I think what most separates us from the first century world is the notion of animal sacrifice. To sacrifice an animal to a god was deeply ingrained in the religious consciousness of the ancient world. Virtually every religion of that time sacrificed animals to their god or gods. Often these animal sacrifices were to propitiate the gods, that is, to keep the gods on your side. Israel was not so different from the world religions in that regard. In fact, every Passover the community would sacrifice paschal lambs, young male lambs without blemish. It was a powerful symbol within Judaism, a symbol of freedom from slavery. Lambs were often sacrificed in the temple at Jerusalem. There were morning and evening sacrifices of lambs as well as during the major feast days like the Day of Atonement. If you were to enter the temple, you would no doubt see a priest sacrificing a lamb. For us in the Twenty-first Century, there is something quite repellent about the idea of sacrificing an animal to God. Maybe it is our concern for animal rights-even if we often eat hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken salad sandwiches! I suppose we simply don’t understand why animals should be sacrificed to grant us a relationship with the living God. There is a huge disconnect here, isn’t there? Did you think of sacrificing a young dove upon the birth of your first child? Jesus’ parents did just that in the temple in Jerusalem. So we face this huge difference in our worldviews, something the scholars call the hermeneutical gap. The ancient world simply assumed that animal sacrifices were an integral part of worship. The guilt of the worshippers was transferred onto the animal and thus offered to God. We on the other hand find this idea extraordinarily strange. And thus to call Jesus the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world poses something of a challenge for us. What, after all, do we mean by this affirmation? This past week I turned to the writings of Rene Girard, a French Catholic writer who has long taught in various universities in the United States. Girard offers some intriguing ideas about how to understand this notion of the Lamb of God. He connects the idea of the Lamb of God to the idea of the scapegoat-that is, placing blame upon an innocent victim. I offer these thoughts to you so that you may consider again what the sacrifice of Christ means to you. Perhaps Girard can help us bridge this huge gap between our world and the world of the New Testament. Girard describes all of human life as caught up in struggle. Picture two young children playing happily on their porch, a pile of toys beside them. The older child pulls a G.I. Joe from the pile and immediately his younger brother cries out, “No, that’s my toy!” There is a struggle and the younger brother pushes him out of the way, and grabs it. The older child, who was not very interested in the toy when he first picked it up, now has a passionate desire for the toy and attempts to wrest it back. Soon a fight ensues, with the toy forgotten and the two boys busy pummeling each other. As the fight intensifies, the strange child next door wanders into their yard and comes up to them, looking for someone to play with. At that point, one of the two rivals looks up and says, “Oh, here’s the weird kid!” “Yeah,” says his brother, “There’s the weird kid!” The two brothers, having forgotten the toy, now forget their fight and chase away their strange neighbor. This action restores harmony between the two brothers, though the neighbor boy is now indoors crying. Girard seems to build his whole theory of human culture upon a close analysis of the dynamics operating in this story. Most human desires are created by imitating the behavior of others. We are imitative creatures, indeed. When someone claims an object, that tells another that it is desirable—and that we must have it. Girard calls this “mimetic” (or imitative) desire. In the subsequent rivalry, the two parties will come to forget the desired object and will focus on the conflict itself. Harmony will only be restored if the conflicting parties can vent their anger on a common enemy or “scapegoat.” The conflict is resolved by blaming someone else, that is, by scapegoating. At some stage in this cycle of violence, the community spontaneously turns on one of its members as the one who is to blame for it all. Someone must take the fall, like a Thomas More or a Martin Luther King. Remember that point in innumerable Western movies where, in the midst of some scene of agitation, a finger gets pointed at someone and soon a thicket of fingers is pointing at a scapegoat and a lynch mob is instantly created? Such scapegoating violence unites all against the one. Thus the destruction of the scapegoat produces a genuinely unifying experience, the peace which reconciles warring factions. Then, over time, the hated scapegoat is amazingly transformed into a salvific figure, if not a divine being. The community then tries to perpetuate the peace-making effect of this original scapegoating by commemorating it ritually in worship. Girard saw in the passion of Christ a permanent exposé of the evil of this scapegoating mechanism. Jesus is truly the innocent lamb, the one who is not to blame but the one who takes the blame. In doing so he takes the sin of the world upon himself. By voluntarily laying down his life, Christ introduced the world to another kingdom, one “not of this world.” This Kingdom’s fundamental principle is repenting for one’s own sins rather than scapegoating or blaming another. Jesus proclaimed the love of God and neighbor over against the constant struggle of imitative desire and violence. Christ, the Lamb of God, is the ultimate “scapegoat”—precisely because he is the Son of God. Since he is innocent, he exposes all the evils of scapegoating. The death of Christ is a sacrifice that refutes the whole principle of violence and retaliation. Christ is the completely innocent one who dies in order to give life. And his way of giving life is to overthrow the evils of scapegoating and even sacrifice itself. His is the ultimate and final sacrifice. That is why, according to Girard, Paul said: “I determined to know nothing among you but Christ and him crucified.” Paul did not mean to say that there was nothing besides the death of Christ, but that our most profound knowledge comes from understanding the crucifixion of Christ. From that sacrificial death arises all our deepest understanding of how life is be lived. The Good News today is this: Christ our Paschal Lamb has been sacrificed for us, the final and ultimate sacrifice for sin. Christ is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. So there is no need ever again to scapegoat anyone for any reason. There is no need to point our fingers at anyone or blame anyone-as though that lets us off the hook. The Lamb of God takes away my sin and your sin as well. And thus you are forgiven as I am forgiven. In the fellowship of the cross, we love one another in and through the Lamb of God. And thus we have peace and reconciliation, the great gift of Christ’s love for us all. Brothers and sisters, hear this good news: in Jesus Christ we are completely forgiven. There is no need to blame anyone or even to blame yourself. Your sin has been absorbed by the One who loves you and gave himself for you. Thanks be to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Amen. To the Top Back To the Top January 13, 2008
ON NOT GROWING FAINT
It is amazing how un-democratic the Scriptures are! You would be hard pressed to find any notion of “majority rule” in the Bible. There is a much stronger Biblical case for making personnel decisions by casting lots-that is, rolling the dice. Priests and prophets and apostles were more likely to choose leaders by casting lots than by voting. By the way, while on controversial subjects, you would also be hard pressed to find support for contemporary capitalism in either the Old or New Testament. But that’s a subject for another day. Now that I have your attention, let me describe the most un-democratic character in Holy Writ. That character would be the holy, infinite, and sovereign Lord of the universe. The Lord God calls and chooses and decides-apparently without consulting us or holding a caucus or an election. Now this cannot help but come as a shock to our democratic sensibilities. Our reading from Isaiah 42 provides yet another example how this un-democratic God acts. God calls and chooses a particular servant. A servant who will be responsive to God. Why this particular decision is a mystery wrapped within a riddle that is an enigma. God alone knows why. That prerogative belongs wholly within the will of God, whose ways are often beyond us. God calls and chooses for God’s own reasons. Second Isaiah, that is Isaiah 40-55, records four songs devoted to this chosen servant. Written more than 500 years before Jesus by an unknown prophet in Babylonian Exile, this book announces how God will rebuild a nation shattered and fragmented. This book looks forward to a time when Israel will be resettled in the Promised Land to begin her life afresh. A key element in this rebirth process will be the work of this mysterious servant. Whether it is Israel as a nation or a particular person within Israel is hard to say. But this “change agent”, chosen by God, will help Israel come alive yet again after its horrible defeat by the Babylonians. Not only will Israel be reconstituted, but all the nations will also benefit from the work of this servant. Our text says that people all over the earth will hear of this servant, even “the coastlines wait for his teaching.” A later servant song will say, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob. I will give you as a light to the nations that my salvation will reach to the end of the earth”(Isa. 49:6) This servant is an figure of international importance, a light for all the nations. For such an enormous undertaking, the Servant will need God’s help. The Spirit of God is promised this servant. This servant in whom God delights is called and upheld by God’s hand. The God who gives breath and spirit to all people gives the Spirit to the servant to faithfully do God’s work. This servant’s task is quite audacious-to bring justice to all the nations. The servant comes to establish justice in all the earth. In this case, justice or mitzpah in Hebrew means to “open the eyes that are blind”, to be a “light to the nations.” In other words, to bring justice means to help all people understand how to live together, how to live before God. Justice means right relationships between people and a living relationship with God. That is the enormous task laid upon the shoulders of the servant. And this servant song relates how this will be done. Gently, without violence. Our text says that the servant “will not cry or lift up his voice…a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.” Later servant songs will acknowledge that the servant’s way will be difficult. In the third song in Isaiah 50 the servant withstands insults and rejection. In the fourth song in Isaiah 53 the servant is oppressed and afflicted, stricken for the transgressions of the people. But in all these difficulties, the servant “will not faint or be crushed.” Other translations say that the servant “will not fail” or “will not burn dimly” or “be discouraged.” All these are acceptable translations. The servant of God faces a seemingly impossible task and yet is not crushed by it. In the third song the servant declares, “The Lord God has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may sustain the weary with a word”(Isa. 50:4). Rather than growing weary, the servant inspires others to keep up the good fight. And that for me is the key to being a servant of God. That we do not get discouraged and that we encourage others. The path is hard and often difficult. The task is sometimes quite challenging, seemingly beyond what anyone can do. And yet the Spirit of God upholds us. The call of God enfolds us. The people of God surround us. The servants of God are never alone, left to their own devices. It is no accident that in Matthew 12 our servant song is quoted to describe the ministry of Jesus. After the crowds followed him and Jesus had cured many of their diseases, Isaiah 42 is referenced as a way to understand this man from Nazareth. He was the servant of God par excellence. The One who did not grow faint or discouraged. The One who encouraged and upheld others. The One who faced opposition and yet did not strike out. A figure of international importance, this servant of God brought justice to all the nations-a way to live with others, a way to live before God. On this day in which we ordain and install our new church officers, let us remind ourselves of what it means to be servants of God, servants of Christ. It means that we trust that God has chosen us, through the voice of this congregation to lead us in the quest for justice. It means that Christ’s Spirit lives within us to help us take on this seemingly impossible task. It means that we are given a spirit of gentleness and kindness for our calling. And our calling is more than for just this congregation. We are called, as was the servant, to be a “light to the nations”. Our task is international in scope, to bring Good News to the entire world. Finally, it means that we will not grow faint or discouraged. Rather we will be a source of encouragement and hope to others who are hurting. My maternal grandfather was J. Arthur Smith. He was virtually a life long member of First Presbyterian Church in Monroe, Louisiana. For fifty years-fifty years!-he was an active elder in that congregation. Back in those days being elected an elder was pretty much a life sentence. You never rotated off the Session. Kind of like being a member of the Supreme Court. And not only that, my grandfather was Sunday School Superintendent for twenty-five years! His great gift was hospitality. Every Sunday for five decades he stood at the front door of the church and greeted people by name. His was a winsome personality, someone people instinctively liked and admired. This was a man who did not grow faint. He did not grow weary of well-doing. He was a lovely Christian witness. So every time I grow weary of following Christ in the life of the church-every time I get a little short, I think of my grandfather, J. Arthur Smith of blessed memory. Fifty years standing at the front door. Fifty years of Session meetings. Twenty-five years as Sunday School Superintendent. And suddenly my road does not seem so hard at all. The servant of God “will not grow faint or be discouraged.” May it be so for all of us. And may it be so especially for our new officers. I pray that you will be a source of encouragement to us all. That is my hope for all of us as we serve Christ together. Thanks be to God. Amen. Back To the Top December 2007 Dec 2, 2007 CARPE DIEM Now I have to confess I am not quite sure how to answer that question. What exactly does “seize the day” mean? Am I to arm wrestle the day or squeeze it tightly? Surely that is not what it means. Surely it has to do with making the most of one’s day, doesn’t it? I think that’s what the Latin poet Horace meant anyway. He coined the phrase “carpe diem”. In his “Odes” Horace wrote this: “Don’t play with fortune tellers. Just deal with whatever comes your way. We don’t know whether we will see several more winters or whether this is the last one. So be smart. Even as we speak, time is running away from us. So seize the day, trusting little in the future.” Still I have to ask this question: how do I seize the day? Perhaps the day cannot be seized. Maybe seizing the day-like holding onto water-is not ours to do. Maybe receiving with gratitude each new day is our calling. This new day is a special gift for us all. Today we come to celebrate Advent, the beginning of the new liturgical year. It is a time of waiting and preparing for the coming of our Lord. It is also a time to take stock, to consider where we are going and what we are doing with our lives. It also is a time to remember that our lives have a shelf life. The hourglass has just so much sand in it. Advent points us to the end, the final curtain falling on our lives and the life of the world. So on this first Sunday in Advent, I do not ask, “Am I seizing each day?” Rather I ask all of us, “In view of the end, how am I doing with this marvelous gift of life?” Our text from Matthew’s Gospel poses many questions for us. The disciples of Jesus asked their teacher this question, “What will be the sign of your coming and of the close of the age?” In other words, when does it all end? Jesus warns his disciples that many will imagine that they know when the end comes. There will be many signs attending the end, some involving struggles between humans and some involving natural wonders. Nevertheless, Jesus says, no one knows when the end comes, no one but God alone. Not the angels, not even Jesus himself knew the exact moment of the end. And neither do the disciples of Jesus. Nor does anyone else in the world. It is the great unknown. Much like the hour of our death-the great mystery that attends our lives. The finale remains forever hidden from our eyes, until it comes, until He comes. Jesus illustrates this great unknown by pointing to the time of Noah. There was eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, in other words, normal life. No one knew that a flood was on the horizon. No one knew that life as they knew it was coming to an end. And then they were swept away. Only those in the ark survived. A sobering tale, indeed, the flood. And Jesus uses it as an object lesson. No one knows. No one can know the end. It comes suddenly, unexpectedly. Then Jesus speaks of two men out working in the field. Another day on the job. Then the end comes. One is taken, the other is not. Or like two women grinding wheat to make bread. Another day on the job. One is taken, the other is not. No one can know the end. It comes suddenly, unexpectedly. Or like a homeowner. A thief breaks into your house. You never know when. It comes suddenly, unexpectedly. It is like hearing an intruder in your house in Florida and you get up to see what is going on. The intruder fires a weapon and a life is taken. It is like going to work for a political campaign in a small town in New Hampshire. Another day on the job. Then a man walks into your campaign headquarters and announces he has a bomb strapped to his waist. No one can know the end. It comes suddenly, unexpectedly. Jesus tells us this not to increase our anxiety, but to increase our mindfulness. He says, “Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. Therefore you must also be ready; for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” Watchfulness, alertness, mindfulness. That is what Jesus asks of us. It is not exactly seizing the day. The day can hardly be seized. Rather it can be accepted as a gift and lived as a gift. In gratitude. It can be lived alertly and mindfully. Always mindful that we are in the presence of God. Always alert to possibilities of helping others and making life better for those around us. Watchful and mindful. And always keenly aware that the life I live is not my own. I have been bought with a price, the price of Christ’s own life. His life given freely for me. So that I may share God’s love in every circumstance of my life-however public and however private. Watchful. Alert. Mindful. Several songs are being played now on the radio that have gotten my attention. They both point to this fleeting gift we have-the gift of life. One is entitled “100 Years” by the group Five for Fighting. It traces the big transitions in one’s life, when the odometer, as they say, rolls over. I will be facing one of those odometer moments in February when I turn 60! Here are some lines from this song: “I’m 15 for a moment and I’m just dreaming….I’m 22 for a moment, you’re on your way, every day’s a new day…I’m 33 for a moment, a kid on the way, a family on my mind….I’m 45 for a moment, the sea is high and I’m heading into a crisis chasing the years of my life.” Then the song continues: “When you only have 100 years to live, half time goes by, suddenly you’re wise, another blink of an eye 67 is gone.” Then this: “I’m 99 for a moment, dying for just another moment.” Wistfully the song tells us, “There’s never a wish better than this when you only got 100 years to live.” So the years of our lives roll by and they are gone all too soon. The wisdom of the book of Ecclesiastes surrounds this song, a wistful song for sure. A poignant reminder of our limits, the boundaries hemming in our lives. There is another song that I like better. A song that offers an alternative to wistfulness. And an alternative to “carpe diem”, seize the day. I think this song comes closer to the tone of Jesus. Entitled “Don’t Blink”, it’s sung by Kenny Chesney. It’s about a man who turned 102, someone who outlived the expectation of our previous song. Here is the wisdom this centenarian plus offers as he looks back over his life.
I turned on the evening news, This song urges us, “Don’t blink”. How easily we can miss the joy and meaning of life if we don’t pay attention. So pay attention to your children growing up and becoming parents themselves. Pay attention to your spouse who like yourself is so very mortal. Pay attention to God who gave you every breath. And most of all, pay attention to “putting first things first.” So don’t blink. Keep alert, watchful, ready. Always abounding in gratitude. May it be so. Amen. Dec 9, 2007 PROPHETIC COURAGE
I got an email from an old friend this past week. She lamented how hard it has been for her to get into the Christmas Spirit. So last week she decided to attend her church’s Advent Bible Study. Now you need to know that her husband is also the pastor of her church. After attending his class, this is how she described the experience: “The whole Advent Bible Study was about Jesus coming like a thief in the night and John the Baptist hollering at us about our sins.” Then she offered this complaint: “You preacher types don’t help us get into the Christmas Spirit at all. It’s all about the world ending and repenting of our sins. That’s not Christmas!” So I emailed my friend back and said simply: “You are absolutely right. It’s not yet Christmas. It’s Advent! Preparation for Advent means thinking about Christ’s coming that is yet to be. And preparation for the Advent of our Lord means repenting of our sins. Not much there for a traditional Christmas card, is it?” This exchange helped me see once again that churches following the Advent lectionary do have a problem. Much in our culture hurries us toward Christmas with all its consumer trappings. There is joviality and conviviality and relentless piped in Christmas songs. Then there is the church talking about the world’s last night and the prophet’s sermon from the Jordan River. Kind of a disconnect, isn’t it? So what are we to do? I suppose we simply acknowledge that numerous messages are vying for our attention. But that is always what the faithful experience-competing, even discordant messages. So this morning we consider what the lectionary brings to our attention. We focus on John the Baptist, whom we encounter the second Sunday of every Advent. Once again John the Baptist invites us, ever so stridently, to prepare the way for our Lord. He would prepare us for the One John says is “mightier than I”. He calls us to join the throng wadding into Jordan’s waters confessing our sins. In his camel hair garment and leather belt, he cries aloud, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Now this is not a Christmas greeting. This is an Advent summons. A call to redirect our lives, to alter our behavior and our emotions, to give our lives back to the One who gave his life for us. It is a stern, insistent call, the voice of one crying in the wilderness. In fact, it is the voice of one who is altogether more challenge than charm. Listen to the challenge John serves up to the Pharisees and Sadducees. When they come to be baptized, he calls them a “brood of vipers” who should “bear fruit that befits repentance.” Not exactly a warm welcome for these would be initiates! John is convinced that God is coming in judgment, laying the ax to the root of the trees. John insists God will come with a winnowing fork to separate the wheat from the chaff. No one is exempt from this judgment, not even folks who claim descent from Abraham. In Luke’s Gospel John challenges everyone in the crowd to bear fruit that befits repentance. People should share their coats and their food with others. Tax collectors should take no more than what they are entitled to. Soldiers should not use violence to rob anyone. In other words, everyone should act justly. John’s call for justice crashes into the halls of power. John calls out King Herod Agrippa for taking his brother Philip’s wife Herodias. For John, this was unlawful and unethical. And for this public word of condemnation, John was arrested and thrown into prison. From his jail cell John sent word asking if Jesus was the One to come. And Jesus sent word back to John that the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor hear good news. After this exchange Jesus asks this question, “What did you go out into the wilderness to behold? A reed shaken in the wind?” Clearly the answer to this rhetorical question is, “No, John is no reed shaken in the wind.” In other words, Jesus commends John for his incredible courage. He does not buckle in the face of opposition. That opposition came from all quarters: the people, tax collectors, soldiers, Pharisees, Sadducees and even King Herod Agrippa. But John stands his ground. He speaks with prophetic courage. And for that he pays the ultimate price. In prison John is beheaded. Courageous to the end. This morning let us meditate for a moment on prophetic courage. Without courage there would be no prophets. Prophets were asked to do seemingly impossible tasks-speak the truth to power. In the face of so much danger and opposition, the prophet was called to speak the truth courageously. The people of God have always been called upon to speak the truth to power-not reeds shaken by the wind. Rather these ordinary people filled with the Spirit of God end up doing amazing, courageous deeds. This past week I had a conversation with my good friend Chris Lieberman. Chris and Joyce are the co-pastors of Immanuel Presbyterian Church. On November 18 Chris joined 25,000 people protesting at Fort Benning, Georgia. This annual vigil seeks to close the School of the Americas, where over the years our military has trained hundreds if not thousands of Latin American military officers. There is a reason November 18 is the chosen day for this protest. On that day in 1989 in El Salvador 14 year old Celina Ramos, her mother, and six Jesuit priests were assassinated. Nineteen of the 26 Salvadoran army officers held responsible for this atrocity were trained at the School of the Americas. During this vigil Chris and ten other protesters were arrested for trespassing on government property. They were arraigned and released and ordered to return for trial on January 28. Chris expects to be sentenced to up to six months in a federal correctional facility. I must say that I deeply admire Chris’ actions and more especially his motives. Why did Chris choose to do this? He gives several reasons. First is his conviction that we need to exercise our freedom of speech to protest what has been done in the name of our nation. Many in Latin America have been terrorized, tortured, raped, disappeared, and massacred by officers trained at the School of the Americas. Did these military officers learn such tactics at Fort Benning? We cannot be absolutely sure. But our government has refused to review the performance of their graduates upon their return to their home countries. We do know that far too many of the Latin American military officers convicted of human rights abuses were in fact trained at the School of the Americas. Thus Chris felt the need to raise his voice in solidarity with all those who have suffered in Latin America. What happened on November 19, 1989, in El Salvador should never happen again. Second, Chris felt that it was time for him to put into action the prayer we offer together every Sunday: “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, they kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Chris writes this: “This action was my time to take a few steps towards letting the way of heaven be a bit more visible on earth.” After much prayerful consideration Chris felt compelled to act very publicly on behalf of God’s gift of peace. His was a deeply personal decision, “a response to God’s call to be a witness for peace and justice. This is something I need to do to bear witness to Christ’s love in my life and in the world.” Chris writes this: “I have been arrested, I will be tried, but I’m already convicted by the love of God in Christ Jesus.” Talking to Chris and reading his words was very moving to me. It is no light thing to speak the truth to power. It is no small thing to put oneself into the hands of the federal government. It is a huge decision to give up one’s freedom and be taken off to prison. It is truly a courageous decision. I would even say it demonstrates prophetic courage. Like every American I love our country. And I am immensely grateful to live in this land. But I do not always love what we do with our power. That is especially the case in our dealings with our neighbors to the south. Our nation’s history of interventions in Latin America is nothing short of shameful. I have seen first hand the harmful effects of our actions in Peru, Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Mexico. The School of the America has produced some very bitter fruit in Latin America. Given its checkered history, I believe it is time for this school to be closed. It is courageous people like Chris Lieberman who will hasten that day.
So on this second Sunday in Advent we remember John the Baptist-his prophetic courage, his powerful witness. No reed shaken in the wind, indeed! We remember his cousin Jesus who also spoke the hard truth to those in positions of authority. Neither was he a reed shaken in the wind. And we remember all of God’s people who have spoken the truth to power, sometimes with poignant results. And yet they spoke, they were not silent. And we remember Chris and Joyce as they face this upcoming court date on January 28. I ask that you will join me in prayer for them and the other ten defendants. And I will pray for all of us, that we have the courage to speak out, the strength to speak the truth to power. God grant us prophetic courage on our Advent journey to Bethlehem. May it be so. Amen.
Back To the Top November 2007 Nov 10, 2007 A GRATEFUL HEART Psalm 145
I hugged a repairman this week. The guy who came to St. Andrew to install the new air conditioner-I hugged him. Why? Because I was just so delighted that our air conditioning problems have finally been fixed. I think the air conditioning guy was a little taken aback. But that’s what a grateful heart does sometimes-it moves you to hug a complete stranger. I hugged Fran Jarratt and her brother Rob Spooner at Presbyterian Hospital. Why? Because we were all so thrilled that Rob was at last leaving the hospital for Health South Rehab. This after Rob had endured several surgeries and almost died. We prayed together and thanked God for healing Rob and giving him back his life. That’s what a grateful heart does-it moves you to prayers of thanksgiving. I hugged Jake and Gail Spidle in their home. We were celebrating Jake’s successful hip replacement surgery. This was the second time Jake had this particular operation and we were all concerned that it be done properly. So far so good. Now Jake looks forward to returning to the classroom at UNM in a few weeks. So we laughed together as we ate some wonderful goodies at their kitchen table. That’s what grateful hearts do-they break bread together with joy. When you think about your life, there is so much to be grateful for. I for one love this fall weather and give thanks every day to live here in New Mexico. And yes I continue to pray for rain and even some snow. How we need it right about now. And I will pray for rain for our sisters and brothers in the southeast, especially Georgia, who are suffering through such a terrible drought. When I get up and feel the cool autumn air and look to the mountains, I am moved to gratitude for this land in which we live. As a transplanted Texan who has long lived in hot, humid flatlands, I will never take for granted the wonderful environment in which we live. Just looking around always moves me to gratitude. Does that happen to you sometimes? You walk outside and say, “Thank you God for this beautiful land in which we live.” That’s what a grateful heart does. Psalm 145 was written by one who had a grateful heart. This morning as we read this hymn of praise together you can sense the air of thankfulness that pervades this poem. This poet exudes so much gratitude, so much praise to the God who gives so generously. Repeatedly the words of praise and thanksgiving arise in this work: “I will extol you, my God”….”I will praise your name forever and ever”…”Every day I will praise you”…”Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised”…”One generation lauds your works to another”…”My mouth will speak the praise of the Lord”…”We praise the Lord from this time forth and forever more.” And why this effusive praise and thanksgiving? Consider some of the reasons given for this attitude of gratitude, as they say. The psalmist is convinced that the Lord has been active in history, setting Israel free and giving them a new life. And so the people “declare your mighty acts”, “your wondrous deeds”, “your mighty works”. The people are grateful for God’s “everlasting kingdom”, God’s “dominion that endures throughout all generations”. Standing behind these words is Israel’s conviction that God delivered them from slavery and gave them a Promised Land flowing with milk and honey. All of Israel’s praise arises from this deep sense that God had chosen them out of sheer mercy and given them their life. Grateful recipients they were and gratefully they sang God’s praises. Perhaps all gratitude grows out of this conviction that God cares for us individually and as a people. The Lord is not some abstract divine principle that does not know your name. God is active and caring and deeply concerned about your life and the lives of those you love. You give thanks to a living God who knows your name and who is providentially active in your life and in the life of the world. That’s primarily where gratitude arises from-our deeply held conviction that God cares and God acts. The psalmist sees God’s care in the way our needs are met. Consider this affirmation found in our psalm and numerous psalms: “The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Or this wonderful testimony: “The Lord is good to all and God’s compassion is over all creation.” Or these simply beautiful words: “The Lord upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down.” That is why we look to God as we confess: “The eyes of all wait upon the Lord who gives them their food in due season.” And so we believe that the “Lord is near to all who call upon the Lord.” The Lord provides our spiritual needs as well as our physical needs and so we are immensely grateful. When we sing or recite this lovely hymn of praise, we realize that many others have turned to these words to voice their praise. Not only Israel, but also Jesus and the early church used this psalm in their worship. When we proclaim “one generation lauds your works to another”, we realize how this psalm links us with a great cloud of witnesses who have sung God’s praises for so many generations. And it is our hope that we teach our children to sing God’s praises as well. Our praise now is, as John Donne reminded us, “tuning our instruments” until at last all of God’s people join in that eternal choir that sings God’s praises “world without end.” One generation to another will sing God’s praise until we unite as one, “lost in wonder rapt in praise”. In his wonderful book Reflections on the Psalms, C. S. Lewis asks why it is that God seeks our praise. When he first became a Christian Lewis wondered why God requires our praise. Was God like those petty dictators and celebrities who need people to tell them constantly that they are just “wonderful”? As Lewis notes, “We all despise the people who demand continued assurance of their own virtue, intelligence or delightfulness.” As he grew in Christian maturity, Lewis came to see that in our praise God reveals something of God’s own presence and spirit to us. The “fair beauty of the Lord” is given to us as we lift our hearts in praise. God wants to come and be present to us, a cloud by day, a pillar of fire by night, a very present help in times of trouble. God wills to be with us, Immanuel, in all the twists and turns of our journey. That sense of God’s mysterious presence is given to us as we praise the One in whom we live and move and have our being. Lewis also suggests that our praise helps us to “love God and enjoy God forever.” For Lewis “all enjoyment overflows into praise.” Lewis noted that he had “not noticed that the humblest and at the same time most balanced and generous minds praised most, while the cranks, misfits, and malcontents praised least.” The one who enjoys God the most praises the most. Praise exhibits inner health and inner joy. As Lewis observes, “I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. The delight is incomplete till it is expressed.” So our praises invite us into the very presence of God, an uplifting, joyful presence. Our praise helps us to enjoy God forever, to delight in God’s goodness and mercy. Our praise expresses our gratitude and in fact deepens it. That is why we join that endless praise of God from one generation to another. Today we come to express our praise to God in very tangible form. Our gratitude is expressed in what we pledge to God who gave us all things. Our gratitude moves us to give of ourselves-our time, our talent, our money. This is a day to give thanks. Today I want to give thanks to God for you the people of St. Andrew. As I said in the time with the young disciples, I am most grateful for the beautiful faces that grace this congregation. I am grateful for countless acts of love and compassion and generosity I have seen over these last nine years. People have been welcomed and loved. People have been encouraged and helped. People have grown in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. People have come back to their faith and found a spiritual home here. People have become leaders and served our congregation well. I have seen wonderful things happen among us-thanks to God’s amazing grace. And I want to say that you have been simply wonderful to my family and me. And for that I am grateful. So today I lift my voice in praise to God, the giver of every good and perfect gift. From generation to generation we gather to thank God and give God praise. We look forward to that time when all of God’s children will join in praise around the throne of God. It is with a grateful heart that we gather around this table today. Grateful for all of God’s grace and mercy in Christ our Lord. Grateful for our friendship in Christ. Grateful for our call to mission and ministry. Grateful hearts-that is what we bring to this table today. Thanks be to God. Amen. Nov 25, 2007 THE TENDER MERCIES OF GOD
Luke 1:68-79
It’s a story we hear too seldom. The story of a family that received astounding news of the birth of a child. News that left the father speechless until he finally regained his voice to give praise to God. It happened to Zechariah and Elizabeth, an old priestly family living in the hill country of Judea. You remember how Zechariah goes to the temple as part of his priestly duties. He enters the sanctuary and offers incense while the people outside are praying. Then and there the angel Gabriel appears to Zechariah. The old priest is completely overwhelmed with fear. The angel brings astonishing news that the prayers of this family have been granted. Elizabeth and Zechariah, after long years of waiting, will finally have a child, a son they are to name John. This son will bring great joy and gladness to his parents and will turn the hearts of Israel back to God. And more importantly, this child will prepare the people for the coming of the Lord. Then Zechariah makes a request for the same thing many in the Hebrew Scriptures asked for. He seeks a sign: “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man and my wife is getting on in years.” In other words, babies don’t usually arrive after you’ve already paid your deposit to the retirement home. Could there be some kind of confirmation here that I am not just dreaming? Unfortunately for Zechariah, this request is heard by the angel Gabriel as a form of unbelief. In fact, Gabriel’s answer here shows not a little exasperation: “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news.” And so Gabriel informs Zechariah that he will be rendered speechless for nine months, until his son is born. It is no light thing to question an angel of the Lord! Meanwhile, the people praying in the temple wonder why Zechariah does not come out after offering incense. Finally the old priest appears before the worshippers and he cannot so much as utter a word. His unbelief has been transformed into speechlessness. Then Zechariah returns home and before long Elizabeth conceives. She is so amazed that she remains secluded for five months. There is a kind of speechless in her behavior as well. The news of her pregnancy becomes a carefully guarded family secret. And Zechariah does not say a word. Meanwhile the angel Gabriel goes on another mission, this time to Nazareth to visit Elizabeth’s relative Mary. Gabriel announces that she too will have a son, this time by the power of the Spirit. Soon thereafter Mary travels south to Judea to see her relative Elizabeth, who is also with child. And in that famous scene, when Mary and Elizabeth meet, the child John, within his mother’s womb, leaps for joy! And so Mary sings for joy the Magnificat and these two pregnant women remain together for three months. Finally the nine months come to an end and Elizabeth gives birth. The neighbors and friends rejoice with her for the “Lord had shown great mercy to her”, as the text says. And eight days later during the circumcision ritual the parents were asked if they would name the child after his father. Elizabeth quickly insists that the child will be called John even though it was not a family name. Zechariah concurs and takes a writing tablet on which he writes, “John”. With that written word “John”, Zechariah, who could hardly believe he would have a son, regains his voice. After all these months, he begins to praise God. He gives thanks for this great mercy he and Elizabeth have experienced. But his song of thanksgiving, the Benedictus as it is called in Latin, is not just about their personal good fortune. It is a song blessing God for the mercy all of Israel will soon experience-because of this child John. And so the astonished neighbors and friends ask this obvious question, “What then will this child become?” Zechariah’s song answers that question. This child John and his cousin Jesus soon to be born will change Israel’s life dramatically. And not only Israel’s life, but the life of the world. The Benedictus of Zechariah is a song in praise of God who does for us what we cannot do for ourselves. God brings Israel a “mighty savior” who would save them from their “enemies” so they might serve the Lord “without fear”. To grant Israel the “mercy promised to our ancestors”, the holy covenant and the oath are fulfilled. It is a song celebrating God’s faithfulness and power to save. Finally, at long last, the promises of God were coming true. Clearly Luke would have us to understand that this refers to that child yet in Mary’s womb-Jesus. Then Zechariah speaks of his own child at the moment of his naming and circumcision. This father, so filled with the Holy Spirit, says of his son John: “And you child will be called the prophet of the Most High for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people, by the forgiveness of sins.” Then Zechariah utters these magnificent words: “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us to give light to those who sit in darkness, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” The tender mercy of God brings forgiveness and light and peace. The tender mercy given to one family yearning for a child will now be given to all the families of the earth yearning for forgiveness and light and peace. The Greek word for tender mercy points to the origin of compassion in our hearts, yea, even our guts. Arising out of the center of God’s being is tender mercy. A mercy that looks tenderly upon God’s hurting children, sitting in darkness. A tender mercy that brings forgiveness and light and peace. Amazing grace, tender mercy, the great compassion of our God-anticipated by John, then fully realized in the face of Jesus. I want us to meditate for a moment on the tender mercy of God. It is a beautiful expression that ushers us into the very heart of God. God always looks upon us with tender mercy, even in our worst moments. Times when we deserved nothing but judgment, even rejection. But God’s love, God’s tender compassion will not let us go and will not let us off. God comes to us in the face of Christ who seeks and saves the lost. It is the tender mercy of God that gives us what we need the most-forgiveness and grace. This past week I was thinking about Sophocles, the great Greek playwright who lived some 400 years before Christ. Sophocles was amazingly prolific, having written about 120 plays. Seven of these plays still exist, one of them bearing the title “Ajax”. Ajax was a Rambo-type warrior of the Trojan War, a man who wielded a mighty sword. A fierce fighter indeed, Ajax is pictured as a straight forward, unsophisticated man of brawn. Ajax won fame by fighting back the Trojans in a critical battle. After the Greek hero Achilles is killed, his armor becomes a greatly coveted prize of war. Ajax and Odysseus vie for Achilles’ armor and Odysseus wins, mainly by his wits. The Greek leaders Menelaus and Agamemnon award Achilles’ armor to Odysseus. Ajax is completely humiliated by this loss and decides to kill those involved in this decision-Menelaus, Agamemnon, and especially Odysseus. But the goddess Athena always is looking out for her favorite Odysseus. So she drives Ajax insane, completely stripping him of his senses. Ajax, driven mad, is next seen slaughtering a herd of sheep, thinking he has just killed Menelaus and Agamemnon. And Ajax has a sheep tied to a pole, thinking he has Odysseus bound. Ajax is completely out of his mind imagining himself about to torture and kill Odysseus. At this point Sophocles gives us a moment of tender mercy, so unexpected from men of war. Odysseus hears of Ajax’s madness and humiliation and responds with these moving words of compassion: “Yet I pity his wretchedness though he is my enemy for the terrible yoke of blindness that is on him. I think of him, yet also of myself, for I see the true state of all us who live. We are dim shapes and weightless shadows.” This is an extraordinary expression of compassion for his mortal enemy, who is so deranged. Eventually Ajax returns to his senses and realizes what he has done. First, he lost his standing in the eyes of his countrymen when Odysseus was given Achilles’ armor. Then he lost his mind and committed absurd outrages against a herd of sheep. So he decides to commit suicide because of his disgrace. Ajax says goodbye to his young son and his friends and falls on his sword. At the end of the play there is a controversy about what to do with Ajax’s body. Menelaus and Agamemnon would treat Ajax as a traitor and leave his body to rot in the sun. But Odysseus, feeling nothing but compassion for Ajax’s fate, insists that he should be buried as a hero. Odysseus reminds the Greek leaders of our common humanity: “Vindictiveness should not so govern you that you trammel on the right. I too found this man hateful once beyond the rest of all my soldiers since the time I won Achilles’ armor. Nevertheless, in spite of his enmity I cannot wish to pay him with dishonor. Nor can I refuse to recognize in him the bravest man of all that came to Troy except Achilles. It would be wrong to do him further injury. It is a wicked thing to harm a valiant man in death even though he was your enemy.” Odysseus’ appreciation of Ajax’s nobility amazes us. Though they were mortal enemies, Odysseus is still filled with tender mercy for this once brave warrior who lost his mind and eventually took his own life. It reminds us, if ever so dimly, of God’s tender mercy. A mercy that looks tenderly upon our weaknesses, our failings, our sin. What Sophocles points to in the speeches of Odysseus is that tender mercy at the heart of God. Oh, that we would be as tender and merciful toward others-even our enemies-as God is toward us. May our hearts be filled with nothing but the tender mercy of God. May it be so. Amen. Back To the Top October 2007 October 14, 2007 CHRIST AND VIOLENCE Matthew 27: 27-31, 46
Jesus lived in a very violent era. And so do we. This past week in our country has been especially deadly. A deputy sheriff kills six people in Wisconsin. A Cleveland high school student shoots four people and then himself. Another student with an enormous cache of weapons in suburban Philadelphia is foiled before anyone was harmed. And you recall the suspect that was killed by an Albuquerque police officer on Monday evening. That happened near the intersection of Montgomery and Eubank, more precisely, directly outside my mother’s apartment. Thirty feet outside my mother’s front door is where this young man fell dead. My mom heard the gunfire. Sorta brings all the headlines and news casts a little too close for comfort. And of course that is not to mention what is happening in Darfur and Afghanistan and Iraq. We live in a very violent era. In some senses, even more violent than Jesus’ time. Two thousand years ago there were no nuclear weapons, no biochemical weapons, no dirty bombs, and no missiles. Just swords and shields. But plenty of violence, none the less. What happened to Jesus-a brutal execution-happens all too often even to this day. Our text in Matthew describes the humiliation, the torture, and finally the death of Jesus. Jesus was a victim of state sponsored violence. His life ends with a loud cry, a cry of pain and abandonment. All too many lives have ended the same way-humiliation, torture, and finally death. Every prisoner who has been tortured suffers in fellowship with Jesus. Every condemned person who faces death alone suffers in fellowship with Jesus. In as much as you did it to one of the least of these. That’s why those of us who wear a cross around our neck find the prospect of capital punishment quite chilling. On this Peacemaking Sunday, I would like for us to look at the root causes of violence-what finally brought Jesus to a violent end and what brought that young man to a violent end outside my mother’s apartment. And I would also like to bring some words of hope to a violent world, words about peace and justice. In his marvelous book Religion and Violence Robert McAfee Brown explores some of the root causes of violence. Brown notes that the conventional definitions of violence focus on overt physical acts of destruction and harm. But Brown insists that violence should be defined more broadly as any violation of a person’s dignity and worth. Anything that depersonalizes someone is an act of violence in that it transforms a person into a thing. Even hurtful words can be a form of violence. Brown quotes the former Catholic archbishop of Recife, Brazil-Dom Helder Camara. Bishop Camara describes three ways in which violence spirals out of control. The first way to understand this spiral of violence is to see it as a result of injustice. The high school student in Cleveland who shot four people no doubt felt that he had been a victim of injustice. So many high school students feel they are victims of verbal abuse and prejudice. And they take their anger out on those they feel have hurt them. So shots were fired and the gun was then turned upon the shooter himself. When people do not feel they have gotten what they need or deserve, they feel victimized. This is especially true for those who are marginalized in our society-like racial and ethnic minorities. After the race riots of the 1960’s a presidential commission concluded this: “Violence has usually been the lava flowing from the top of the volcano fed by deeper fires of social dislocation and injustice.” The more recent commission on 9/11 reported that many Muslims feel that their religion and culture has been disrespected in the modern world. They feel that many injustices have come their way simply because they are followers of Mohammed. And the commission rightly points to a specific cause of this Muslim anger-the plight of the Palestinians. Whether these are real or just apparent injustices is a very difficult issue to decide. We will return to this question in a moment. But for those who feel they have been put down at school or have been denied a place at the table, their anger boils over and turns to violence. It is the lava spewing from the volcano rising up from the deeper feelings of being wronged. Bishop Camara then describes the second spiral of violence. He calls it revolt. Violence is directed at the status quo, those conditions that repress those on the bottom. Our own American Revolution was a revolt against a “long train of abuses and usurpations”, as the Declaration of Independence describes it. The rule of King George III became too much for the colonists and so they revolted. So the second spiral of violence occurs when a large group of people will no longer bear injustices passively or silently. Sometimes that revolt brings a violent upheaval. Sometimes it brings graffiti spray painted on walls. Sometimes it brings drug and alcohol abuse. Sometimes it results in simply dropping out of society, not caring. Revolt can come in all sorts of packages. But it is still revolt. Then Bishop Camara describes the third spiral of violence. It takes shape as repression. Those in power become anxious and unleash the dogs against the revolt. The military leaders of Myanmar or Burma have unleashed the army against civilians and monks. There have been many deaths and countless imprisonments, probably more than we will ever know. Even First Lady Laura Bush has spoken out against this military dictatorship. Virtually the entire civilized world has condemned these repressive leaders. At times the repression can be more subtle. Unjust regimes engage in what is called “repressive tolerance”. Only certain protests are permitted within clearly defined limits. I wonder how long the protesters in Tehran, Iran, will be allowed to speak out against their president. Repressive tolerance can end at any moment, at the whim of the regime. The right of dissent is a very delicate flower indeed. I really appreciate Bishop Camara’s description of the spiral of violence. It spirals from injustice to revolt to repression. Bishop Camara helps us understand that violence is that lava spewing forth from much deeper sources of resentment and anger. And he helps us understand that violence can be physical as well as psychological or even spiritual. We, like Jesus, live in a very violent world. And so we long for peace and justice. But what after all is justice? Plato asked that question long ago and proposed an answer. His answer is found primarily in that classic work The Republic. Plato argued for a very non-democratic version of justice. I hardly think it is just myself. And that’s the problem we face. What exactly is just? What is fair? What is right? And who is to decide? And yet we as followers of Christ are called to seek justice, to seek peace. Because we believe that peace is not possible without justice. Nevertheless, in our society there are countless disputes about what is just. Is this a just war in Iraq? The Presbyterian Church’s General Assembly has repeatedly called into question the appropriateness of this war. And so we agonize over what to do now that we have been there for so many years. Is the treatment of enemy non-combatants we are detaining just? The Presbyterian Church’s General Assembly has raised serious questions about a system where people are held indefinitely without trial. And so we continue to agonize over these issues. Because we cannot agree on the meaning of justice, we often find ourselves in strong disagreements, some of which lead to actual violence. After all, we fought a civil war in this country over this question: is it just to enslave people from Africa? Jesus, like the Hebrew prophets, called into question the many injustices of his time. He was forthright and bold in his calls for justice. Especially for the outsider, like the Samaritans. For instance, the one who stops to render aid is a Good Samaritan. The one leper who returned to give thanks to Jesus was a Samaritan. The woman at the well who engaged Jesus in theological conversation was a Samaritan. These are the people Jesus included in the Kingdom of God. For Jesus, it was unthinkable to exclude those whom God loves. It was his understanding of justice that got Jesus into deep trouble. And so the religious and political authorities gang up against him. They saw Jesus as the leader of a revolt and they resisted him at every turn. And finally they tortured him and executed him unjustly. And Jesus bore their anger within his own body. He did not lash out. He absorbed their hatred, like a sheep led to slaughter. His was a non-violent witness against their injustice. A witness that became martyrdom. Now we must acknowledge that the way of Jesus is not for everyone. The church has wrestled long and hard over the best way to overcome the violence in our world. There will always be violence, from lone gunmen to military juantas. And the church has at times endorsed some wars as “just and necessary”. The Second World War was understood by many Christians as just and necessary. Since the 1940’s there have been many wars that have divided our country and indeed the church. And that includes the current conflict in Iraq and the wider war on terror. Even those of us who hope fervently that we will soon leave Iraq find ourselves conflicted by the genocide in Darfur. We remember well the genocide in Rwanda and the ethnic cleansing in Serbia. And so we are reluctant to endorse unequivocal pacifism. There may indeed be times when regrettably military force may be just and necessary. But that means we should seek passionately to discover the things that make for peace. What makes for peace is justice. So justice, that elusive goal, must always be our passion. A justice that gives people, especially the Samaritans and the outsiders, what they need. In fact, it is not justice until the marginalized and the minorities are full members of a society. The Hebrew Scriptures call that Shalom-a condition where justice prevails. Perhaps the best way to describe justice is this: respect for everyone’s basic dignity. Where people’s basic needs and aspirations are addressed. Without that modicum of justice, there will always be that underlying anger that spews forth in the lava of violence. And so the followers of Jesus pray for peace and work for justice. We can do no other. We pray fervently for peace and we work untiringly for justice. On this Peacemaking Sunday we recommit ourselves afresh to this noble task, for the sake of Jesus, who was treated with such violence. May it be so. Amen. October 28, 2007 HUMILITY Oh, there are thousands of reasons why it’s hard to be humble. Winston Churchill once said this about an opponent for whom he had little respect: “He’s quite humble and he has much to be humble about.” Sometimes it’s hard to be humble even when you have much to be humble about. In truth, vanity is our constant companion. It lurks around every corner of our lives. And, O, the lengths to which our vanity drives us! I once visited someone in the hospital, but could not come in because of the way their hair looked. Now, notice, I didn’t say what gender that hospitalized person was. Actually it could have been a man as easily as a woman. Vanity and conceit are equal opportunity employers. For the vain women among us there is this quote from Oscar Wilde: “She was a peacock in everything but beauty.” And for the vain men this quote from George Eliot: “He was like a bantam rooster who thought the sun had risen just to hear him sing.” When it comes to vanity, we are all birds of a feather. And so it was with the Pharisee. Vanity accompanied him that day to the temple to pray. His vanity helped him imagine that he was more righteous than anyone else. His vanity assured him it was O.K. to hold others in contempt. And his vanity drove him to offer this moving prayer: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even this tax collector. I fast twice a week. I give a tenth of all my income.” Too bad Luke did not record even more reasons why this Pharisee found it hard to be humble. Our Reader’s Theater added a few other reasons. Maybe you could add some of your own. So many reasons to be proud, so little time to list them all. What must God think as we salute ourselves in prayer? I am reminded of a classic prayer in that old movie “The Ruling Class”. Peter O’Toole, who plays a monomaniac, says this: “I must be God. Because every time I pray, I discover I am talking to myself.” No doubt, the Pharisee in Luke’s parable is simply talking to himself, congratulating what he sees in the mirror. Ecclesiastes is right. It’s all “vanity of vanities.” On the other side of the fence is a tax collector. Luke tells us he was “standing far off.” No doubt, because he knew his kind was not welcome in the temple. Tax collectors were pariahs, turn coats, predators. They were looked upon then the way we look upon child molesters. A man without a country, really. A man without many friends, for sure. A man who knew he was despised by others. Even the Romans who hired them to do their dirty work found them despicable. Not to mention his fellow Jews, especially the Pharisees. These keepers of the law found the tax collectors to be loathsome sores on the soft underbelly of the community. And so the tax collector stood “far off”, entirely alone. And his prayer reflects how he feels about himself. He beat his breast, as a sign of lamentation. He eyes were not lifted to heaven, a sign of self-abasement. He could only pray, “God, be merciful to me a sinner.” Here it seems appropriate to expand his prayer: “This is my humble prayer, O God. Be merciful. Be gracious. Be forgiving. I know all too well what I have become. And I can only hope for your mercy. I have no excuse. I am what I am-a sinner in need of your grace. There is nothing more I can ask for. Simply your mercy.” And here Jesus considers these two men at prayer. The tax collector without one plea. The Pharisee without one apology. Jesus notes that the one who thought himself so righteous went back home just as he came-full of himself, despising others, without need of God’s grace and mercy. But the one who found himself so sinful went home forgiven, a new person in the eyes of God. And the reason why is this: “Every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.” Once again, as Mary reminded us in the Magnificat, the Lord “scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts and put down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of low degree”. This is the way of the Lord, the path to exaltation. It is the path of humility. It is the path of Jesus himself who “though he was in the form of God did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant; being born in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death-even death on a cross.” And because Jesus walked the path of humility, “God highly exalted him and gave him the name above every name.” The Body of Christ is one of the few places in the world where we celebrate humility. Few other institutions or organizations or groups are so committed, at least in theory, to a life of humility. Week after week we gather to worship and we are confronted with the confession of sin. Often we hear these words, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” What other institution or organization or group comes together to say such things? No one that I am aware of. Only the church. We confess our sins every single week, without fail. Why? Because we are called to the path of humility. We dare not trust in ourselves as though we were thoroughly righteous. We dare not regard others with contempt. The prayer of the Pharisee is excluded in the body of Christ. The prayer of the tax collector is our prayer every Sunday, “Lord, have mercy upon us, Christ, have mercy upon us, Lord, have mercy upon us.” And every week we hear this amazing good news: “In Jesus Christ, we are forgiven. Thanks be to God!” Because we humble ourselves at the mercy seat of God, we are exalted. In humility before the throne of grace, we are lifted up and given new life and new hopes. We hear again that we are the beloved children of God, freed, redeemed, and empowered to serve God with joy and gladness. Several months ago I spoke to the Spiritual Progressives at the Unitarian Church. They asked me to address the question: “How can progressives dialogue more effectively with folks who are more conservative?” Now having served in a number of places in Texas I suppose I have a bit of experience in doing just that. I have noted time and again the awful connection between self-righteousness and contempt for others. Such self-righteousness breeds contempt between political groups, within our own denomination, between Christian groups, and most especially between the world religions. To address that issue I chose F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 novel The Great Gatsby, the story of some “very careless and confused” New Yorkers during the Jazz Age after World War I. This was one of my favorite novels, back in the days when I was an English major in college. Nick Carraway, the narrator, begins the novel with these words: “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had all the advantages that you’ve had.’” Then Nick notes, “My father didn’t say any more, but I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened me up to many curious natures and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. I have found that reserving judgment is a matter of infinite hope.” Nick Carraway reminds all of us at the end of this passage that “a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.” So we are reminded not everyone has had the advantages that you have enjoyed. And some of the good things in this life are parcelled out unequally at birth. And therefore, we are called to reserve judgment about people-the very opposite of contempt. That reserving of judgment is a “matter of infinite hope.” Friends in Christ, the way of humility is the way of Christ. It categorically refuses to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think. And it categorically refuses to hold others in contempt. It prefers to reserve judgment as a matter of infinite hope. The way of humility knows that we all depend utterly upon the mercy and grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Nothing else. Friends in Christ, this is the Good News. Thanks be to God. Amen. Back To the Top September 2007 September 2, 2007 LET US BREAK BREAD TOGETHER Luke 14:1, 7-14
The New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan describes a private fraternity in the first century BC Egyptian city of Philadelphia. It was a religious association dedicated to Zeus, the supreme God of the Greek pantheon. Gathering in the sanctuary of Zeus every month, the group shared a banquet together. They sacrificed animals and poured out libations to Zeus while offering prayers. With those ceremonies completed, the group then got down to the main business at hand-heavy drinking. This was a kind of religious social club with an unmistakable hierarchy. In fact, to get into the Zeus drinking club you had to have a patron, someone who sponsored your application to join. Without a patron, you could not join the Zeus club. And once you did join, the hierarchy was rather rigid. All the members were seated down the line according to recognized social rank. Sort of like first class and coach on an airplane or, better yet, like an officer’s club banquet. Crossan notes that the Egyptian papyrus describing the Zeus social club warns against disturbances at these banquets. Members were prohibited from challenging their seating position and speaking abusively to others higher up the pecking order. Apparently as the wine flowed, the tongue got a little loose and harsh words were exchanged. Think of an “Animal House” toga party in honor of Zeus that got out of hand. Crossan contends that you cannot understand the world of the New Testament unless you understand this patronage/hierarchy system. The top dog of this entire patronage system was of course the Roman Emperor, who doled out privileges throughout the empire. The governor Pontius Pilate was of equestrian rank, a kind of lower nobility, yet the emperor gave him Judea to rule. Herod the Great and his successors were permitted to govern as client kings by the Romans. The Romans approved the high priests in the Jewish temple. If you did not have a patron, you were nobody. Your rank and your position were all determined not by what you knew, but by who you knew in high places. That sounds pretty familiar to us here in New Mexico, doesn’t it? Into this world of patronage and privilege and hierarchy, Jesus enters with a different set of values. More specifically, he enters into the home of a ruler who belonged to the Pharisees. Perhaps this was someone who was a patron for others, someone who knew people in high places. Maybe he hoped to make Jesus one of his “people”, someone he could patronage, someone he could utilize for his own purposes. Who knows his motive for inviting Jesus to dinner? Jesus was often invited to dine with important people. Why do prominent people invite a peasant preacher over for dinner? Probably for all the mixed motives that you can imagine. So Jesus sizes up the situation with his usual clarity. He notes how the guests were all vying for coveted places of honor-not unlike those drinking clubs gathered in honor of Zeus. He sees the patronage system with all its awkward disparity in power. He sees the hierarchy at the top, the grasping for privilege at the bottom. And so he offers to the invited guests a bit of advice. Perhaps we should call it etiquette appropriate to the Kingdom of God, where God’s will reigns. This is what Jesus suggests. Instead of grabbing the places of privilege at the marriage banquet, why not go sit in the lowest place at the back table? If you try to secure a spot at the head table, it may turn out to be very embarrassing for you. What if guests of honor come in fashionably late and you are sitting in their spot? Then you will be shown to the back. Like trying to sit in a box seat at the opera without a ticket and then being escorted to the balcony. And everybody will see you! Then Jesus offers the punch line. If you grasp for what is not yours and are told to step down, then you will be humiliated. If you take your place among the humblest and the host invites you to the head table, then you will be honored. Or as Jesus said, “Every one who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” This is not just a ploy. This is a lifestyle of humility that Jesus is offering as an alternative to the lifestyle of patronage and privilege. Then Jesus turns his attention to the host who had invited him to this meal, the ruler who belonged to the Pharisees. Jesus again points to the etiquette of the Kingdom of God. Instead of inviting those who will benefit you down the line, how about inviting those who will never benefit you? Rather than inviting friends in high places, why don’t you invite friends in low places? You know, the folks who don’t get invited to fund-raisers for powerful politicians. The folks who head down to the Storehouse for a week of groceries. The folks who stand in line for supper at Project Share. That group. Folks you never find in the social registry. The poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind. All the folks without an invitation. The folks who frequently hear the phrase, “You need to be moving on.” Those are the folks you invite to your banquet. Here you get the impression that Jesus sees through his host. Can we read between the lines here? Perhaps this host wanted to gain something from inviting Jesus to his banquet-some status, some benefit from rubbing shoulders with an out of town celebrity. But Jesus doesn’t play the part of the obsequious guest lavishing praise upon his host. Rather Jesus uses this occasion to call into question the whole patron/hierarchy/privilege social structure. Jesus will not be a groveling guest for his host and he will not endorse any kind of social stratification. I wonder how the guests responded when Jesus pointedly called their grasping behavior into question. I wonder how the host responded when Jesus called his patronizing motives into question. Perhaps the party ended before dessert and after dinner drinks were served. Friends in Christ, the church has always been tempted to turn this meal into a banquet of privilege. Paul saw that mentality in Corinth and he challenged it, insisting that people should wait for everyone to arrive before they begin their church meals. That mentality is a corrosive combination of patronage, privilege and hierarchy. We must not import these societal values into the Body of Christ. They do not belong here. Jesus called these values into question. So did Paul. And so should we. This is the table of our Lord. Here we break bread together with all of God’s children-rich and poor, the privileged and the not so privileged, the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind. All those for whom Christ died are welcome here. Without pedigrees, without status, without one plea. We are all recipients of an astonishing grace at this table. All the rank and privilege of our lives in society are put behind us when we gather at this table. Here our hands are empty, ready only to receive. This meal joins us in fellowship with those who will share in the food we have brought today. Those who come to the Martineztown House of Neighborly Service are our brothers and sisters. Our blessings are to be shared with them. The poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind are our companions in this life. And they are here in spirit with us at this table. And that is the way this banquet of God’s love should always be celebrated. Here our hearts are expanded to include those whom God has invited. So this is never a banquet of privilege or hierarchy. This is always a banquet celebrating God’s radically inclusive love. May it always be so. Amen. September 9, 2007 WHAT ORDINATION MEANS TO ME Philemon
The apostle Paul had a pastoral problem. One of his church members was at odds with another member. What a novelty, you say. Well, actually, no. It happened in the First Century church in its infancy. And it happens even to this day! Can I get an Amen from my pastor colleagues? Here was the situation. Philemon was a member of the congregation Paul planted in Colossae, a small town in present day Turkey. Philemon had first heard the Good News of Jesus from Paul. In fact, the apostle is bold to say that Philemon owes his very life to Paul-his new life in Christ. Obviously, they had a close and loving relationship in Christ. Now Philemon was also a slave owner. One of his slaves was named Onesimus. It appears that Onesimus ran away from his master and ended up attending to Paul who was in jail. As a prisoner Paul needed all the help he could get-like food to eat and parchment on which to write. Why Onesimus went to assist Paul is a mystery. Had Paul shown a special kindness to this young slave? Did Onesimus think Paul could help him gain his freedom? While with Paul, Onesimus also became a Christian. For Onesimus to run away he must have been at odds with Philemon. And surely Philemon was upset that his slave had run away. The slave owner had every legal right to have a runaway slave severely punished, even executed. So Paul faces this problem: how to reconcile this master and slave, both of whom are now Christians because of Paul’s ministry? Paul had to deal with both the haves and the have-nots in the early Christian community. That’s still a challenge for pastors, as we all know. So how does Paul deal with this ticklish pastoral issue? First of all, he tells Philemon that he is sending Onesimus back to him-even though this runaway slave had been very useful to Paul. In fact, Paul lets on how much this young slave meant to him by calling him \"my own heart\". Paul hoped that Philemon would come to feel the same way about Onesimus and treat him kindly. Paul does not directly challenge slavery itself but he does challenge the brutality inherent in that institution. So Paul asks a favor of Philemon without issuing an order from on high. Paul rather appeals to him on the basis of the love of Christ for a wayward brother-now more than a slave. Paul asks his friend to receive Onesimus back voluntarily, even implying that Philemon would do well to free his slave. How can Paul ask such a thing? Quite simply because Paul has a friendship with Philemon. Paul calls Philemon his \"partner\" in the Gospel, his fellow worker. And Paul insists that if this runaway slave had stolen anything from his master, Paul himself would repay it. A bold promise from a guy in jail! To top it all off, Paul says that he covets the prayers of Philemon and the whole church for his own freedom. And when, by the grace of God, he gets out of jail, he is coming to Colossae and would like to stay with Philemon. \"Prepare a guest room for me,\" he asks. In other words, I want to check on you all and see how things are going. Especially how Philemon is treating Onesimus. Furthermore, to check and see if this young slave had indeed become as useful to Philemon as he had been to Paul himself. Now, we don’t know the rest of the story. But we can surmise that this letter made it into the canon precisely because things did indeed work out between Philemon and Onesimus. A ticklish pastoral situation that turned out well-a hope we all share. A hope that we as pastors have indeed seen realized in many ticklish situations, thankfully. I marvel at Paul’s deft pastoral touch in this letter. He cares about both parties in this very delicate matter between master and slave. Paul understands that the problematic social institution of slavery hovered above all of them, like all great social issues do. He cares how these Christians treat each other, even how they feel about each other. He urges reconciliation. He offers to be a bridge between these two brothers in Christ who are so very different from each other. And he acknowledges that his heart is involved in this matter. Onesimus had come to mean a lot to him as had Philemon. These people are his friends in Christ, brothers in the Lord. Paul is no objective observer. Like most pastors, Paul is in up to his neck personally in this matter. As I think over the last thirty years in the ministry, I suppose that is what has meant the most to me-being up to my neck personally in the lives of so many people. All in the context of the church. And in the context of the world with its many difficult social and political issues. Our life in Christ always places us in the world as well as the church. And just as slavery hovered over the pastoral issues Paul faced, likewise many issues have impacted our life together-mainly the issues of war and race and poverty and sexism. In other words, all the major issues of the last thirty years. Even now the issue of the war in Afghanistan and Iraq hovers over all of us. Ministry is never in a vacuum, but always in a real social-political context. And a specific church context as well. When I was ordained thirty years ago today by Sierra Blanca Presbytery, it happened at a specific congregation-First United Presbyterian Church in Las Cruces. Four folks related to St. Andrew were in Cruces that day-Kathy Kersting, Bill Fredrickson, Richard Stoops as well as my mother. And the moderator of that Presbytery then was none other than Earl Harvey. Small world-yes! I remember that day fondly, as I am sure all of you do who have been ordained as pastor, elder, or deacon. A moving moment the laying on of hands, one that has shaped my life lo these many years. I have served nine congregations and institutions over these last thirty years. My almost nine years at St. Andrew is the longest I have served at any one place. What has it all meant to me? I go back to Paul’s letter to his friend Philemon. The greatest meaning I have derived from these thirty mostly wonderful years has been in the relationships, the people, the brothers and sisters in Christ. Friendships in Christ, because of Christ, through Christ-folks I probably would have never met otherwise. And that includes my wife Sharon and all my closest friends. Because of the church I have found life that is life indeed in fellowship with wonderful people. It has been relationships that are about something-our common life and ministry in Christ. Relationships that spurred me on to give the best that is within me. My homiletics professor Bob Shelton once said this in jest about preaching: \"Shoot low, boys, they’re riding Shetlands.\" Thankfully, I have never once found that to be true. The folks who have been generous enough to listen to me preach or teach have deserved the best from me. I have tried to shoot high, knowing that folks need and deserve something enriching and stimulating. I had a friend in the church in Victoria, Texas, who claimed he could look at the text for the day and the sermon title and predict almost exactly what the preacher would say. Now my friend did not say that as a compliment! My goal then and now is to offer something more than that. That church member sitting in his pew mid way back on the left in the Victoria congregation is always on my mind when I stand before a congregation of God’s people. What ordination has meant to me is that I always feel a powerful sense of obligation to give my utmost in everything I do. I have of course not always succeeded, but I do feel keenly that calling to use all my gifts for the benefit of the church. What a gift the church has entrusted to all of us who have been ordained! I can only be thankful and try to offer my very best, knowing we represent Someone far greater than ourselves. Finally, I would like to say something about what ordination has meant to me in my own journey of faith. I began my work in the church while in seminary doing youth ministry. My first two years after seminary even before I was ordained were devoted to youth ministry. And then my first three years after ordination I did youth work. Then there were thirteen years of campus ministry at three different settings as well as serving as pastor in four congregations. My journey of faith has been deeply impacted by all those youth and college people I have had the privilege of serving. Those folks have always made me ask this question: \"What does faith in Christ look like in the eyes of the young?\" And that has helped my own faith immensely. Faith should be \"forever young\", forever exploring and forever open to challenge and growth. I hope to God that I never get bored with the Christian faith. There are always so many more avenues to explore, so many more challenges to grow into maturity in Christ, who loved us and gave himself for us. From the day I said, \"I do\" to ordination, the faith has never been \"old hat\". I suppose that is why I still love to teach college folks. They still challenge me to ask, \"What does the faith look like in the eyes of the young?\" So what has ordination meant to me? First, it has meant meeting God’s people, a marvelous group of sinners saved by grace, like myself, and sharing a wonderful life with them. Finding in those folks magnificent friends, friends here and now and far and wide. Second, ordination has meant a challenge to give of my best. Years ago Oswald Chambers wrote a lovely devotional book entitled \"My Utmost for His Highest\". I take seriously that high calling, to give my utmost for God’s highest-despite my imperfections and weaknesses. Third, ordination has given me the privilege of meeting many, many young people who have given me the opportunity to see the faith through their eyes. I look forward to seeing the faith through the eyes of our new confirmation class beginning today. And what I hope to discover through them is that our faith in Christ remains blessedly \"forever young\". I close with words from one of my favorite hymns, a hymn that all of us who have been ordained can sing from the heart. You know the words: \"O Jesus, I have promised to serve Thee to the end; Be Thou Forever near me, My Master and my friend; I shall not fear the battle, If Thou art by my side, Nor Wander from the pathway If Thou Wilt be my guide.\" Thanks be to God, who has called each of us to serve with \"energy, intelligence, imagination, and love\". To God be the glory alone. Amen. September 16, 2007 CELEBRATE WITH ME Luke 15:1-10 In Luke’s Gospel the lost are given special attention. Those who have lost their way. Those who have lost heart. Those who have lost standing in their community. In fact, Jesus has to defend himself repeatedly for his passionate interest in the lost. The purists, the Pharisees and scribes, criticize Jesus harshly for mingling with tax collectors and sinners. Under the old adage, “You will know a person by their choice of friends,” Jesus was indeed a friend of the lost. Luke tells us the tax collectors and sinners were all “drawing near” to Jesus. They knew who would be their friend. In response to his critics, Jesus tells three parables-the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son. This morning we will listen to the first two parables. One is about a moderately wealthy shepherd, and the other is about a very poor woman. Both lost something important to them-a single sheep and a single coin. Then both the man and the woman diligently seek out what is lost, because it matters to them. The shepherd has a moderately large herd for the time-one hundred sheep. One becomes lost in the wilderness-how, we do not know. So the shepherd herds the ninety-nine sheep into a sheepfold or a cave and goes looking for the lost sheep. He knows that an isolated sheep will become immobilized from fear and simply lie down to die. If someone does not find the sheep, its life is lost. The shepherd no doubt retraced his steps across the sparse wilderness where there is little food and even less water. Finally, miraculously, the shepherd finds the sheep. Delighted with his good fortune he walks back home with the sheep on his shoulders. He invites his friends to rejoice with him, “Celebrate with me, for I have found my sheep, which was lost.” Come and celebrate this good news-the lost has been found. In a similar fashion Jesus tells of a poor woman who has but ten coins, a modest amount of money indeed. But one coin is lost. Think of losing your billfold and the panic that stirs within you. Panicked she lights a lamp so she can see in her dark house. She sweeps every corner of her home trying to find the coin. And then joyfully she stumbles upon the lost coin. Delighted she invites her friends to rejoice with her, “Celebrate with me, for I have found the coin, which I have lost.” Come and celebrate this good news-the lost has been found. And then Jesus tells us that whenever the lost are found, there is great joy in heaven. Even the angels rejoice over one sinner who repents and returns to God. A kind of heavenly celebration ensues, even for a single child of God who was lost but is now found. A prodigal returns and there is celebration before the throne of God! That is Jesus’ response to his critics. But they simply don’t get it. They don’t understand that Jesus has come to seek and save the lost. The ninety-nine sheep and the nine coins are important to God, of course. But so are the lost, the individual sheep and the individual coin. In Matthew’s version of this parable, Jesus says, “So it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.” Jesus is all about saving people. Saving those who have lost their way. Those who have lost heart. Those who have lost their standing in the community. And when the lost are found, there should be utter delight. “Celebrate with me, for what was lost has been found!” That is Jesus’ attitude and it should be ours as well. The critics of Jesus simply cannot comprehend the heart of God who cares deeply about even one lost soul. In the eyes of God there are no expendable people. One lost sheep and one lost coin send their owners into diligent search and find missions. So one lost soul sends Christ out searching everywhere-diligently, patiently, and lovingly. No one is beyond the pale, no one is worth giving up, and no one is without value. When those miners were trapped in Utah, holes were drilled. Then other miners went in to search for them. Their lives were also lost in that abortive rescue mission. Sadly now it appears that all the miners have been lost, but the effort was made. And once again in the history of mining, the rescuers were buried with these words, “Greater love has no one than this that one lays down one’s life for another.” The effort was made because friends were trapped and their lives were at stake. We cannot forget that Jesus laid down his life to seek and save the lost. He gave himself for every lost sheep who ever strayed from the flock. He cares about those who have lost their way. He hurts for everyone who has lost heart. He loves even those who have lost their standing in the community. Even those young gang members whose names and faces may be posted on the Internet-they matter to the Christ who came to reclaim those who are lost, to heal those who are broken. The church of Jesus Christ must never turn our back on the lost and the vulnerable. The lost sheep and the lost coin inspire us to seek out diligently those who are hurting, those suffering from self-inflicted wounds. Ours is not to judge how the sheep wandered off. The father of the prodigal son does not ask for an explanation. They simply exclaim, “Celebrate with me, for my son who was dead is alive again, my son who was lost, is found.” Perhaps you understand your own life as a similar story. You know all too well what it is like to be lost. You know what it is like to lose your way, to lose heart, to lose your standing in the community. You know what it is to be a “loser” in this world. It is a very different experience than staying safely in the fold, with the ninety-nine. It is to feel judgment, scorn, and exclusion. It is a sense of loss that is deep and painful and oppressive. That is why the love of Christ means so much to you. You know what it is to be rescued from your own worst instincts, your own bad decisions, your own sense of shame. Christ has come to you in great mercy and tenderness and has placed you on his shoulders and carried you to safety. These are not just images and metaphors to you. They are deeply existential and spiritual realities. You have heard these astonishing words, “Celebrate with me for my beloved child has returned home.” You have been there and have tasted the tender mercy of Christ. And you can’t help but celebrate whenever one of God’s lost children finds their way back into the sheepfold. It has been my privilege to walk with many of you through some pretty difficult family issues. Many of you have raised children and known the heartache of parenting. Your children, your grandchildren, and children in your extended family have brought you times of great pain. Some of those hurts happened long ago and some are as recent as this weekend. You have seen young people who were lost, lost in a thousand different ways. And you have ached for them. No doubt shed some tears for them. No doubt felt anger and frustration with them. You know all too well of what I speak. Now, thankfully, many of you have raised children and grandchildren who never left the sheepfold. They were wonderful members of the ninety-nine who stayed home and brought you great happiness. That, I suppose, makes you a blessed resident of Lake Wobegon, where all the children are way above average. And for all those children who bring their families mostly joy and fun, we can only give thanks. But for many of us, we can only imagine what Lake Wobegon is like. I want to thank many of you who have been so kind to my family and me these last months. We have made no secret of our own struggles with our oldest son Tucker. He has now dropped out of CNM, our community college. He is looking for a job. He may be moving out of our house yet again. We are not sure. And of course he has been nowhere near church for a long time. It has been difficult. Difficult in a thousand different ways. But mainly in the sense that Tucker-bless him-seems lost. He is unclear about his future. He is not sure what he wants to do or what he wants from life. This is not too unusual for an 18-year-old male in our society, of that I am sure. I saw that up close and personal many times over while serving as a campus minister. But I must admit it is one thing to help other confused young college students. It is quite another when it is your own flesh and blood. But then I remember where I was when I was Tucker’s age. Just as unsure. Just as uncertain. Going to college, yes, but just as lost. Lost in that fundamental sense of not knowing what I wanted from life or where I was going. Of course, my generation’s excuse is that it was the 60’s so we must have been granted a divine right to be confused. Perhaps Tucker’s excuse is that he is a preacher’s kid-surely a good reason to be confused! But I think many young males in their late teens-regardless of their generation-find that time in their lives to be alienating and difficult. It was for me and now I see that it is for Tucker. And I know it is for many young people that you love, family members you are concerned about. That’s why I lean on the words of Jesus. Those who are lost are especially close to the heart of Jesus. The lost sheep. The lost coin. The lost son. Those who have lost their way. Those who have lost heart. Those who have lost their standing in the community. Those are the very ones Jesus searches for with all his heart. He will not let them go. He will scour the wilderness to return them. He will sweep the house clean to find them. And so we bring to the loving arms of Jesus every child who is lost. Into your hands, loving Savior, we place all those we are worried about. In your tender mercy, seek them out. O Good Shepherd, gather up the lost sheep on your shoulders and bring them home. So that in your loving providence we can hear your invitation, “Celebrate with me for the one who was lost is now found.” May it be so. Amen.
September 23, 2007 AN EXAMPLE OF SORTS Luke 16:1-15 In Homer’s great epics the Iliad and the Odyssey we meet the resourceful hero Odysseus. A veteran of the Trojan War, Odysseus is a master of deception. Such cunning worked well for him whenever he was in dire straits. So many times he escapes certain death by the skin of his teeth and the cleverness of his mind. You remember how he returns after twenty years of absence to his native land of Ithaca. Things are not good at home. His wife Penelope and their son Telemachus are being abused by suitors who wish to take Penelope as a wife. Assuming Odysseus is dead they are greedy for his wealth and power. Into this difficult circumstance, Odysseus returns unbeknownst to anyone. Except for the goddess Athena. She appears to him in disguise and asks Odysseus who he is. Our hero cooks up a big whopper describing himself as a traveler from Crete who was transported to Ithaca by traders. Athena, the goddess, smiles at his deceit and says, “Excellent lie!” Then Athena reveals her true identity to Odysseus and promises to help him. Athena disguises him as a poor beggar. She warns him that he must be savvy and crafty if he is to win back his standing in his community. Needless to say, Odysseus takes her advice and then some. Odysseus uses his disguise as a poor beggar and his cunning to finally throw out the suitors and regain his wife Penelope. This ancient epic lifts up the virtue of cleverness, even deceit in dire straits. Odysseus makes for himself a future by means of his cunning. Yes, the goddess Athena did help Odysseus. In their plotting we almost expect her to say something like, “Be as wise as a serpent.” But that line belongs to Jesus. He once told his disciples to be as “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Innocent as a dove Odysseus is not. And neither is the Unjust Steward, the property manager in our parable. He is every bit as cunning as Odysseus. And at the end of the parable the Unjust Steward is commended, because he acted shrewdly. It would be rather odd if the rich man, the owner of the property, commended the steward for defrauding him. Instead we should understand that it is the master Jesus who commends the cunning of this dishonest manager. In that sense, both Jesus and the goddess Athena commended human ingenuity and resourcefulness, especially in a crisis situation. So exactly what did this Odysseus like character do in our parable? It appears the unjust steward was defrauding the owner of the property. Skimming money off the top, hiding the profits, cooking the books-the possibilities for embezzlement are endless. The text simply says that this property manager was “squandering his property.” Word gets back to the owner and he demands an audit of the books, an accounting of his management. Now in our time security would come and escort the manager to the door. And then the law might arrest him or the lawyers might sue him. But this parable is not about our time. In Jesus’ parable the disgraced manager knows the jig is up and he is soon to be out of a job. And he realizes he is not strong enough to work in the fields and he is too proud to beg. Yet he faces this crisis with remarkable cunning. He decides to use his last day on the job to make the best out of a bad situation. He uses his position as the manager of the estate to secure his future. He decides to ingratiate himself to all those who owe money to the property owner. He cuts a deal with each of these sharecroppers. To each of them he offers a large discount on what they actually owed the owner. Instead of one hundred jugs of olive oil, the amount owed became just fifty jugs. Instead of one hundred containers of wheat, the bill became just eighty containers. And cleverly the property manager makes each of the debtors write out their bill in their own handwriting-thus making the fraud seem more legitimate. It is always good to cover your tracks when people follow the paper trail. And, to top it all off, it could be that the discount given to the sharecroppers was simply the property manager’s commission on the loan. The Law of Moses formally prohibited interest on loans. However, it was customary for the property manager to be given a commission, a fee, for doing business. And so in his arrangement with the debtors the property manager surrendered what he would have made on the commission. And that meant the owner was paid in full what was owed to him by the sharecroppers. And the debtors were very happy not to have to pay the commission to the property manager. And maybe, just maybe, when the property manager loses his job, the sharecroppers would welcome him into their homes. In fact, Jesus notes in verse 9 that shrewd folks make friends for themselves by dishonest wealth. This ex-property manager has thus secured his future and everybody gets something. The sharecroppers pay back what they owe without having to pay a commission on top. The owner gets back what was owed him-well, not everything since he has been previously defrauded. And the former property manager hopes to find this old saying to be true, “I scratch your back and you scratch mine.” And what is the point of this parable? Hear what John Calvin said: “Christ simply meant that the children of this world are more diligent in their concern for their own fleeting interests than the sons of light for their eternal well-being.” The unjust steward is clearly a child of this world, a streetwise operator. He steals from his master and then when discovered, uses the money owed to his master to secure his own future. He is a wheeler, dealer, concerned only for himself. A true child of this age. And Jesus draws a contrast between this street-smart manipulator with the children of light. All too often the children of light, the followers of Jesus, are slow witted and unaware of the crisis looming before them. The famed British pastor Leslie Weatherhead said that Christians should “learn from the shrewd, resourceful way in which the children of this age do their business.” In other words, there is much to be learned from studying the ways of the smart money. They do not throw good money after bad. Resourcefulness. Courage. A willingness to take a risk and act. I don’t think the point of this parable is to turn us all into used car salesmen who will say anything to make a deal. The idea is not to commend deceit and dishonesty. Far too many readers and commentators on this parable have missed the point here. The idea is to commend the alertness of the children of this age who know when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, and when to run away! In fact, it was Reinhold Niebuhr who wrote an entire book urging the children of light to learn from the children of this age. The point is not to become a shark and a deceiver. The point is for us to become as “wise as serpents” without forgetting to be as “innocent as doves.” It is no sin to use your God given intelligence. In truth, it is a shame not to. In that sense, the shrewd property manager is an example of sorts for all of us. I wish the congregation could have seen a video of our last Session meeting Tuesday evening. I wish you could have seen your elders at work dealing with some challenging issues. For instance, a firm from New York City made an offer to buy our cell phone tower for a large lump sum. Our Session took the issue seriously, researched it, and discussed it. The decision was made to turn down the offer. “Wise as serpents”. The Session dealt with an issue near and dear to all our hearts-the lack of cool air coming from our air conditioner in this sanctuary. The Warranty Committee, bless them for their long years of work, has identified the problem. Now we are zeroing in on who will foot the $22,000 bill for correcting it. Let me assure you it will not be St. Andrew. “Wise as serpents”. And then we began dealing with our 2008 budget and the financial challenges we face as a congregation. One can only hope we will be “wise as serpents”. And more importantly, that we as a congregation will be generous and bold. Sometimes it is more than savvy that we need. Sometimes we simply need more faith, more trust in a God who has promised to provide. Next weekend the Presbytery of Santa Fe and the Presbytery of Sierra Blanca in the southern part of the state will meet together in Las Cruces. Together we will have to decide if we will join forces and end up with one Executive Presbyter for the entire state. Declining funds from the denomination has forced this decision upon us. I hope you will join in prayer that our decision will be wise. It is a most crucial decision for all Presbyterians in the Land of Enchantment. When I think of Jesus telling this parable, I marvel. No doubt, he knew it might be misunderstood. Perhaps someone told Jesus about this unjust steward with a sense of outrage. Perhaps they expected Jesus to share that outrage. Instead, he turns the story on its head. If I could paraphrase his point, it might be this: “We see all these shrewd dealers in this world, like Herod, that old fox. My question is this: why can’t we, the children of light, be just as shrewd, just as savvy, just as decisive? Especially in times of crisis. We need that kind of courage and resourcefulness. We need to rid ourselves of fear and timidity and use our heads. Just like that property manager caught in a crack. O to have more of that quality among us!”
Friends in Christ, may God grant to us a resourcefulness and decisiveness in times of crisis. May God grant to us courage and shrewdness as we face our challenges. Jesus saw a scoundrel act with cunning and commended him. May Jesus see us, the children of light, act with “energy, intelligence, imagination, and love”. That is our challenge. May God be with us. Amen.
Back To the Top August 2007 August 5, 2007 THE INHERITANCE Luke 12:13-21
Only Luke tells describes this amazing moment in Jesus’ ministry. It was a brief encounter between Jesus and a man who has a beef. From out of nowhere in the crowd a man pushes forward and lays before Jesus his grievance. He wants his brother to divide the family inheritance with him. Now was this another younger brother who wants to get what he can and high tail it to a far country? Later Jesus will tell a rather famous parable about a prodigal son who got his share of the inheritance and wasted it on “riotous living.” Or was this a brother who felt that the inheritance laws in the Book of Moses were unfair? Later Rabbis would interpret the Law to mean that the oldest brother received double the inheritance of the younger brothers-not to mention the sisters. Perhaps this is one of those younger brothers calling into question the bias of the Mosaic Code toward the older brother. As a younger brother myself, I certainly would be inclined to file a “friend of the court” brief on behalf of this complainant. There are all kinds of complaints about inheritance laws that some might bring to Jesus even to this day. Or what is sometimes called the “death tax”. Were Jesus to walk down any main street today, it wouldn’t surprise me if someone in the crowd voiced their complaint to him about inheritance taxes. Death and taxes-still a troublesome and controversial issue! Indeed, the whole matter of inheritance is probably one of the most sensitive and delicate issues that many families face, as some of you know all too well. I am reminded of the Presbyterian Church in Goliad, Texas, where I served as pulpit supply for two years in the late 70’s. In this small town not so far from San Antonio there were two women who did exactly the same thing every Sunday morning. One arrived some twenty minutes early and sat on the front left pew in the sanctuary. The other showed up precisely at the ringing of the church bell at 11am and took her place on the back right pew. When worship was over, the woman on the back pew darted out the back. The woman on the front pew lingered and was one of the last to leave. After being there awhile I asked one of the matriarchs about this situation. She told me the whole story. It turns out these two women had married brothers, wealthy brothers, “oil men,” as they say. They lived within a mile of each other on the large family ranch. Close family, good friends, business partners. Then the two brothers died unexpectedly within several months of each other. When their wills were read, both of the widows felt they got the short end of the stick. A nasty fight erupted with various family members taking sides. A lot of money was at stake. Oil money. Royalties. Drilling rights. Cattle. Land. You get the picture. The inevitable lawsuit. The judge settled the matter by dividing the estate. But the bitterness would not settle. And so these two women, widows, members in good standing of the Goliad Presbyterian Church, showed up every Sunday morning. They worshipped the God who gave them life. They worshipped the God who calls us into community. And they never spoke to each other again. All because of the inheritance. Maybe that’s why Jesus refused to get involved in this inheritance dispute. Even though Rabbis had traditionally adjudicated such matters. And even though Paul will later urge the Corinthian congregation to set up, if you will, a Permanent Judicial Commission to adjudicate disputes between church members. Read all about it in I Corinthians 6. But Jesus refuses to decide this dispute. Why? Because he sees a deeper issue in this complaint. It is the issue of greed. For Jesus, no, greed is not good. It can be deadly. It divides families and hardens hearts and turns us against the God who gave us all things freely. To illustrate his point, Jesus tells a parable about a rich farmer whose fields yield a bumper crop. So great is the harvest that he decides to tear down his old barns and build bigger ones. With such a huge warehouse, he would have more than enough to “relax, eat, drink and be merry.” Sort of like winning the lottery. Or, better yet, like getting a huge farm subsidy from the government. But his grand plan does not pan out. For God announces to him these somber words, “You fool! This very night your life is demanded of you.” On a week when a major bridge in Minneapolis collapses, we are all too aware that people’s lives are sometimes cut short without warning. And so the rich farmer finds that his life comes to an unexpected end. And God asks this question I suppose for us to answer, “And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Who gets all the cash from the bigger and better barns? Not the rich farmer. With that much money at stake, you can almost assume there will be an inheritance fight-the rich farmer’s family clawing and scratching for all those goods laid up in store. And this is Jesus’ point: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.” Or this: “One’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Jesus sees greed as a poisonous toxin that can destroy us, a mentality can kill our spirits and set us against others and God. I am not talking about the need for us to support ourselves and the ones we love. I am talking about the greed and avarice that wants more and more, ever more. Bigger and larger barns, only for ourselves. The rich farmer wanted to live a life of sheer leisure without regard for anyone else. That is the problem. That is the spiritual illness that prompts this parable of the rich fool. The other side of this story is found in the book of Ruth. You remember that when the impoverished Naomi returns to her hometown of Bethlehem, she brings her daughter in law Ruth. Naomi tells Ruth about Boaz, her wealthy kinsman who has many fields. Boaz obeys the Law of Moses that requires farmers to leave part of the field for gleaners to come and find food. And so Ruth does indeed take ears of grain from the field of Boaz. Boaz will eventually make sure that Ruth and Naomi had more than enough to supply their needs. Here a rich man shares what he has. Thankfully, there are wonderful people with plenty who share what they have with those who have little. In gratitude for such folks, I’d like to re-write the parable of the rich fool, to give it a happy ending. The rich farmer saw his bumper crop and built a food pantry for those in greatest need in the community. He invited folks to come in to glean his fields. And he allowed the poor to plant community gardens in his fields to raise their own food. And his generosity became so well known that it inspired all his wealthy friends to go and do likewise. And so the hungry were fed and God’s name was praised. This past week Doris Johnson told me a story that is not so different from the imaginary story I just told you. Near the rural town of Greybull, Wyoming, her family had a small farm. Her father had grown up in North Carolina and had seen how people shared with each other. And so during the Depression Doris’ father planted two gardens on his farm. One was for the family’s use. The other was for the poor. They even put an ad in the paper when certain of the vegetables were ripe for the picking. They invited the needy to their farm to get what they needed from this second garden. Now this was not a rich family. They simply shared what they had. We need not be rich to share what we have. But if we are rich in this world’s goods, the God who gave us all things lays upon our heart a special obligation. This is an obligation for all of us to be generous, to give as we have received. There will always be poor women like Ruth who need to glean in our fields. The poor we will have with us always. So this is my prayer: Gracious God, give us hearts to care and hearts to share. At this Table we receive afresh the imperishable inheritance of God’s unconditional love. May we share this rich inheritance freely with a needy of this world. May it be so. Amen. August 19, 2007 JESUS THE CONTROVERSIALIST Luke 12: 49-56
I have been amazed at how so called “reality shows” have come to dominate television. Why have these shows become so popular? I suspect there are two reasons. One is economic. These shows seem rather inexpensive to produce. The second reason is that “real people” are depicted as going through “real adventures”. We can easily imagine ourselves appearing in these so called “reality shows”. Some of these real people have gone through tough times and so a new home is built for them. That’s “Extreme Makeover-Home Edition,” my favorite show of this genre by far. Some folks compete for recognition as the best singer or the best dancer or the best mind or the best chef or the best designer or the best model or the best comic. All these shows seem to be spin-offs of “American Idol”. Some folks become contestants in games of chance like “Deal or No Deal”. Then there are those unsuspecting people caught on tape doing funny things-mainly falling on a banana peel or some version thereof. “America’s Funniest Videos” comes to mind. Then there are the reality shows where people are put in stressful situations. Like “Survivor” where people are placed in a remote setting and some are voted off the island if they don’t match up. Their every move is recorded on tape and we root for our favorite contestant to win. Now I have a confession to make. These reality shows are far different from the reality that I experience. Seldom do guys holding cameras, lights, and sound equipment follow me around. That is simply not part of my reality. Is it part of yours? If it were, how would you do if your every waking moment were taped and recorded? I wonder. In other words, what if your life resembled “The Truman Show”, where cameras and microphones chronicle your every word and deed? In some ways, I think the Gospels are an ancient version of reality shows. They show real people in unguarded moments in the presence of Jesus. Sometimes folks are blessed with a new life like those in “Extreme Makeover”. Sometimes folks try to compete with Jesus as though they were on “American Idol” or “Deal or No Deal”. Often Jesus wins the contest, but not always. Pilate stops the show with his “no deal” and Jesus is taken away empty handed. Sometimes people are exposed as ludicrous as in “America’s Funniest Videos”. This is especially true of Jesus’ disciples who come off like Keystone Cops. Some of Jesus’ disciples find themselves in extremely stressful situations as in “Survivor”. Typically they fail miserably as they did on the night on which Jesus was betrayed. The reality is this. Jesus finds himself constantly confronted with conflict and opposition and misunderstandings. That was the burden of his life. In truth, Jesus seems to create controversy by his mere presence. In our reading from Luke Jesus reflects upon the reality of his life. He announces that he has come to cast fire upon the earth. His will be a baptism of fire. His presence sparks a firestorm of controversy. He will not bring peace, the calm and quiet of the status quo. Rather he will bring division even within families and households. In truth, that conflict emerged in Jesus’ own family. Initially his family members thought he was out of his mind and even they opposed his ministry. Jesus stirs the pot. Things are called into question whenever this rabbi appears. I am reminded of what Jesus says in the Gospel of Thomas, “Whoever is near to me is near to the fire.” Jesus brings fire upon the earth-the fire of cleansing and judgment and renewal. But many don’t get it and many oppose him. They resist the change he calls for. They find him frightening and so do we. So this is the reality Jesus faced. The Gospel of John describes it eloquently, “He came to his own and his own received him not.” His own family figured he was out of his mind. His earliest and closest followers constantly misunderstood him. The religious leaders often thwarted him, accusing him of all manner of evil. And finally the political authorities found him to be a threat and did away with him. He was a man of sorrows, acquainted with the grief of rejection. It occurs to me that Jesus will forever be controversial. Jesus is controversial still among his followers. Jesus comes among the splintered Christian community and poses this question, “Why have you split my church into a thousand pieces?” Jesus still pushes us to seek the unity, which we have as a gift in his Spirit. Jesus is still controversial because he will not abide our divisions and schisms. It is still a scandal to him and to the world and it should be for us as well. Jesus is controversial still among the world religions-especially the Abrahamic faith traditions. He stands between us and our Jewish brothers and sisters. He stands between us and our Muslim brothers and sisters. Jesus is seen very differently within the monotheistic faith tradition that goes back to Abraham. Jesus continues to intrude into our conversations with Jewish and Muslim friends about the God of Abraham. He cannot be overlooked. He is an imposing presence, still asking that embarrassing question, “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus is controversial still among the political authorities of our time. He stands over against their obsession with war and power and proclaims himself the Prince of Peace. He stands over against their easy acceptance of the status quo and proclaims that he did not come to bring peace. He demands justice and mercy, as did the prophets. And he insists that the least of our brothers and sisters must be treated with the utmost care. And so Jesus seems like a threat to the authorities. To every ruler who cynically asks, “What is truth?” Jesus answers, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the life.” My hope is that Jesus will always be controversial. May we never domesticate him or make him benign-a mere calming bromide. May Jesus always be controversial among his followers. Why? Because he never lets us off the hook. He never lets us settle for anything less than our best. May he always be controversial among the religions of the Abrahamic tradition. Why? Because he challenges us to examine closely our common ties to Abraham, to find our common faith in the God of Abraham. And may he always be controversial among the political leaders of our time. Why? Because he insists upon peace and justice and mercy and truth. Especially the search for the truth, which demands so much from those who rule over us. And this is my fondest hope. That individually and collectively we at St. Andrew always find Jesus controversial. Jesus comes among us to unsettle us. When we are lazy or indifferent, Jesus challenges us. When we seek an easy peace, Jesus brings a fire. In our personal lives, may we always be restless until we find rest in Christ. That, it seems to me, is the special grace of the risen Christ. He will not let us alone. He comes to us relentlessly and demands our allegiance, our hearts. And always he comes with grace and mercy, always extending his love to us unconditionally. So this is my prayer for you and for me: “O Christ who will not let us go, cast your fire upon the earth. Baptize us afresh in the fire of your Spirit. Unsettle us with your peace that is no easy peace. Disturb us with your grace that is no cheap grace. Startle us awake with your imposing presence in our lives. Help us to acknowledge you again as Lord and Savior. Never, never let us grow complacent. Help us to grow ever more deeply into your love. Hear our prayer and transform us by your demanding grace. Let it be. Let it be.” August 26, 2007 FREED FROM YOUR INFIRMITY Luke 13:10-17
When I was in elementary school in the 1950’s, Oral Roberts came to my hometown of Tyler, Texas. He rented an old coliseum sometimes used as a professional wrestling venue for a revival and healing service. Back then Oral Roberts did not have a university in Tulsa or a television show. He was a traveling evangelist and healer and quite the celebrity across the Bible Belt. An advertising blitz on the radio invited all those with infirmities to come and be healed. Well, the Oral Roberts buzz caused quite a stir in my little town. Indeed, people from all over East Texas flocked to the old coliseum to be healed by this famous preacher. Several of my classmates went and reported how Oral Roberts laid his hands on all kinds of people-even those with polio. Some dramatically took off their braces and walked off stage under their own power. Now that was really big news especially in those years right after Dr. Jonas Salk had introduced his polio vaccine. I never saw Oral Roberts in person, but I remember vividly the controversy his healing service generated at my school. There was a small but vocal pro-Oral Roberts faction who considered him a healer sent by God. They were pitted against the majority, the anti-Oral Roberts faction, who considered him a charlatan. Now this was pretty heady stuff for a young boy in grade school in the 50’s. I suspect that Jesus generated just as much controversy when he came to the small towns of Israel. People lined up either for or against this traveling preacher and healer from Nazareth. Some questioned his power to heal. Some even charged that he was in league with Satan to do such wonders. Others may have thought of him as Asklepios, the Greek God of healing. Some may have considered him like those Egyptian magicians who replicated Moses’ first three miracles performed in the presence of Pharaoh. Read all about these dueling miracles in Exodus 7 and 8. Many observers of Jesus must have concluded that the miraculous does not necessarily guarantee that someone is truly sent by God. So when Jesus goes to a synagogue on the Sabbath, there must have been quite a buzz. Luke tells us that Jesus was teaching when he observed a woman bent over. Perhaps she suffered from curvature of the spine, that is, scoliosis. It turns out this debilitating condition had afflicted this daughter of Israel for eighteen years. Surely Jesus felt compassion for her. So he calls out to her, “Woman, you are freed from your infirmity.” And he lays his hands upon her and immediately her back is healed. Then she stands up straight for the first time in eighteen long years. What a marvel! What a moment! Now people who have endured such a condition can only imagine how wonderful that would feel. My own father, now ninety-one years old, is bent over with a curved spine. I can only imagine how delighted and thrilled he would be to stand erect again. Indeed this healed woman, freed from her infirmity, does what you would expect. She rejoiced and praised God. I suspect she was leaping for joy, standing up straight in the presence of Jesus, who gave her new life. But all was not well in the synagogue. The leader of the synagogue becomes indignant that Jesus healed on the Sabbath. He considered that miracle to be the kind of work which is forbidden on the Sabbath. The four Gospels report that Jesus performed seven healing miracles on the Sabbath. Those healed suffered from various infirmities: a withered hand, an unclean spirit, fever, dropsy, paralysis, blindness, plus the woman’s curvature of the spine in our text. The issue for the leader of the synagogue is working on the Sabbath. He rebukes Jesus with words that reflect the Fourth Commandment: “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, but not on the Sabbath day.” He was not opposed to healing, just healing on the Sabbath. I remember driving around West Jerusalem with an Arab Christian one Saturday in 1994. He pointed out to us entire neighborhoods that were blocked off by orthodox Jews. These deeply religious folks felt that driving a car was a violation of the Sabbath. Our driver told us that driving a car on the Sabbath in those neighborhoods put your life at risk. This is still a very serious matter to Orthodox Jews in Jerusalem. The issue of doing work on the Sabbath was a very serious issue to the early church. Should they abide by the Sabbath regulations or were they freed from such injunctions? Surely the stories of Jesus healing on the Sabbath were intended to remind the early church that such restrictions did not apply to them. Especially since, as Jesus reminded his hearers, the Mosaic Law itself allows people to untie farm animals on the Sabbath to lead them to water. That is, work was permissible when life was at risk. Jesus insists that his work gave life to a woman in need and so it was permissible. In an earlier controversy Jesus had made the claim that the Sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the Sabbath. In other words, the Sabbath should be life affirming, not simply a legalistic requirement. The most amazing thing about this story is that Jesus heals this needy woman. The second most amazing thing is this-Jesus’ adversaries are put to shame. Maybe they were ashamed of themselves for being so narrow minded, so legalistic. Finally, Luke tells us, all the people in the synagogue rejoice at what happened to this woman. So a woman is healed in the synagogue on the Sabbath. She comes to worship God and her life is fundamentally changed. Isn’t that what we all hope for when we come to worship? That our lives will be fundamentally changed? In fact, we pray for healing every Sunday morning in this place of worship. Healing of every kind of infirmity for those we know and those we don’t know. Over the years some of the suffering folk we have prayed for have indeed been healed-by the grace of God. And others, sadly, have not. Some infirmities and conditions have lingered on for years-not unlike Paul’s thorn in the flesh. And not unlike that cup which Jesus prayed would be removed from him. As we know, that cup was not removed from him. Sometimes we are bent over for eighteen years. Sometimes in the providence of God we are healed. Surely all of us wish to be healed of our infirmities. All of us want to be whole in body and mind and spirit. But we are sometimes reluctant to pray for healing, as though such a prayer may seem an imposition upon God. Sometimes we have theological reservations about the whole idea of God healing a particular person. I am reminded of those heady theological debates I heard in elementary school about Oral Roberts. When I was in Austin during the 1980’s, my dear friend Richard Baker was a doctoral student in philosophy and a member of University Presbyterian Church. One Sunday Richard was asked to lead a church school class for which he was woefully unprepared. This was quite unlike Richard who was an excellent teacher even then. And who showed up for class that Sunday but Dr. Alan Lewis, a brilliant professor of theology at Austin Seminary. Richard was in fact taking a class from Dr. Lewis. So Richard was really in a bind-unprepared and facing his theology teacher! Now Dr. Lewis had been stricken with cancer. Already one cancerous lung had been removed, but he was bravely struggling on despite his weakened condition. Richard began the class by bringing up the issue of intercessory prayer. Dr. Lewis raised his hand and said to the entire class: “You know, Richard, I never pray for God to cure my cancer. I pray that God will give me strength to endure it, and I pray that God will give that same strength to my wife and family. But I never pray for physical healing. God’s will is God’s will.” As Dr. Lewis was speaking, Richard thought to himself, “This is beautiful, this is profound, this is important-and I have absolutely nothing to say in response.” Thankfully for Richard, a moment of appreciative silence followed Dr. Lewis’ remarks. Then a voice rang out from the other side of the classroom: “You’re just wrong about that, Alan, just wrong!” It was Jane Spragens, a beloved pillar of the church. She had taught at the University of Texas and was the widow of a seminary professor. After people got over their shock, Jane explained what she meant: “If God can affect you spiritually, I sure don’t see why God can’t affect you physically as well. And, Alan, I want you to know that although you may not be praying for God to cure your cancer, I sure am. And I know a lot of other folks here are praying for you also.” It was one of those amazing moments in Christian Education where people of great faith and intelligence express deeply divergent views. Now here’s the rest of the story. Jane Spragens and many others who loved Dr. Lewis prayed for him faithfully, even to the very day he died. And people continued to pray for the Lewis family long after Alan was gone. And the Lewis family was helped and encouraged by a wonderful seminary and church community. Friends in Christ, amazing things happen when people gather to worship the living God. A woman bent over for eighteen years encounters Jesus and she walks away in many respects a different person. Some are upset but most rejoice. Others come to worship and end up in a classroom where strongly held convictions about God are expressed. And through it all, we continue to pray for each other. Now I admired and loved Alan Lewis, one of the best theologians I have ever heard. Nevertheless, I think Jane Spragens was right. If God affects us spiritually, certainly God can affect us physically. Surely God is the God of healing, the one who cares about our infirmities. And by the grace of God, the sheer grace of God, we are at times healed of our infirmities and our diseases. And for that, we can only thank God. It happened long ago. It still happens. And it will happen yet again. People are indeed freed of their infirmities. All by the grace of God. That’s the wonder of it all. The sheer wondrous mystery. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Back To the Top July 2007 July 8,2007 BEARING BURDENS Galatians 6:1 6
Channel surfing the other night I came across an old Jack Lemmon movie. Two of his movies I am especially fond of. The first is that 1962 classic \"The Days of Wine and Roses,\" a bittersweet movie in which Lemmon played a PR man who becomes an alcoholic. Lemmon\'s character drags his wife played by Lee Remick into his alcohol drenched world. When the PR man becomes disgusted with his addictive lifestyle, he finally breaks free from alcohol’s grip. Meanwhile his wife becomes hooked and she cannot break the hold of alcohol on her life. He tries repeatedly to get her to stop drinking, but she does not. Ultimately, Lemmon\'s character walks away from his wife because he knows he will drown in alcohol if he stays with her. This movie reminds us of what Paul says in Galatians 6:5: \"For all must carry their own loads.\" We must bear our own burden and sometimes we do not have the strength to carry another\'s load. Especially when the other people cannot or will not carry their own load. Jack Lemmon could not coax Lee Remick into sobriety. He had to cross that bridge by himself, and he could not carry her across if she would not come. Sometimes we have to bear our own burdens. Clearly \"The Days of Wine and Roses\" illustrates that that we must all bear personal responsibility for our own lives. A second Jack Lemmon movie is more recent. Produced as a made for t.v. movie by Oprah Winfrey, it was entitled, \"Tuesdays with Morrie\". It is a fine movie and a fine book, and I commend both to you. It is a story that illustrates what Paul means when he says, \"Bear one another\'s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.\" It speaks eloquently of our need for each other and how none of us can ultimately go it alone. The book was written by Mitch Albom and published in 1997. It is the story of Mitch\'s relationship with Dr. Morrie Schwartz, who graduated with a Ph.D. in sociology from the University of Chicago. For many years he was a very popular professor at Brandeis University in Massachusetts. Morrie lived in the Boston suburb of West Newton with his wife Charlotte to whom he was married for 46 years. They had two sons Rob a journalist and Jon a computer expert. This seemingly ageless dynamo loved to swim and walk and dance and eat and teach and talk with his friends and students. Did he ever love to talk! But in the summer of 1994 the old professor, the picture of health and vitality, was diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig\'s disease. The book and movie chronicle Morrie\'s last months. Mitch Albom was one of Morrie\'s favorite students. Mitch had taken many sociology courses from Morrie, a teacher he found utterly engaging in class. They had developed a custom of meeting and talking at length on Tuesdays. Morrie was Mitch\'s favorite professor, by far. By the time Mitch graduated in 1979 they considered each other friends. Mitch promised to keep in touch. But alas. Mitch would, as he said, \"get busy\" with his life. He wanted to become a professional pianist but his music career went nowhere. He would nurse his favorite uncle during the final stages of his struggle with cancer. After that trying experience Mitch returned to school and received a masters degree in Journalism. He would be hired by the Detroit Free Press and eventually became a nationally known sports writer and commentator on radio and television. After a seven year courtship he would marry Janine. And along the way his old idealism would fade. Chasing sports celebrities and their big bucks caused him to lust after their money and their fame. Even though he had \"made it\", as they say, Mitch was forced to ask himself, \"What happened to me?\" And his answer was \"the eighties happened and the nineties happened and I had traded all my dreams for a bigger paycheck.\" In short, Mitch Albom had become a self absorbed yuppie on the fast track. But in March of 1995 when Mitch was on the road covering yet another sports story, he was surfing the tube in his hotel room and happened upon Ted Koppel\'s Nightline program. And who were they interviewing? None other than Morrie Schwartz, his old professor! A Nightline producer had seen Morrie\'s aphorisms that had been published in the Boston Globe and Koppel was intrigued. Mitch sat stunned in his hotel room and watched his old professor, whom he had not seen in 16 years. Mitch learned to his horror that Morrie was dying of Lou Gehrig\'s disease. It was then and there that he decided to keep his promise ever so belatedly to \"keep in touch.\" And so he took the first of many 700 mile airline trips to see his beloved professor. Little did Mitch know that this reunion and their subsequent meetings would profoundly change his life. And wouldn\'t you know it that their many meetings almost always happened on Tuesdays, just like in the old days. Serendipitously, there was a newspaper strike at the Detroit Free Press and so Mitch had ample time to come see his old friend on the East Coast. When the two got together in Morrie\'s home, Mitch was astonished at the attitude his old professor had developed. With the diagnosis Morrie faced this question: \"Do I wither up and disappear or do I make the best of my time left?\" And Morrie had resolved to let others study the last months of his life to see what they could learn for themselves about life and death. Morrie would say, \"I\'m on the last great journey and people want me to tell them what to pack.\" So Morrie refused to indulge in self pity. Morrie said, \"I give myself a good cry in the morning if I need it but then I concentrate on all the good things still in my life. On the people who are coming to see me. On the stories I am going to hear.\" Now Morrie would never say what Lou Gehrig did, \"Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the earth.\" But he did say, \"It is when we learn to die that we really learn how to live.\" When Morrie and Mitch saw each other again, their college conversions resumed as though they had been on a long vacation. During their first visit Morrie asked Mitch, \"Have you found someone to share your heart with? Are you giving to your community? Are you at peace with yourself? Are you trying to be as human as you can be?\" Mitch found these questions hard to answer. So he asked Morrie some questions, some last will and testament kind of questions. Mitch said, \"Then tell me about death, fear, aging, greed, marriage, family, society, forgiveness, and a meaningful life.\" And like a good journalist, Mitch tape recorded Morrie\'s answers. About the meaning of life, this is what Morrie said, \"Devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.” Which is exactly what Morrie had done with his life. He had started Project Greenhouse in Boston where poor people could receive mental health services. He had taught his Brandeis students that meaning is to be found in giving to others. And he taught them that love always wins, that love is the only rational act, and that love means you are as concerned about someone else\'s situation as you are about your own. Morrie\'s favorite quote was from the poet W.H. Auden who wrote, \"Love each other or perish.\" And Morrie took that to mean that without love \"we are birds with broken wings.\" It was Morrie\'s commitment to love that made him so attentive to people. Listen to Mitch\'s description of his old professor: \"When Morrie was with you, he was really with you. He looked straight in your eyes and he listened as if you were the only person in the world.\" Morrie always said, \"I believe in being fully present.\" And as a result people flocked to him in droves even when he was sick-not because of the attention they wanted to pay to him but because of the attention he paid to them. As Mitch said, \"When I was with Morrie, I liked myself better.\"\' Near the end of his life Morrie hosted a \"living funeral\" where all his friends said out loud and to his face the things they might have said in a eulogy. Again and again they told Morrie how much his attentiveness had meant to them and how important he made them feel. And it was Morrie that reminded everyone, \"Death ends a life but it does not end a relationship.\"\' He promised to be attentive to his friends even in death. He told Mitch, \"After I am dead, come to my grave. You talk. And I will listen.\" It was Morrie\'s commitment to love that made him insist on the importance of forgiveness. Morrie would say, \"Forgive yourself before you die. Forgive yourself for all the things you didn\'t do. Then forgive others. And don\'t wait. I mourn my dwindling time, but I cherish the chance it gives me to make things right.\" Morrie had some regrets such as the vanity and pride that caused him to break off a long and lovely friendship because of a slight. The friend died of cancer before they had the opportunity to be reconciled. Morrie cried when he remembered his friend: \"I never got to see him. I never got to forgive. It pains me even now so much.\"\' Now Morrie was not formally religious though he had grown up in the synagogue. His first religious experience was going to the synagogue to pray for his mother who had died when he was quite young. Issues of faith were always important to him. Morrie was essentially a cultural Jew with deep spiritual yearnings. When Mitch asked Morrie what he thought about the book of Job, Morrie replied, \"I think God overdid it.\" Once Morrie admitted to Mitch that he had been bargaining with God about the afterlife. He asked God, \"Do I get to be one of the angels?\"\' It was one of the few times he admitted talking directly to God. The old professor also drew upon the world religions. He liked the Buddhist view that there is a little bird on your shoulder that you are to ask, \"Is today the day? Am I ready to die? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?\" Perhaps Morrie Schwartz sounds the most Christian when he talked about our need to bear one another\'s burdens. In the second Nightline interview, Ted Koppel asked Morrie about silence. Koppel mentioned Morrie\'s old friend and Brandeis colleague Maurie Stein. Stein and Morrie had been friends since the 1960\'s. Now Stein was going deaf. Koppel imagined the two men together one day, Morrie unable to speak because of the ALS and Stein unable to hear. “What then would you do, Morrie?” And this was the old professor\'s answer, \"We will hold hands and there\'ll be a lot of love passing between us. We have thirty five years of friendship. You don\'t need speech or hearing to feel that.\" One unable to speak, the other unable to hear-so they will simply hold hands. Hold hands. That\'s what Morrie and Mitch did in their last visits together. And Mitch, so reluctant at first to touch Morrie, found himself lifting Morrie\'s limp body in and out of bed. Mitch, so reluctant at first to express his compassion, found himself massaging Morrie\'s back and feet. Mitch, so reluctant at first to say I love you, found himself saying repeatedly to his old teacher, \"I love you.\" Mitch, so reluctant at first to cry, found himself crying a lot at the end. In truth, Mitch learned what it means to bear another\'s burden. It is in bearing another\'s burdens that we truly become human. Indeed, it is in bearing another\'s burdens that we become Christ like. We are drawn out of ourselves and we love another enough to say, \"If we cannot hear and we cannot talk, let us simply hold each other\'s hand.\" After Morrie\"s funeral, Mitch Albom said that what he learned from his old professor was this: \"There is no such thing as too late in life. Morrie changed until the day he said good bye.\" And what we can learn is this: it is never too late to bear another\'s burdens. We can always learn what Christ like compassion means and we can always learn to express it. It is never too late. \"Bear one another\'s burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.\" May it be so. Amen.
July 22,2007 SUPREME IN ALL THINGS Colossians 1:1-28
I would like to begin by telling you about a man who lived two thousand years ago. Before he was born, his mother knew he would not be a normal child. An angelic visitor told her that her son would be divine. Miraculous signs and wonders accompanied his birth. As a child he was religiously precocious and came to the temple at a young age to learn more. As an adult he left home to engage in an itinerant-preaching ministry. He urged people to live for what is spiritual, not merely for the material things of this world. He gathered disciples about him who remembered his words and deeds. He performed miracles to confirm the faith of his disciples, who maintained that he brought back to life the daughter of a Roman official. He provoked opponents who charged he was a magician in league with the demons. Eventually he was brought up on charges before Roman authorities. Even after he left this world, his followers claimed that he had ascended to heaven and that they had seen him alive. These disciples wrote books about his life and some of those writings survive even to this today. I am speaking, of course, of Apollonius of Tyana. You remember him! He was born a short distance from Tarsus, the hometown of Paul in modern day Turkey. Apollonius was a famous neo-Pythagorean philosopher of the First Century AD. A worshipper of the pagan gods, his life and teachings were recorded by his follower Philostratus. Apollonius lived about the same time as Jesus although they never met each other. But their followers encountered each other, and they engaged in heated debates about who was superior. There have always been rivals to Jesus, those who felt others surpassed this rabbi from Nazareth. In fact, in the First Century, there were as Paul said “gods many and lords many”(I Cor. 8). There were multiple pagan gods on Mount Olympus, some of whom appeared on occasion in human form. Some were part human and part divine, like Hercules with a human mother and a divine father. And there were political leaders who were elevated to divine status, most notably Augustus Caesar. In fact, the entire imperial theology of Rome was based on divinizing Caesar, making a god out of their emperor. In the ancient world there were many statues of Augustus Caesar, almost always in the nude to signify that the emperor-like the gods-was divine. The idea of a human who was also divine was quite common in the world of Jesus. Not only that, but political empires have often claimed a divine status for themselves. The Book of Daniel pictures four great beasts who rise up to become empires: the Babylonians, the Medes, the Persians, and finally the Greeks. Those who built the Tower of Babel said, “Come, let us make a name for ourselves”(Gen. 11:4). From that day hence, human pride and hubris has tried to make a name for itself in empire building. That was true of the empires in the time of Daniel and it is still true. In Jesus’ day the Roman Empire ruled the world. The Apocalypse of John sees the Roman Empire for what it really was-a beast rising from the sea claiming a divine status for itself. Other empires have come and gone, suggesting that they were not quite as divine as they may have imagined. The Islamic Empire, the Spanish Empire, the British Empire, and the Soviet Empire have all sought world domination. This desire to make a name for one’s empire is fundamentally a desire to be like god. In his fascinating work Colossus: The Rise and Fall of the American Empire the Harvard historian Niall Ferguson claims that the United States is seeking to build an economic and military empire in a world where we are the only superpower. Ferguson points out the obvious dangers before us, the very same pitfalls that brought down every empire preceding us. Primarily the constant temptation to use its military might to assert its will. You may disagree with Ferguson’s analysis, but we must not overlook the pride and hubris that infects some in our society. That desire to make a name for ourselves, to be like god, is ever present among us. No doubt, it is that kind of hubris that keeps us mired in Iraq, the kind of pride that overextends itself and ultimately exhausts itself. I pray that those who think of the Twenty-first Century as the American Century will not lead us into yet greater folly. Feet of clay have toppled every previous empire. Can we by the grace of God avoid such a destiny? I earnestly hope and pray so. But much will depend upon us individually and collectively. We must avoid the self-divinization that plagues garden-variety sinners and empires alike. It is our pride and hubris that brings disaster upon us personally and nationally. Whenever we assume in a thousand different ways that we are gods unto ourselves, we are in deep trouble. We must with courage acknowledge that we all want to be like god. What happened in the Garden of Eden did not stay in the Garden. It has plagued every person and every nation since. How tempting it is to be god yourself! How much more tempting for us collectively to elevate a nation to the status of a god-like empire! That is the temptation we must never succumb to as individuals or as citizens. Paul in the Colossian letter challenges us to know who we are and whose we are. We are not gods. The exalted Christ towers above us and calls us to surrender our pride and hubris. We belong to one who is the “image of the invisible God, the first born of creation.” In him the “fullness of God was pleased to dwell.” We submit ourselves to one “in whom and for whom all things in heaven and on earth were created.” He is “before all things and in him all things hold together.” We acknowledge him “head of the body, the church”. In him God “was pleased to reconcile all things to himself”, “making peace by the blood of his cross.” He is the “firstborn from the dead”. Because of his exalted status, he is to have “first place in everything.” In other words, the Risen Christ is supreme in all things: the creation of the world, the preservation of the world, and the redemption of the world. In all things he is preeminent. This exalted Christ stands over against our feeble attempts to be like god. In our personal lives and in our national life together, we are called to remember who we and whose we are. Indeed, baptism reminds us that we have died with Christ and our lives are hidden in Christ. We are not our own, we have been bought with a price. We do not belong to ourselves. We belong to the One who is preeminent in all things. We need not be something we are not. We need only to be the people Christ has redeemed, “making peace by the blood of his cross.” Rejecting every form of pride and hubris, the exalted Christ invites us to bow before him in adoration and praise. The exalted Christ invites us to offer ourselves as a living sacrifice to serve him and him alone. In this time of worship we give our hearts and our minds again to the Risen Christ. We gather to remind ourselves who the Risen Christ is-supreme in all things, the Lord of Lords and the Ruler of the entire universe. We remind ourselves who we are-servants of our Risen Christ through whom we have life that is life indeed. We have been marked in baptism as belonging to Christ-not to ourselves. Something happened in baptism that changes everything. We become servants, called to a life of service. So we see our world in a very different light. It is that realm where the Risen Christ is supreme in all things. Despite appearances, it is not economic clout or military might or terrorist threats or political ideologies that ultimately rule the world. It is neither celebrity nor fame that has the last word. Rather it is the Risen Christ, preeminent in all things, supreme in every way. Nations and empires are, as the book of Exodus reminds us, “mere grasshoppers” before the Exalted Christ. And so we bow before the Risen Christ. Thankful for all Christ has done for us. Grateful for liberating us from our lingering desire to be like god. And always acknowledging that Christ is all and in all and above all- that we belong to him in life and in death. Thus Paul says that “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow…and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father”. On this day that we remember our baptism, this is our humble confession. May it be so. Amen.
Back To the Top June 2007 June 3, 2007 THE CASE FOR CHARACTER Romans 5:1-5
This past week I read a book by David Brooks and Frank Goble entitled The Case for Character Education. I also re-read Thomas Likcona’s book Education for Character. These fascinating works outline the role that moral education has played in the American public schools. When free public education began to take root in 19th Century America, teaching students how to behave was right up there with reading, writing, and arithmetic. It was more or less Protestant ethics mixed with Aristotle’s ethics and Jeffersonian idealism. Remember it was Jefferson who once wrote, Virtue is not hereditary. It must be taught. These early efforts amounted to civic virtue 101. As Thomas Lickona noted, our schools began with the imperative to help students become not only smart but also good. In one of the instruction manuals of the time students would copy repeatedly lines such as these: An idle mind is the devil’s workshop and, Build your hopes of fame on virtue. It was understood that the schools were in the values formation business. At the beginning of the 20th Century the public schools began to be influenced by John Dewey’s view of progressive education. In Dewey we see a strong reaction to what he considered moral indoctrination , the kind of moralistic brow beating Mark Twain lampooned in Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. The emphasis now became helping students to understand their own moral framework and then choosing their own ethical path. That idea gained steam in the 1960’s with programs like values clarification which forced students again to choose their own ethical direction. Critics of this approach called it relativistic and far too individualistic. I have seen that debate rage both in the public schools and in Christian education circles. Because of a number of huge social upheavals, most especially the changing American family, many people began to ask the public schools to get back into the business of moral education. Lots of parents asked the schools to help them teach their children specific values and responsibilities of free citizens. In other words, something closer to what was happening in the 19th Century public schools. Responding to this felt need, a group met in Aspen, Colorado, in the summer of 1992. They issued what became called the Aspen Declaration. It called for the public schools to teach six core values most American can endorse: trustworthiness, respect, fairness, responsibility, caring, and citizenship. This became the Character Counts program that many public schools have adopted, including Albuquerque Public Schools. Some of you may know that I was crazy enough to try to teach Character Counts to a group of middle school students at Menaul School. Let the record show, I won’t try that again! So here is civic virtue 101 as the Character Count program envisions it. A person of character is trustworthy, treats people with respect, is responsible, is caring, and is a good citizen. I have often noted that this is much closer to Aristotle’s ethics than any particular religious ethics. It relies heavily upon role models to carry the freight of moral instruction. Be truthful like George Washington who could not tell a lie-that sort of thing. It is virtue that seeks to bring people into the public arena. All that is well and good. But Character Counts is only tangentially related to Christian ethics. In many ways it grows out of Christian ethics. But it is not all that we seek to do and be as followers of Christ. The Christian faith grows from a specific kind of soil. It is soil nurtured by the grace of God, the love of God, the Spirit of God shown in Christ our Lord. In other words, for us character is a gift of God for the people of God. In Paul’s letter to the Romans the first four chapters show that we have been reconciled to God in Christ. This is all gift, all grace which we gladly receive in faith and trust. Then Paul in Romans 5-8 insists that our new relationship to God in Christ brings us freedom. Chapter 5 lifts up our freedom from God’s displeasure. Chapter 6 outlines our freedom from the slavery to sin. Chapter 7 offers us freedom from the tyranny of the law and chapter 8 freedom from death. For Paul, the Christian life is ultimately freedom in Christ, freedom from the shackles of our old life and freedom to serve Christ with love and joy. So our text in Romans 5 says that our new relationship to God in Christ gives us peace with God. God is no longer displeased with us and we are no longer at enmity with God. There is peace, the Shalom of God. And that means we have confidence in God’s love toward us. We live without fear. And so we can endure the hard times life places before us. Paul says it like this: Suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character and character produces hope and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. Let’s meditate upon that packed sentence to help us consider just what Christian character is all about. It really begins with God’s love that has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. The main gift of the Spirit is love, a love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things ( I Cor. 13:7) God’s love changes us gradually into the image of Christ. God’s love transforms us in mysterious ways to reflect if unevenly Christ’s love for all people. Christian character begins with the giver of every good and perfect gift-the God revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. That is the soil of Christian character. So this must be said. Character for Christians is not self-generated. We do not build our own character . It would be more accurate to say that Christ is formed in us through God’s love that has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. Character is a grace thing. Character is a gift of God for the people of God. It is to reveal Christ to the world-not to win us merit badges. This is what God wants for our lives-a character that reflects God’s love for all people. So we don’t talk about our character as though it were our very own accomplishment. Whatever is good and lovely and pleasing in your life is God’s gift to you for the sake of the world. Yes, God calls you to cooperate and to be diligent and obedient, but even that is a gift from God. So character counts. It really does make a difference in the world for the sake of Christ. The Greek word Paul uses for character is dokime. That Greek word is used of metal that has been passed through the fire so that everything impure has been purged from it. Think of fire tested iron. That’s why Paul goes from suffering to endurance to character to hope. It is the hard times that test our character. Then we see what we are made of, by the grace of God. The Holy Spirit poured into our hearts gives us endurance and character and hope in the face of adversity. We are not crushed by these dark phases. We do not lose heart. Because the Spirit lifts us and gives us endurance, character, and hope. This is a generous and wonderful gift. And God gives us sisters and brothers in Christ who lift our spirits. How can any of us go through rough waters without a little help from our friends in Christ? Their character lifts us when we are hurting and troubled. How many of you have been personally helpful to me these last several weeks as we have faced some challenges within our own family! One cannot be grateful enough for friends in Christ, the body of Christ. When we need each other, it is a most blessed gift to receive! So our character is formed in the crucible of difficulties and pain. Our character is shaped most profoundly by God’s love poured into hearts through the Spirit. Our character is upheld and strengthened by others who have also gone through the deep waters. Because they endured, one is given hope. And hope never disappoints us. So this is the Good News as we approach the Table of our Lord. We are here reminded of the suffering of Jesus, how he endured, how he developed his character, how he hoped in God. The food around this table reminds us that many others in our community suffer. By these gifts we would help them endure and give them hope. In whatever way our character has enhanced someone else’s life, then we are simply passing on what has been given to us in Christ. Character counts. And God’s love counts most of all. Thanks be to God. Amen.
June 17, 2007 CHRIST IN YOU Galatians 2:15-21
Some of you may remember my good friend the Rev. Sam Riccobene. He came to St. Andrew several times while serving as the Director of Admissions at Austin Seminary. Sam’s first call out of seminary was as the Associate Pastor for Older Adult Ministry at Bryn Mawr Presbyterian Church. In the suburbs of Philadelphia this large affluent church on the Main Line has almost 1000 members who are 65 and older. We used to kid Sam that he was the “prime minister of funerals” since he conducted forty or more a year! Once I asked Sam what had been his primary learning from his experience at Bryn Mawr. Without hesitation Sam gave this answer: “I learned that whatever character flaws we have, we should work very hard to deal with them before we retire.” When I confessed I didn’t exactly understand what he meant, Sam explained, “While people are working and employed they tend to keep their character flaws in check. But when they retire and have no one to report to or be accountable to, they tend to let it all hang out as they say. So their character flaws often become much more pronounced and apparent. If they were sorta crabby while working, they become really crabby when they retire.” That insight prompted me to ask Sam how he was doing with his own character flaws. With tongue planted firmly in cheek Sam assured me he had none! Ever since that conversation I have thought about what Sam said. Do you think his observation is true? I tend to think it is true for some but thankfully not for all retirees! Some of you have matured and over the years have grown sweeter and brighter and lovelier. Some of you-not so much. That conversation with Sam also forced me to consider my own life as I approach the magic age of 60. Unlike Sam, I am quite aware of lingering character flaws that I need to work on-long before I retire. Some are rather obvious, like my need to be more organized and all that. Those are the kind of character flaws that preachers are all too willing to admit publicly, a kind of safe “mea culpa”. But there are other character flaws that need my concerted, on going attention. Some of you know this already but I have a real temper. Had it all my life. I need to deal with that constantly. The last time I blew a gasket in a Session meeting was in 1994 at St. Luke Presbyterian Church in Amarillo. I quickly adjourned the Session, locked myself in the pastor’s study and prayed that I would never do that again. By the grace of God, since then I have never publicly lost my temper in a Session meeting. But let me be frank, as they say. During the last thirteen years on several occasions I have locked myself in the pastor’s study to cool off and pray for self-control! So yes, I wish I could be totally organized and serenely accepting of life. I am not there yet. But I would like to get there before I retire. God knows I do not wish to be a retired, disorganized, angry old man! And neither does my wife! Paul is acutely aware in the Galatian letter that people have all kinds of character flaws. Paul himself probably had a short fuse. In fact, he blew a gasket in dealing with this congregation in central Turkey. The Galatian congregation had received gladly the Good News of God’s grace in Christ Jesus. Then they had been persuaded to turn to a form of legalism, which insisted they keep some aspects of the Mosaic Law to be saved. After his initial formal greetings at the beginning of this letter, Paul writes, “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to different gospel.” He is amazed they could be so easily de-railed from their spiritual path. More than any other place in his letters, Paul here loses his temper and warns them against “deserting” Christ for a form of legalism. When it came to matters of principle, matters of deep importance, Paul could be direct and very testy. In our passage in Galatians 2 Paul again insists that we cannot be justified by doing the works of the law. What does he mean by that phrase? Basically he means that the law always points out our shortcomings and judges us. No matter how many good things we do we never match up. The law looms over us like an accuser saying, “You have not done enough. You have missed the mark. You are guilty.” No matter how hard we try Paul says that before the law we are always in the wrong. That is why he insists upon faith in Christ. It is our trust in the living Christ that acquits us and gives us peace with God. Grace upon grace. Mercy upon mercy. Forgiveness and unconditional love. Things we can never earn by sufficient good deeds. It’s all grace. It’s all gift. Through Christ, in Christ, and for Christ. So instead of the law hanging over our heads like the sword of Damocles, Christ lives within. That is what Paul gladly offers us. A gracious, forgiving, renewing presence within us. But there is a price. Christ comes into our lives and insists upon changes, radical changes. His is an offer to come and die with him in baptism. Paul says we have been “crucified with Christ”. That is his way of talking about baptism, a death experience in a watery grave that initiates an entirely new life. A life lived in the power and presence of Christ. The old me is constantly challenged. It not the law brooding over me threatening condemnation. Rather it is the Spirit of Christ within putting to death all the things that make my life difficult to others and harmful to myself. My anger, my jealousy, my addictions, my indifference, my anxiety, my inordinate desires, my rebellion. To be crucified with Christ in baptism is a life-long summons to subject myself to death-death in Christ. Paul even says, “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” The old me will continually be asked to surrender. Christ wants to take front and center in our lives. It must be said that this is a life time struggle, never fully won, but always a work in process. Christ wishes to live in us and transform us into his likeness. In a wonderful phrase, Paul sums up our life in Christ like this: “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” Death and renewal. Renunciation and transformation. That is what it means to live in Christ and for Christ to live in you. So this is a call for continual repentance and conversion and prayer. For me it means going into the pastor’s study or my closet at home or out for a walk. It means praying for a change of heart, that Christ will repossess my recalcitrant heart. To give me a renewed spirit and a new power to live this baptismal life in Christ. It means aiming the laser of Christ’s Spirit directly upon those lingering character flaws that simply refuse to die. It could be the Christian life is a bit like having numerous pre-cancerous cells removed from our skin. Removed before they become malignant. Christ is in the process of changing us and burning away the impurities in our spirits. So this morning I would offer again my life into the service of Christ. And I think that is why you came here today. Isn’t that what we do every worship service? We confess to Christ that the baptismal waters need to wash over us again to put to death the character flaws that plague us. We ask Christ to fill us again, to re-occupy our hearts and live within us. It is a daily, a weekly process, this Christian life. Always demanding and challenging, yet always so enriching and meaningful. This is the life that is life indeed. Life in Christ, Christ in us. A life inspired by the Spirit of Christ to produce those wonderful fruits of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control”. In a moment we will hear from Earl Harvey, our founding pastor and pastor emeritus. I first met Earl in 1978 when he was pastor at Carlsbad. He was serving then as the moderator of Sierra Blanca Presbytery. I saw then and I see now a man called by God to ministry, someone who has been ordained 55 years. And I see someone who has lived close to Christ, who has died with Christ in baptism and has lived in Christ for all these years. I see a luminous spirit, a caring human being, a joyful soul. He and Lois have been a blessing to so many congregations. And most especially a blessing to this congregation and to me personally. Earl, I see Christ living in you and so do others. And this is the really good news. Earl, since you have never really retired from the ministry, you still have time to work on some of your character flaws. In truth, you are a welcome model for joyful ministry. A wonderful husband, a beloved father, and a trusted friend and confidant. And for that we are all most grateful. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Back To the Top May 2007 May 6, 2007 URBAN RENEWAL Rev. 21:1-6
When Socrates was put on trial in Athens, the verdict came in against him. He was sentenced to drink hemlock. But his friends and even his enemies assumed he would accept voluntary banishment, as was the custom. However, Socrates refused to leave his hometown. He preferred execution to exile. Why? Because he insisted that Athens had always been his home. He did not intend to leave her, even in the case of a gross miscarriage of justice. Socrates always said that everything he ever wanted was in Athens-people, markets, conversations, religion, politics, and philosophy. He was not inclined to wander about in the hills or set sail on the ocean. In effect, Socrates said he was always a “city boy” and he would die a “city boy.” And so he did. Most of the world’s population will live their entire lives in large urban centers. The six billion plus people on this planet are crowded into large metropolitan areas, including the world’s richest and poorest cities. There are towering high rises and teeming slums. There are crowded freeways and muddy trails. And most of all, there are people. Millions of them packed closely together in apartments and tenements and tin shacks. The world today is composed primarily of crowded cities burgeoning with people. So most of us will be like Socrates. We will live and die as city boys and city gals. It is amazing then how many of our fantasies take us far, far away from the city. “Beam me up, Scotty!” “Want to get away to a South Sea island?” “Let’s go back to nature.” “I’d rather be fishing.” And many religions envision the afterlife as far removed from the city as one can imagine. That’s why we are given images of Elysian Fields or green pastures or a new Garden of Eden or the Islands of the Blessed. In the Islamic vision of Paradise there is an enclosed garden or a fertile oasis or a large park. Many of the world religions provide an escape from the city in the eternal bliss of a natural Paradise. But the Christian faith is forever tied to the city. Jesus came to the city of Jerusalem and like Socrates before him, died in the city. Then the faith spread to the urban centers of the Mediterranean world thanks largely to the missionary work of Paul. Ever since the first century Christians have lived and worked and worshipped in the great urban centers of the world. That’s why we are forever tied to the city. That doesn’t mean we ignore rural areas and small towns. It just means we have chosen not to turn our backs on the city. However many challenges and difficulties we face in the city, we are embedded in its culture and its ethos. That has been the case in my life and I suspect in the lives of most of us. Our life together in Albuquerque is an urban experience, like it has been for most Christians. So the picture of heaven from chapter 21 of Revelation should not surprise us. It is the picture of a holy city, the New Jerusalem. Heaven is not some far away cloud or a beach lined island or mystic getaway. It is, for goodness sake, a city, a transformed city, for sure, but still a city. It is a city amidst a “new heaven and a new earth.” The crumbling cities, the cities of this world, are no more. And now this shimmering city appears like a “bride adorned for her husband.” It is, in effect, the ultimate in urban renewal. I have been thinking a lot about this theme of heaven as the ultimate in urban renewal. My reflections have been clarified by reading the works of Jacques Ellul, a wonderful lay theologian in the French Reformed tradition. Ellul died in 1994 having lived almost all his 82 years in the city of Bordeaux, France. He taught law and history of the University of Bordeaux and wrote some magnificent books. Two that occupied me this past week were The Meaning of the City and Apocaplypse. Ellul points out that, according to the fourth chapter of Genesis, the first city was built by Cain, who murdered his brother Abel. Cain is banished and told he would be a fugitive and a wanderer upon the earth. But Cain settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden. There Cain and his wife have a child they named Enoch. There they build a city and name this first city after their son. For Ellul, this means that the city has its origin in the human effort to find security for oneself. The city is an effort to find permanence and safety. Cain, the murderer, is the father of the city, says Ellul. A long shadow from that first city is cast upon every city ever since. For many people, the city is a place of disease and displacement and death. Even murder. It can indeed be a city without a soul, an impersonal procession of others-strangers and those who pass by on the other side. The city can crush as well as exalt. The city can reveal the best of human achievements and the worst of human failures. The city is decidedly a mixed bag. Jesus knew that and nevertheless turned his face toward Jerusalem. He entered her gates only to be taken outside her gates to be crucified. In the eleventh chapter of Revelation Jerusalem is described as “the great city that is prophetically called Sodom and Egypt, where also their Lord was crucified”. The city that stoned the prophets also crucified her Messiah. So the city needs to be redeemed. The city cries out for urban renewal. In the book of Revelation the great opponent of the City of God is Babylon, that terrible city of a thousand excesses. At the coming of the City of God, Babylon will fall: “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!” All that arrogated to itself power and pomp and pageantry is brought to its knees. Babylon must give way to the New Jerusalem. The New Jerusalem will come. The holy city will triumph. And this is how John envisioned it. The New Jerusalem will become the home of God among the people of God. God will dwell among us. God will be with us. The Immanuel of promise will be the Immanuel of eternal presence. And this ever present God will wipe every tear from our eyes. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more. And most assuredly Death will be a distant memory. Why? Because the Alpha and the Omega will make all things new. And we will never thirst again because we will drink from the spring of the water of life. And we will live in community, authentic community in the presence of God. This is not flight of the alone to the Alone. We will come together before the Alpha and the Omega in genuine community-not as isolated individuals, but united in love triumphant. This will be community as we always envisioned it. For Ellul, this vision of the city redeemed reminds us of our mission even now. We are not called to give up on the city. Nor are we called to imagine that the city is perfectible. Rather we are called to act for justice and peace within the city knowing that all our work is relative and provisional. We never create the absolutely just and peaceful society-that is a form of idolatry. But we do seek to bring light and hope to a sometimes-hopeless city. So we do not abandon the city. Jesus did not. Paul did not. Nor should we. We seek helpful ways to make the city more like that city whose builder and maker is God. We seek the city which is to come and that gives us courage to seek justice and peace in the city even here and now. We do not flee to the hills. We engage the city in the Spirit of Christ who set his face toward Jerusalem. We witness to the transforming love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. We lift up this bread and wine for those who hunger and thirst for meaning. We place before the city the baptismal font, the water of life. We hold before the city the vision of a coming city “adorned like a bride for her husband.” We proclaim that all things can be made new in Christ, even a broken and crowded city. A city caught in mourning and crying and pain is invited into the presence of a healing God who wipes every tear from our eyes. We hold before the whole world this promise: all is redeemable. Even the city. Most especially the city. This is our grand hope in Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God. Amen.
THE HEALING OF THE NATIONS Rev. 21:10, 22-22:1-5
C. S. Lewis published his imaginative work The Great Divorce in 1946. In this charming little book Lewis wonders what would happen if some inhabitants of the dreary city of hell were taken on a long bus ride. Their destination? The outskirts of heaven. Now these residents of hell-ghostly figures indeed-reside in dingy streets presided over by an eternally leaden sky. A small group of these ghosts line up and eventually board the bus. They are a quarrelsome lot, their faces disgruntled and distorted. Happy campers they are not. They are ghosts with an attitude. But now they are taken on a ride, a ride like none other. The bus is bright with a golden light. The Driver is radiant enough to seem like light itself. There is a cheerfulness about the bus that the riders hardly absorb. The long journey finally brings the bus to a green landscape with a wide river running through it. There the bus lands and the ghosts, still pushing and cursing, make their way out. The sky now has the cool intimate light of a summer sunrise. The song of a lark spreads across the land. In the distance is a great range of mountains with a bright city on the highest peak. And these ghosts in this new land discover to their amazement that their bodies have become transparent against the brightness of the sky. And they also discover that everything is solid and hard as a diamond, utterly real. All this is rather disconcerting to this touchy group of passengers. One of the passengers turns to the Driver and asks when they will return home. At this point, the Driver says something quite astonishing. The Driver announces to these ghostly passengers that they can stay if they so choose. In fact, the Driver offers a warm invitation to each ghost to live forever in the delectable mountains where the sun is always rising. And so begins the process of thought these ghosts engage in, deciding whether to stay or not. They engage in arguments about the possibility of life after death. They lash out in contempt against the inconvenience of it all. Others demand their rights, not some kind of charity. Others insist that they deserve better than all this. A ghost who had been a theologian insists that he preferred the search for truth rather than actually finding the answer. One ghost who had had been a famous artist is distressed that his fame and celebrity don’t mean anything in heaven. And so he angrily declines the offer. It appears all the ghosts will turn down this gracious offer. Then a shining Spirit looking like a shepherd appears. It is the Christian writer George MacDonald, whom Lewis adored. This shining Spirit explains why so many refuse this offer. He explains, “There is always something they insist on keeping even at the price of misery.” They demand their own will above everything else in the universe. They would rather return to the dingy gray city where they get their way instead of staying in the bright land which is their true home. But all is not lost. One ghost, one only, accepts the offer. This ghost is dark and oily in appearance. On his shoulder is a little red lizard of lust. The ghost hated the talkative, demanding lizard on his shoulder. He wants to be rid of this red lizard and its tormenting lust once and for all. So a flaming Spirit grabs the lizard who then issues a torrent of dire warnings to the ghost. But this time the flaming Spirit hurls the lizard away and the ghost is overwhelmed. Then miraculously the ghost is transformed into a real person. Just as amazing, the twisting lizard is transformed into a magnificent stallion with a golden tail and mane. Then the new man and the powerful stallion ride off toward the city on the mountaintop. All the land breaks forth into a song of gladness. Last they were seen the horse and rider go “father in and higher up” into the “rose brightness of the everlasting morning.” Ghost and lizard have become a bright being and a heralded stallion-utterly transformed and made real and solid, like all of heaven. That was Lewis’ imaginative vision of the outskirts of heaven. In John’s vision the prisoner of Patmos is carried away to a great, high mountain. There he sees the holy city of Jerusalem coming down out of heaven. In this holy city there is no temple for God and the Lamb are the temple. There is no sun or moon for the glory of God and the Lamb will be their eternal light. Her gates are always open and night never falls upon the city. And nothing unclean or accursed ever enters the city, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb\'s book of life. Like New York City, this holy city has a huge garden at its center. Flowing from the throne of God and the Lamb is a river bright as crystal. Like the river of life in the book of Ezekiel, this river brings eternal life to all who drink from her. This flowing river waters the tree of life-actually a tree of life on either side of the river. On the trees are twelve kinds of fruit. And then this final detail. The leaves on the trees are for the healing of the nations. The leaves on the tree of life will heal the nations that once opposed God and the Lamb. What a magnificent image! In fact, John envisions that all the nations will walk together in the light of the holy city. The rulers of the earth will bring their glory into the holy city. John says that the “people will bring into the city the glory and the honor of the nations.” Isaiah had imagined that all the nations would bring their treasure to Mount Zion. Now all the nations and all the rulers bring their glory and honor to pay tribute to God and to the Lamb. It is a stunning picture of universal worship and acclaim. What are we to make of this vision? Perhaps C. S. Lewis captured something of this vision in The Great Divorce. Remember that ghost with the red lizard of lust on his shoulder? That was the lone ghost who would be transformed. Once the lizard’s power is broken, the ghost turns into a real person and even the lizard is turned into a heralded stallion. Together they ride into the light that surrounds the holy city. Perhaps John envisions a day when all the nations that opposed God and the Lamb will finally be transformed. In John’s Apocalypse the hostile city of Babylon is the symbol of opposition to the New Jerusalem. John hopes that the light of the holy city will transform even God’s opponents. The n they will offer their glory and honor in an act of homage. His fond hope is that all the nations and her rulers will join the people of God in worship and praise. John says that all “will see God’s face” and God’s “name will be on their foreheads.” This Beatific Vision will utterly change all things. To see the face of God is the final goal and ultimate hope of our lives. And that experience, that exquisite moment of grace, will transform all of heaven and earth. That is the generous and expansive hope of John. I would not presume to understand all that these visions mean. Maybe we could say that they remind us that the ultimate issues, the final decisions about human destiny are in God’s hands alone. And maybe it means that God’s purposes are always healing purposes. The leaves on the tree of life are for the healing of the nations. Our personal healing and our corporate healing. The healing of all our diseases-cancer and heart disease and AIDS and Ahlzeimer’s and malaria and tuberculosis. Healed. Mental illness and depression and substance abuse. Healed. War and famine and prejudice and poverty and crime. Healed. Sadness and loneliness and meaninglessness. Healed. The leaves on the tree of life are for the healing of the nations. This is the promise of an expansive, universal healing. No more pain, no more suffering, no more strife. The Prince of Peace brings peace at long last. The Lamb of God takes away the sins of the world-forever and ever. The leaves on the tree of life are for the healing of the nations. What a vision! What a hope! And that means we don’t lose heart. We pray and work for the healing of diseases of every kind. We pray and work for the healing of every individual hurt. We pray and work for the healing of the nations, their ultimate reconciliation. With such a vision before us, we never give up. As Lewis imagined in his tale, even a ghost with a red lizard on his shoulder can be transformed. And so can the lizard. That is the unconquerable hope of John’s vision. May it be ours as well. Thanks be to God. Amen.
May 20, 2007 THY KINGDOM COME Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21
For the entire decade of the 1980’s I served as a campus minister. Four years at a small Presbyterian school outside San Antonio called Schreiner College. Then six years at the enormous University of Texas at Austin. Those were the years of Ronald Reagan and the religious right. The late Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson were in their Moral Majority hey day. Those were also the years of Hal Lindsey. He is the dispensationalist writer who gave us that best seller The Late Great Planet Earth. Lindsey’s book purported to describe the end of the world, the final curtain falling as he thought in the late 80’s or early 90’s. Now it must be said he did give himself a little wiggle room in his predictions. For Lindsey, the re-establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 was the turning point of history. From his calculations, the final judgment was scheduled to happen within a generation, that is, within 40 years or so from 1948. Lindsey was good enough to give us maps that showed how the final battle of Armageddon would occur. Lots of Soviet tank divisions swooping down from the north to invade Israel highlighted his book. Of course, when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1989 Lindsey had to re-calculate the end times. Much like the Italian mystic Joachim of Fiore who had to re-calculate the end time when it did not come in 1033 AD. Joachim of Fiore had counted on the thousand-year reign of Christ to bring history to a close. The Joachims of Fiore and the Hal Lindseys always get themselves in a bind when they start predicting the grand finale. Especially when time just keeps on rolling along. Needless to say, Lindsey’s book created quite a stir among many college students during the 80’s. For some, it was more like hysteria. Countless students would approach me and ask breathlessly, Is it true? Is the end near? My stock answer was always the same. Why of course. It has always been near. Ever since Jesus ascended into heaven. The end has always been right around the corner. In fact, our text from Revelation 22:12 says quite plainly, See, I am coming soon. And then again in 22:20: Surely I am coming soon. But then I would explain that no one knows how soon that will be. Especially not Hal Lindsey and his ilk. And that includes the recent reincarnation of Hal Lindsey found in the Left Behind series. Same song, second verse. It is that kind of theological nonsense that gives the book of Revelation a bad name. Every lunatic fringe quotes this apocalyptic literature and pretends to know exactly how it all unfolds. That is why John Calvin refused to write a commentary on Revelation-the only book of the Bible he did not comment upon. Because his opponents used this book against him, Calvin hardly acknowledged its existence in the canon. And Presbyterians to this day have largely followed suit. We have treated the book of Revelation like that crazy old Uncle hidden away in the attic. Out of sight, out of mind. But not us. We have been listening to the Apocalypse of John these last several weeks. Today is our fourth and final sermon on the book of Revelation. OK, stop applauding! I have tried to reclaim some of the value of this book for our life of discipleship. We have considered what this apocalypse teaches us about worship, about the communal nature of life eternal, and about the healing of the nations. Today I would like us to consider what this book teaches us about prayer. Prayer? How so? Rev. 22:20 is the next to last verse in this book and indeed the entire Bible. It contains a prayer, the final prayer in the Bible. It says simply, Come, Lord Jesus. In the Greek, Maranatha! This prayer expresses a deep longing to see the face of God at the culmination of all history. This prayer longs to join the communion of saints in the perpetual worship of God. It desires to see the healing of the nations and the reconciliation of all things in Christ. It is a breathtaking prayer. In verse 17 the desire of nations is voiced, the desire to come home and be at peace at last: The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let everyone who hears say, Come. And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift. So this prayer yearns for a homecoming, to enter the eternal city through her gates and eat of the tree of life and drink of the water of life. This prayer voices a profound desire to come into the healing presence of Christ and to live forever. It is a prayer that Christ would come and make all things new. Now let’s be candid and admit that few of us would ever voice this prayer. Few indeed. We are far too embedded in the life of our times to offer such pray. In fact, if anyone seriously prayed like that, we might think of it as a kind of death wish. Or we might think that someone’s escapist tendencies had simply gotten out of hand. Sort of like praying, Beam me up, Scottie! Or we might think that the whole idea of such a prayer is simply preposterous, a kind of mythological excess. Maybe we really don’t think that the end is near or anywhere in sight or that it will ever happen. Well, not until the sun runs out of hydrogen in a couple of billion years. Or we may think that the notion of the Coming of Christ, the Parousia, is simply beyond belief. Obviously there are many reasons why this prayer- Come, Lord Jesus! -may not be your prayer or my prayer. But I would ask you to consider this question: How is this prayer so very different from the Lord’s Prayer, a prayer we offer almost every Sunday morning? In that familiar prayer we say, Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Right out loud we ask that God’s Kingdom, God’s reign would come upon the earth, just as it already exists in heaven. And I think we really mean it when we offer that petition. God, bring your reign of faith, hope, and love into our lives. Grant to us your peace, the peace that passes all understanding. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Give us this day our daily bread. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. That we pray with deep conviction every Sunday. And that prayer in effect asks for a foretaste of what the final culmination of all things will bring. Peace at last. Joy at last. Love at last. Homecoming and delight. Whenever we experience something of God’s presence now, it is simply a preview of coming attractions. What comes so tentatively and sparingly now will come in its fullness in God’s own time. It is like sharing in the Lord’s Supper- to proclaim the death of our Lord until he comes. It is a foretaste of that time when people will come from east and west and north and south and sit at table in the kingdom of God. A glimmer and a hint of what will be. So come Lord Jesus. Thy kingdom come. Come now and let us drink of the water of life. Come to us in the breaking of the bread. Come even now and wipe away some of the tears from our eyes. Come quickly to heal and to give hope. Come powerfully and bring peace to your warring children. Come in mercy to forgive and to bind up broken hearts. Come in tenderness to give strength and endurance and patience to those who suffer. Come without delay and help us in our need. Come and give us courage and good cheer and joy in our struggles. And finally, Good and Gracious God, come in power. Come in glory. Come in your own good time and receive us into your everlasting dominion world without end. Come and let us sup with you and all your people. Come Lord Jesus. Thy kingdom come. Amen. May 27, 2007 VISIONS OF TOGETHERNESS Acts 2:1-21
The prophet Joel had a vision some 400 years before Jesus. Joel envisions the coming of the day of the Lord. Joel calls that day great and glorious . It is a day both terrifying and inspiring. First, it is terrifying. The earth will herald the day of the Lord with blood, fire, and smoky mist . The sky above will also bear witness with the sun transformed into darkness and the moon into blood. In other words, pretty scary special effects. When the prophets wanted to show that something dramatic was about to happen, they painted a big picture with very large brush strokes. And that means blood, fire, darkness, and smoky mist. Now Joel also painted an inspiring picture of the coming day of the Lord. Beyond the blood, fire, darkness, and smoky mist there is a remarkable outpouring of God’s Spirit. God’s Spirit would be poured out on all people. Everyone, and I mean everyone, could receive this spirit of life and regeneration. The Spirit will come upon sons and daughters who will prophesy. The Spirit will come upon young men who will see visions. The Spirit will come upon old folks who will dream dreams. Even slaves will receive the Spirit and they too will prophesy. Gracious, this is an equal opportunity Spirit! Joel envisioned a great and glorious day when momentous changes would come. The Spirit of God would come upon everyone, everywhere! And my, how lives would be transformed. Prophecy, visions, dreams. And for what purpose? So that all people would call upon the name of the Lord and be saved. This is for our redemption, our salvation, our wholeness. That is how Joel envisioned that great and glorious day . And so it is no accident that Peter at Pentecost calls upon Joel’s vision. Peter announces that Joel’s vision had come true in their lifetime. Momentous changes had emerged from that empty tomb. The crucified rabbi from Nazareth had risen! The Spirit of life and regeneration had come upon the followers of the risen Christ. And now they wanted to share their gift with all the people assembled in Jerusalem. Luke reminds us that in that assembly were pilgrims from all over the world: Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phyrigia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Libya, Rome, Cretans and Arabs. They had come to Jerusalem for the Jewish feast of Pentecost. And now they are hearing this good news in their own languages. The Spirit of the risen Christ turned Peter’s sermon into words they could understand. This is an astonishing miracle, something unprecedented and unique. The Spirit brings people together in the good news of the risen Christ. Peter’s words cut to the heart and changed them. These strangers from all over are transformed into a new reality-the emergent church, the Body of Christ. Luke tells us that some 3000 people were baptized into Christ that day. Words fail us as we try to imagine the scene. On that day the church of Jesus Christ began, a new people of the Spirit. Luke also tells us that this new congregation of God’s people devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread and prayer. They sold their possessions and gave it to the poor. And this verse sums up this new Spirit filled community of faith: All who believed were together and had all things in common (Acts 2:44). So Joel’s vision of togetherness in the Spirit came to fruition at Pentecost. It is still the grand vision of the church everywhere: people changed from strangers into sisters and brothers by the Spirit of the resurrected Christ. Then they stick together. They are held together by the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, prayer and sharing what they have with each other. It was that way in the beginning and it is still the hope for the church of the future. Now let’s be candid. Sometimes we are put off by such togetherness. We Presbyterians have never been too keen on communal living. Monastic poverty is not our strong suit. We are for the most part people of property so the idea of communal sharing leaves us pretty nervous. In fact, for many of us, it is our worst nightmare. So let us be truthful about this portrait of the birth of the church at Pentecost. If the truth were known, we are rather glad we missed it. Now that does not mean that we don’t need community and fellowship. We do. We just want it on our own terms. That is to say, we want our own room, thank you very much. We want our own toys. And we most assuredly want our own bank account. But still, somewhere deep in our hearts, we do want relationships that matter. We just want our togetherness to come in carefully measured doses. But there are times, memorable times, when we allow ourselves to be drawn into an intense time of togetherness. And if it is rationed out in the proper proportions-decently and in order, as they say-we are deeply enriched by that experience. Take for instance, the stained glass window behind me. Several of you here helped fashion that beautiful addition to our worship space in the 1980’s. That was a time of working closely together for the common good of the congregation and her new sanctuary. And how that window has served us well all these years. I truly love it and I know you do too. It bears testimony to joint effort and intense work together. Now this is Pentecost, a day in which we celebrate a vision of togetherness. Young and old, female and male, rich and poor, from every ethnic background gathered into the life of the church. Worshipping together, sharing together, working together. It is a day that reminds us that we are not alone. We are formed into a worldwide fellowship of Spirit and love. We are never called to be Lone Rangers, but sisters and brothers in a community of faith, hope, and love. Pentecost celebrates a vision of togetherness unprecedented in world history. So it is appropriate that today we dedicate this new stained glass window. This lovely addition to our newly remodeled worship space reminds us again of the importance of working together. So many people put their hearts and hands to this project. So many gave of their time, talent, and treasure. Such talented people in our congregation now as was the case in the 80’s when our first stained glass was fashioned! Talented people willing to give so much of themselves for a particular task. And in true Presbyterian fashion, we had a committee to oversee this work. We never do things simply on our own. We are always accountable to one another and to the Session and ultimately to Christ the head of the Church. And that means we have to negotiate and compromise. Decently and in order means quite simply time consuming. We are hardly ever efficient, but by golly, we are democratic. And for some of you, that is incredibly challenging. But guess what? That is who we are. We do things in ordered groups. We talk until we get it right! And friends in Christ, I think this lovely new stained glass window gets it right. Two things stand out for me in these eleven panels. For me, the rich and varied colors of this landscape remind me of the rich variety of people in our congregation. The different gifts we bring, the unique perspective that each one offers, the always-fascinating personalities. Even the particular skills that everyone involved in this project brought to this task. The colors of this window remind me of our varied gifts brought together into a beautiful finished product. The Spirit does indeed offer various gifts to different members of the body for the common good. Also for me, this window will always remind me of those living streams of water in the desert. A gift from God for thirsty sojourners looking for refreshment of their spirits. Every time I come into this sanctuary from this day forward, I will be reminded of this hope: God has promised that the Spirit will well up within us into eternal life. That water in the desert is the hope of the world, the oasis for our spirits. Now it wasn’t easy and it wasn’t quick getting to this day. But by the grace of God, it was worth the wait. A vision of togetherness on this Pentecost Sunday. Light and color and beauty. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Back To the Top April 2007 April 1, 2007 Rev. Frank Yates THE VERY STONES Luke 19:28-40
Over the last four weeks we have talked about animals and plants. Remember how Jesus compared King Herod to a fox and then compared himself to a mother hen? Remember that fig tree given one more year to produce fruit or else? Well, today let’s add inanimate objects-specifically stones-to that list. In fact, the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem combines animals and plants and stones. Animals? Jesus is riding on a donkey. Plants? The people are waving their palm branches (or so says the Gospel of John!). Actually in Luke’s Gospel there are no palm branches. Rather the people spread their garments on the ground in the path of Jesus, whom they hail as “the King who comes in the name of the Lord”. But since this is Palm Sunday, let’s say the people also had palms! In the midst of all this commotion, Jesus talks about stones. Why? Because some Pharisees run up alongside Jesus riding on that donkey. Breathlessly they demand that Jesus rebuke his disciples for hailing him as Israel’s king. Then Jesus answers his opponents with this stinging rebuke, “I tell you if these people were silent, the very stones would cry out!” As he draws closer to the City of David, he is moved to lamentation: “Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace! But now they are hid from your eyes. For the days shall come upon you, when your enemies will cast up a bank about you and surround you, and hem you in on every side and dash you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave one stone upon another in you. Because you did not know the time of your visitation.” In the midst of one of Jesus’ most glorious moments, Jesus talks about stones. He says the very stones would erupt in homage and praise if his followers do not. And he says the very stones in the walls of Jerusalem and the Temple will someday lie in ruins. Stones. They bear witness to the King who comes in the name of the Lord. They cry out in praise. And they will tumble to the ground. The very stones bear witness that this indeed was the time of God’s visitation. All this got me to thinking about the stones that are ever so abundant in Israel, a rocky land indeed. Think of all those references to stones in the Scriptures. Stones marked boundaries, which were not to be tampered with. Stones were used for hostile purposes, like David’s five smooth stones that led to Goliath’s undoing. And don’t forget the woman caught in adultery, who was about to be stoned had Jesus not intervened. Stones commemorated momentous events, like the large stone Joshua set up at Shechem to enshrine the people’s promise to be faithful to God. Remember the stone, which Jacob used as a pillow at Bethel and then poured oil upon to commemorate his dream of the angels ascending and descending upon that ladder into heaven. And who could forget those two tablets of stone that Moses brought down from the summit of Mount Sinai bearing the Ten Commandments? Not to mention that large stone rolled over the tomb of Jesus. Think of the stones used in building and decorations. Elijah built a stone altar on Mount Carmel and there was a stone altar outside the Holy of Holies for sacrificial rituals. The temple was built with massive hewn stones, some of which many of you have seen. And don’t forget the beautiful stones on the high priests breastplate and the precious stones in the New Jerusalem with her streets of gold and all that. Jesus talks about the seed falling upon rocky ground. He compares himself to a stone, which the builders reject. Eventually that rejected stone became the chief cornerstone. And Christians are compared to living stones creating God’s new temple. Finally, in the book of Revelation (2:17) those who endure are promised a white stone on which is written their new name as citizens of the New Jerusalem. And so on this Palm Sunday we consider stones. Of course, there are the stones we throw at one another. There are precious stones we give to the ones we love, like those diamonds on wedding rings. There are stones we fill our yards with in lovely xeriscape design. Yes, all of that. But more importantly, the stones speak about our values and our commitments and our dreams. For most of us, the brick and mortar and stones that go into our homes make up our single largest investment. So much of our money and our time go into our homes. There we live and spend a good deal of our lives. Think of the amount of time and effort we have put into our facility here. And in this season of the year we are asking you to help fund the mortgage for this building. Our homes and this church building say something about our values. We care about our surroundings, the places in which we live and worship and work. And so we spend a good deal of our money and energy on them. Which brings us to that beautiful stone courthouse in downtown Albuquerque. We have all been stunned by indictments related to the courthouse construction. Prominent politicians, court administrators, architects, and builders have been implicated in this kick back scandal. Those stones will now bear witness to our greed and deceit. Once again the love of money and power may lead to the fall of the mighty and the prominent. And it appears that the handling of this investigation led to the dismissal of our U.S. Attorney, a firing that implicated one of our Senators and our representative from this district. Those courthouse stones may bring down many more in its path. This same kind of obsession with buildings and power and money was evident in Jesus’ day. So much of King Herod’s reign was devoted to rebuilding the temple. So many tax dollars and so much slave labor went into those stone structures. And clearly Jerusalem had much invested in every way in her temple and in her surrounding walls. And that was why it was so shocking when Jesus envisioned the end of the temple, its destruction. When walking through the temple precincts, the disciples said, “What wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” And that is how Jesus responded, “The days will come when there shall not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.” Indeed, in his trial before the religious authorities Jesus was accused of saying that he would destroy the temple. The idea of such a magnificent building being destroyed was utterly scandalous. It would still be shocking if Jesus said something similar about any church building or our church building, or even our homes or our courthouse. We value these stones. But Jesus reminds us that life is not all about what you wear or what you eat or even what roof is over your head. Jesus insists that there is something more crucial, more important for your life than the brick and mortar about you. That is what we are reminded about when homes and buildings are destroyed by a tornado or a hurricane or a fire. Our lives count for so much more than the places in which we reside. Our spirits need so much more. That’s why Jesus insists that if the stones could speak they would hail him as the King who comes in the name of the Lord. The stones would join in praising the One who entered Jerusalem for our sakes. The One who offered himself for the salvation of the entire world. The One who gave himself for you. That is what the stones are called to bear witness to. Jesus comes hearing these words of acclamation, “Hosanna in the highest. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.” If we do not join in that praise, the very stones will. God’s praise will be sung. God’s grace will be acclaimed. God’s glory will be chanted. If not by us, then the very stones will cry out. So on this Palm Sunday, the stones present for us this option. Stones that are beautiful and lovely that could yet tumble to the ground. Or stones that cry out in praise to the Coming One. The stones can hem us in and restrict us and even bury us. Or the stones can teach us to praise the One who loved us and gave his life for us. The stones can fall down around us. Or the stones can lift us up in praise and adoration. The very stones challenge us. I invite you this day to take up your palms and join in the chorus of praise. A chorus of praise that unites us with his followers in Jerusalem and that great communion of saints who have always praised him and our brothers and sisters in our time who take up that praise-world without end. Join the very stones that praise him: “Hosanna! Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord? Blessed be he!” Amen.
THE THINGS THAT MAKE FOR PEACE Revelation 1: 4-8
In the Scriptures nothing is more political than apocalyptic literature. Apocalyptic literature is found in the book of Daniel, Mark 13 and its parallels, and the Book of Revelation. These writings are unapologetically political. They call into question political regimes in power at the time. The book of Daniel targets the Syria rulers who desecrated the temple almost two hundred years before Jesus. Daniel proclaims for anyone who would hear that the Syrian overlords would be overthrown. Jesus in Mark 13 proclaims that Rome will overthrow Jerusalem and destroy it. And John in the book of Revelation proclaims that Rome itself will someday fall, like Babylon of old. One could say that apocalyptic literature is revolutionary in the deepest sense. Daniel, Jesus, and John see that God is active and powerful in the affairs of nations and rulers. And they are certain that God is ultimately sovereign-the Lord of all nations. The God they trust will hold accountable every form of injustice and brutality. In our reading from John’s Apocalypse we hear about “Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” The resurrected Christ is indeed Lord of lords and King of kings. Because he is risen, he reigns over all the nations and rulers of the world. Our text further insists that the Risen One will come in power and “every eye will see him, even those who pierced him.” The ones who rejected Jesus will see him. The ones who continued his sufferings in this world will see him. And the text says, “On his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.” There is accountability. There is judgment. The Alpha and the Omega will have the last word. The One “who is and who was and who is to come” will surely prevail. In other words, the apocalyptic proclamation is intensely political. The rulers and nations of this world are indeed subject to him, the One who \"loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood.” The ruler of all the nations is the Suffering One who reigns forever, blessed be He. The rulers of this world are as nothing before him. He lives and reigns forever, the Risen One, the Resurrected Christ. That is the bold and astonishing claim of John, the seer on the Island of Patmos. Even though he was imprisoned and powerless, John was convinced he worshipped the One to whom alone belongs “glory and dominion forever and ever.” The church should never disavow this apocalyptic proclamation. If we are faithful to this proclamation, our message will inevitably be political. Our first leaders were executed by unjust regimes. Jesus and Peter and Paul lost their lives because of political injustice. And the pages of church history are red with the blood of the martyrs. Why? Because we never stop talking about Jesus, the “ruler of the kings of the earth.” As followers of Jesus we simply will resist any ruler who is unjust and brutal. We hear echoes of the nails being driven into the hands of Jesus whenever injustice and brutality persist. The sufferings of Jesus continue and so we suffer with those who are oppressed. That is why the church must protest abuse inflicted upon brothers and sisters for whom Christ died. In as much as it is done to one of the least of these, it is done to Jesus himself. And so we will not be silent. We must speak out against rulers who are unjust and brutal. Just as Daniel did. Just as Jesus did. Just as John of Patmos did. This morning I would like us to heed the call of last summer’s General Assembly. All 11,000 Presbyterian congregations were asked to join in a week of prayer and witness with Christians in the Middle East during the season between Easter and Pentecost of 2007. This morning we join with many other Presbyterians to lift our prayers for peace, for the things that make for peace in the Middle East. And we join our voices decrying the continuing injustice and brutality that plague the Middle East. As we all know, there are now two very active wars in the Middle East-Afghanistan and Iraq. These two wars began after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. There is also a low intensity war between Israel and the Palestinian people. That war really began in the 1930’s between Jewish immigrants and the native Palestinian people. There have been significant wars involving the Palestinians and their allies against Israel in 1948, 1967, and 1973. An intifida or Palestinian uprising erupted in 1987 and again in 2000. You recall that the Israeli army surrounded the headquarters of the Palestinian Authority in Ramallah in 2002. There has been an uneasy peace since then. At the heart of this conflict of course is land. Disputed land. Ancient land claimed by two very proud peoples-Palestinians and Jews. Land that has been fought over repeatedly since the book of Genesis. For both groups, this is sacred land, holy ground. In this land are sites holy to Jews, Muslims, and Christians. And because of that, emotions run very high and the memory of past transgressions runs very deep. The recent history of the land is particularly poignant. Palestinians have lost much of their homeland even as the Jewish people have reclaimed their homeland. Both sides have had refugees. Jewish refugees from the Holocaust and other places of persecution-especially Russia-fled to Israel as their new home. And now there are almost a million Palestinian refugees who have been displaced from their home. There are still numerous Palestinian refugee camps run by the United Nations. Both groups have strong theological convictions that tie them to the land. The third holiest site in the Muslim faith is the Dome of the Rock on the temple mount in Jerusalem. And ever so close to that site are the remaining stones from the Second Temple, no doubt the holiest site in the Jewish tradition. Within walking distance from those two holy sites is the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, a place sacred to Christians because of its association with the crucifixion of Jesus. Every inch of this ground is sacred to someone. Every inch of this ground is disputed and a cause for conflict. I tell you, when you go there, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end due to the electricity in the air. And that electricity has erupted into sparks and flames many times over. The memory of the attacks and counter-attacks hangs heavy on the land. And none of the violence-none of it-has brought us anywhere nearer to peace and justice. Now that land is divided by a barrier recently erected by the Israelis. It has been called many things. The Israelis call it a security fence and claim it is necessary to protect them from attacks. The Palestinians call it an imprisonment fence, a dividing wall, an apartheid wall. One section of the wall seals off the Gaza Strip and another cuts through the disputed West Bank, separating towns and villages. This wall has isolated and impoverished the Palestinians caught behind it. Since 2006 the United Nations and the American government have taken issue with this wall. In his book “Palestinian Peace Not Apartheid” former president Jimmy Carter has written, “The status of this barrier is a key to the future peace in the Middle East.” That wall cuts through disputed territory, land annexed by Israel after the 1967 war. I doubt seriously this wall will bring to Israel what is claimed for it-security. I do not believe this wall makes Israel a good neighbor. This wall only complicates the search for peace and justice. The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church has called for the removal of this separation barrier. We have considered divesting in the American corporations that helped construct it. This position caused a firestorm of criticism. Many of our Jewish friends were quite upset with us. But I believe our position is quite justifiable. That dividing wall is not just and it is not legal. It is wrong and it should be dismantled. It is an impediment to peace and justice. And I pray that the Israelis come to a change of heart about this policy. And I pray that the Palestinians for their part end the terrorism and accept Israel as its neighbor. The great hope of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church is that Israel will return to her 1967 border and that Jerusalem will be shared alike by Palestinians and Israelis. It is our hope that someday soon two sovereign nations-Israel and Palestine-will live side by side in peace and justice. The land issues and the refugee issues will be painful and difficult. Both sides will have to make costly compromises. The things that make for peace have always been costly. Jesus showed us that on a hill outside the walls of Jerusalem. The things that make for peace are costly sacrifices, indeed. Today I pray for the peace of Jerusalem and for the things that make for peace. And I pray that the deep hopes for peace shared by all people-Israelis, Palestinians, Arabs, Christians, Muslims, and Jews may not be in vain. May the children of Abraham learn, after all these millennia, to live in peace and justice. This is our prayer. May it be so. Amen.
WORSHIP THE LAMB Revelation 7: 9-17
Last fall during my Clergy Renewal Leave I was in worship every Sunday morning! Like postal carriers taking a walk on their day off, I found myself in worship every single Lord’s day! You may ask, What was I thinking? Well, I actually love worship. And there are times when I need to be a participant and not a leader. Last fall I had that marvelous opportunity. And for that I thank you and I thank God. I experienced a wonderful variety of worship venues. There were traditional Presbyterian services in Lexington, Kentucky and here at Covenant Presbyterian Church. I also experienced a festive anniversary service here at First Presbyterian and contemporary worship services at Sandia Presbyterian and at my seminary in Austin. And I was privileged to worship with our Presbytery at Ghost Ranch. In these services, it struck me once again that we are capable of innovating as well as maintaining our Reformed roots. And I saw that Presbyterians are still deeply committed to the proclamation of the Word in its many forms from music to liturgy to sermon. I am particularly grateful that I got to hear sermons from four of my colleagues in ministry here in Albuquerque. Then I worshipped in two mega-churches here in Albuquerque. That was different. What struck me in those venues was the emphasis upon entertainment in the music and the preaching alike. Chalk it up to my prejudices, but I did not find either service very entertaining. On the opposite end of the spectrum was the worship at Christ in the Desert Monastery. Those monastic services have all the earmarks of 13th Century era worship-with little or no entertainment value. Nevertheless, I suppose I prefer Gregorian chants to the mega-church worship. Call me strange, but that is just my preference! I also worshipped at a small Catholic parish in Oaxaca, Mexico, a city in the grip of a serious civil disturbance. The prayers that Sunday morning were for peace. But that very afternoon three people were killed when the National Guard stormed the occupied downtown area of Oaxaca. In every service we pray thy kingdom come knowing that we live in hope. Finally, I worshipped in three congregations that were quite different from one another: Covina United Methodist Church in suburban Los Angeles, A&M Church of Christ in College Station, Texas, and St. Paul Lutheran here in Albuquerque. Those Lutherans and Methodists had magnificent choirs, but the A&M church did not. However, the A&M church, with its long tradition of unaccompanied congregational singing, tried something quite challenging. They stood and sang the Hallelujah chorus from Handel’s Messiah! Amazing. Music with instruments and music without instruments is still quite glorious. For most of us, music is what makes worship, worship. And these three congregations-as well as all the others I attended-had plenty of music. A wide range of music. In those worship services God was praised and God was glorified. In word and in song. Thanks be to God. The book of Revelation has more liturgies, more poetry, and more music than almost any book of the Bible. Only the Psalms has more. Worship is at the heart of this apocalyptic vision of the future. I suppose large sections of the book of Revelation should be sung, not read. There should be music filling the air as we read from John’s vision of what is to be. Why is this book so filled with strange images of beasts and gloom and doom also filled with so many songs of praise? Because finally this vision given to John on the island of Patmos is about the coming victory of the Lord of the lords and the King of kings, the ruler of the universe. It is a song that assures victory, even in the midst of difficulty and struggle. This book anticipates the outcome of the struggle against evil. And that outcome is the victory of the Lamb of God. Our passage in Revelation 7 depicts a worship service in heaven. The scene is set before the throne of God and the Lamb of God, the One who was pierced and yet reigns victorious. A vast throng, so large no one could count, stand before the throne and wave their palm branches. The triumphant entry into Jerusalem has become the triumphant acclaim of the heavenly host. The multitude is from every nation and tribe and language. Pentecost is fulfilled and all the nations unite with one voice before the throne of God and the Lamb. They join in song, like a vast choir, Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb. Then they are joined by the angelic host and the elders and the four living creatures. So now heaven and earth are joined in praise. They fall on their faces and sing, Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen. And we are asked to bow before the throne and join the multitude from every nation along with the angelic host and the elders and the four living creatures. Everyone in heaven and on earth is invited to join the song of praise. Then John envisions that one of the elders asks him about those who are robed in white. And of course, John the seer cannot know the answer. And so he is told that those robed in white have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb and their robes have become white. Now this is a strange result, but remember this is a vision of what is to be. Before the throne of God and the Lamb we see amazing things, remarkable things. And here is what is most remarkable. Those who gave their lives, those whose blood was shed, are now robed in white. They have given their lives to the One who gave his life for them. And so their suffering is transformed and they join the vast throng that worships God and the Lamb world without end. Here worship takes seriously our sufferings and our struggles. Yet in the act of worship our sacrifices are transformed into joy, our struggles are transfigured in praise. Then the song of victory assures John the seer that those who have suffered will be renewed in worship: They will hunger no more and thirst no more. The sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat. How does this deliverance from struggle take place? Because the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd and he will guide them to springs of the water of life and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. The Lamb of God will end the suffering of those who were martyred for his sake. No more hunger or thirst. No more scorching sun. No more tears. All their sorrows soon be over at the springs of the water of life. The One who leads us beside still waters will now indeed restore our soul. This is a vision of splendor, a restoring of our soul, a healing of our bodies. It is worship at its very best. Here for me is the grand hope of our worship. We come together in the Spirit of Christ, the Lamb of God, where two are three are gathered in his name. Here we are offered an alternative vision of the world, a world suffering in a thousand different ways. And yet a world that is promised transformation, where we hunger and thirst no more, where every tear is wiped away from our eyes. And we see afresh the throne of God and the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. In short, worship is an act of adoration and imagination. We bow before the throne of God and the Lamb of God. And there we proclaim that God’s reign, though hidden from our eyes, is yet triumphant. We corporately acknowledge the struggle, but we insist that God is with us even still. This is a counter proposal to the gloom and the doom, the indifference and the hostility of a world that ignores her Maker. In worship we lift up our Maker and our Redeemer, the Lamb of God, and we praise him and glorify him. And we will not let go, because God’s love will not let us go. So we worship and adore the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Worship links us with a vast fellowship-the communion of saints, the angelic hosts, and Christians throughout the world. And that fellowship includes sisters and brothers here at St. Andrew, a company of God’s people with all our needs and our struggles. Worship calls us out of ourselves into a fellowship and a cause greater than ourselves. So today we join with that vast communion of saints, those who are wearing white robes to sing, Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb. We join the angelic host and the elders and the four living creatures and that vast throng from every nation and tribe, who worship saying, Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever. That is why we gather to worship. Thanks be to God. Amen. Back To the Top March 2007 March 4, 2007 Rev. Frank Yates THE FOX AND THE HEN Maybe you have not thought too much about Jesus and animals. I hadn’t either until the summer of 1994. That’s when I went to Israel. One day we visited the Mount of Olives just to the east of Jerusalem. Suddenly and without warning a herd-no kidding-a herd of donkeys blocked the path of our tour van. The herd was coming up from Bethany where an enterprising rancher raises donkeys. Why? So pilgrims can rent a donkey on Palm Sunday to ride across the Kidron Valley into Jerusalem. So go to Jerusalem on any Palm Sunday and thousands of pilgrims will be riding donkeys from Bethany into the City of David. The locals say it is quite a sight-bumper to bumper donkeys ridden by retired Presbyterians from Iowa! Young Arab boys are hired to throw palm branches in the path of the in-coming donkeys. Like Jesus who rode a donkey up to Mount Zion, lots of pilgrims go and do likewise. On the day I was on the Mount of Olives I got a huge laugh. An Arab guy walked up to us leading his camel. He asked if we wanted our picture taken atop his camel with Jerusalem in the background. And he insisted the price was \"mere pennies\"-a real bargain. We were reminded of the Magi who passed through Jerusalem on their way to offer homage to the newborn king in Bethlehem. No doubt riding their camels from afar. The reason I got such a huge laugh is that the camel driver and I were wearing exactly the same hat-a Dallas Cowboys hat! What are the chances? Now donkeys and camels are not the only animals associated with Jesus. Oh no! This past week I did a little research and came up with what I think is a comprehensive list of all the animals that are referenced in the Gospels. If I missed one, please let me know. According to my reckoning, the following animals show up in the Gospels: pigeons, doves, sheep, donkeys, goats, swine, serpents, dogs, wolves, oxen, cattle, fish and in our text this morning a fox and a hen. Now some of these are real animals. Like that donkey Jesus rode on Palm Sunday. Or the two doves and two pigeons that Joseph and Mary sacrificed in the Temple for Jesus as their first born son. Jesus cleanses the Temple and in so doing scatters the sheep and the cattle roaming about. There is the miraculous catch of fish where Peter’s boat is almost swamped from so many fish. And then in what surely must be the strangest story in the Gospels, Jesus cast evil spirits out of the Gerasene demoniac and these evil spirits enter a herd of some two thousand swine. This possessed herd of swine then plunges off a cliff into the Sea of Galilee and is drowned. I am not making this up. You can read about it in Mark 5. Aside from the real live animals, Jesus uses animal imagery all the time. No doubt his favorite animals are sheep. He tells his disciples he is sending them out into the villages like lambs in the midst of wolves. He warns his disciples to beware of ravenous wolves in sheep’s clothing. Jesus tells the Canaanite woman who begged him to help her daughter that he was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. She then responds that even the dogs get to eat the crumbs from the table. Jesus is distressed when he sees the crowd milling about and he notes that they are like sheep without a shepherd. He tells a parable about one lost sheep from a flock of one hundred that the shepherd goes and risks his life to save. Jesus then calls himself the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. He tells a graphic parable of the final judgment where there is a parting of the ways between the sheep and the goats. And finally the Risen Christ summons Peter to \"tend my sheep, feed my lambs.\" But that’s not all. Jesus in the Parable of the rich man and Lazarus has dogs licking the sores of poor Lazarus. Then Jesus warns us not to give what is holy to dogs and don’t give pearls to swine. He chastises the hypocrites who untie their oxen and donkeys on the Sabbath to lead them to water despite the rules against doing any kind of work. He admonishes us to be as wise as serpents and gentle as doves. He tells us that just as Moses lifted up the bronze serpent on a pole in the desert to heal the people, so the Son of Man will be lifted up and glorified. And then Jesus talks about a fox and a hen. No, it’s not the proverbial fox in the hen house. The Pharisees come to warn Jesus that King Herod Antipas wanted to kill him. So the Pharisees urge Jesus to leave Galilee or he will get the same treatment that Herod Antipas gave to John the Baptist-his head on a platter. Well, Jesus seems to have some pretty strong feelings about this tyrant who killed his cousin John. And so he says, \"Go and tell that fox, ‘Behold I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow and the third day I find my course. Nevertheless, I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem.\" In essence, Jesus says that Herod Antipas will not have the pleasure of killing him in Galilee, the district that Herod ruled. No, his date with destiny will take him to Jerusalem. Interestingly, only Luke tells us that Jesus appeared before Herod Antipas after his arrest in Jerusalem. Pilate sent Jesus to Herod since Jesus is from Galilee, Herod’s jurisdiction. Jesus would not so much as speak to Herod during that interrogation. So Herod treated him with contempt and put a purple robe around his shoulders mocking his claim to be a king. Yes, Herod proved to be a fox indeed, a crafty and sly ruler. To call someone a fox was not a compliment and Herod Antipas deserved none whatsoever. He was a treacherous and cruel ruler. Jesus had every reason to get out Dodge when he heard that Herod wanted to kill him. By the way, would you like to know the rest of the story? Herod Antipas would see his army defeated in 36 A.D. Then Emperor Caligula, that mad hatter, would banish Herod Antipas to France in 39 A.D. That sly old fox ended up banished and exiled. So I suppose there is some poetic justice there somewhere. Then our text ends with a lament. When Jesus notes that a prophet should not perish away from Jerusalem, he aligns himself with earlier prophets who suffered and died in the City of David. So he laments this city that was chosen by God to be a light to the nations. This city that harbored so much darkness, so much death, that risked such destruction. \"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you!\" Then Jesus, as was his custom, thought of animals. He offered this wonderful yet poignant image: \"How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings but you would not.\" Jesus describes himself as a mother hen who scurries to make sure her little brood is safe. It is a wonderful feminine image of God’s tender love and mercy. Jesus the mother hen, what a glorious image! But then he completes the metaphor with these dark words, \"But you would not.\" These are baby chicks that have rejected their mother. They have turned their backs on the one who would give them peace and safety. It is almost unthinkable, unheard of. But that is how Jesus sees the people of Jerusalem, oblivious to the One who would save them and redeem them. So he pronounces these forbidding words, \"Behold your house is forsaken.\" Your house is on the verge of collapse. Nevertheless, Jesus will reach out to them. He will come to them, seeking them out, the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Indeed, he will lay down his life for his sheep, even the sheep who would not welcome him. They will see him riding on that donkey into their midst to woo them, to love them, to convince them. And they will greet him with these words, \"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.\" Yes, they will see him come with palm leaves before his path, riding that donkey into the jaws of death. Yet, like a mother hen he would have gathered his brood under his wings. How he longed to gather this brood under his loving wings! Jesus still yearns to gather us under his loving wings. He is the
mother hen who loves us with a tender, everlasting love. He loves us with
a love that lays down his life for us. At this table, we celebrate this
love, the love of Christ Jesus our Lord, a love that redeems us and
transforms us and saves us. This morning I invite you to bask in his
love, in the shelter of his wings. May it be so. Amen.
THE CARE AND NURTURE OF YOUR SOUL Last week we talked about animals, specifically animals in the four Gospels. Several of you were good enough to point out to me that I overlooked at least two kinds of animals in the Gospels. I forgot that rooster that crowed twice as Peter denied Jesus three times as well as those fish that almost swamped Peter’s boat in what is called the miraculous catch of fish. Well, this week we move on to plants, specifically a fig tree. Only Luke has Jesus tell this parable, the parable of the unproductive fig tree. A man plants a fig tree in his vineyard and he waits at least three years for that tree to produce figs. But there is nothing, not any fruit. So he tells the vineyard keeper, \"Cut it down. Why should it use up the ground?\" In academia of course this would amount to \"publish or perish.\" Likewise, in the vineyard, it is produce or make way for another plant. But the vineyard keeper responds to the man, \"Sir, give it another year while I fertilize it and water it. Let’s see what happens. But next year if there are no figs, go ahead and cut it down.\" Now my good friends Randy Schultz and Joel Swadesh have shared some information with me about fig trees and for that I am grateful. First of all, I don’t think horticultural science is the point of this parable. But it would be unusual for a fig tree to be planted among a vineyard of grapes. Grapes love the full sunshine and a fig tree would block some of that sunlight. Second, fig trees can grow in moderately fertile soil with limited fertilizer, but in less fertile soil fertilizer is needed. Maybe that was the case in this parable. Third, in a vineyard there is competition for the nutrients in the soil and perhaps this fig tree needed more fertilizer and water. With just the right amount and not too much, there would be a chance the fig tree would become productive. So horticulturally speaking, this parable accurately depicts something Jesus could have observed in his lifetime. Now we don’t know the rest of the story. What did that fig tree do the following year? Good question. There is no answer. Maybe we supply the answer with our basic orientation toward life, especially our expectations and our hopes. If we assume that things never really change, then I suppose we figure that fig tree has had it. But if we believe that unexpected things are possible, then maybe we imagine eating figs off that tree the following year. I guess your perspective, should we call it your faith, does matter here. This parable tells us about a fig tree that had endured three years of barrenness. This reminds us of a difficult reality almost every Christian will face at one time or another. And that is a spiritual slump, an off season for the soul. No doubt, you know what it is like to go through a dry spell spiritually. A lean time, a sparse time, a hard time for your soul. Maybe you are struggling through such a time right now. It is hard to explain to someone else exactly what that feels like. God seems so distant and disconnected from your life. Your relationship with Christ seems oh so vague. Prayer seems flat and uninteresting. Worship becomes mere ritual without feeling. Even your relationships with the people you care about can be affected. You are as the old song says \"running on empty.\" I know many of you have been there. There have been times when I was \"running on empty.\" It’s three years without a fig. It’s a time without growth, often without joy. Thankfully, this parable suggests that there is hope for that barren fig tree. The vineyard keeper says, \" I will dig about it, water it, and put fertilizer on it and see what happens.\" In other words, that tree needs extra care and nurture. That tree requires special attention, all in the hope that a time of fruitfulness is possible. The tree is not cut down. The tree is cared for. And so we should care for our souls. We should nurture our spirit. During Lent we remind ourselves that the spiritual disciplines of the church are precisely to nurture our souls. Sometimes we simply need to go back to the basics, the nutrients that feed our souls. Let me ask you a couple of questions, not to make you feel guilty, but to make you feel hopeful. These questions are asked in the spirit of that vineyard keeper who refused to give up on that fig tree. And I think Christ refuses to give up on any of us, however unfruitful we may have been. So here are some questions concerning the care and nurture of your soul: When is the last time you read your Bible? Read it meditatively, read it expectantly, read it without interruption, seeking a living Word from God for your life? I don’t think the Bible is like Aladdin’s lamp where you rub it and a genie comes out to grant us three wishes. Rather the Bible is more like an ancient text that by the Spirit of God can still provide living water for your thirsty spirit. That is, if you read the right parts of it. I would suggest that during Lent you consider reading through Luke’s Gospel and then read on through volume two, Luke’s account of the early church-Acts. Read the Good News according to Luke of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And then the amazing tale of how the Spirit of the Risen Christ created and formed the church. Drink in again this astonishing story of something created out of nothing, a new creation. It’s a great story, the greatest story ever told. So here’s a simple question: will you let your soul drink in again the Good News-prayerfully, meditatively, quietly, expectantly? A novel idea indeed-the words of Scripture feeding your hungry spirit! A second question: When is the last time you really prayed to the living God? How about this: try praying again even if prayer has not been a significant part of your life. Take some long walks just by yourself and lay your life before the Lord. How it is going with your soul? Confess your shortcomings and your indifference and your hurts. Remember with gratitude the blessings of your life. Open your life to the One who loves you and gave himself for you. Reclaim your gifts and rediscover how God is calling you to use those gifts for others. In prayer let the Spirit of Christ refresh your inner being and rekindle your joy and your hope. A third question: What are you doing with your life? How about this? Do something with your life! Become more generous with your time and your treasure and your talents. Find a way to help someone older or younger who needs what you have to give. Reconnect with your friends. Reconnect with your church. Talk to people you have not talked to in any real way for a long time. Find a way to reach out to those who are different from you-different ethnically or politically or theologically or economically or educationally. Rekindle your curiosity about the world. Turn off the television or only watch programs that challenge you or build you up or make you glad to be alive. Do something different. Get out of that tired old rut that is simply a long, narrow grave. For the sake of Jesus Christ, do something with your life, something for others, something for the church, something for the world, something for the political system. As you know, I am not inclined to bark out orders to you as though I were some kind of general in charge of an army. I am rather more like a fellow pilgrim who is saying to you what I need to say to myself: immerse myself again in the Good News of Jesus Christ, pray without ceasing, and do something with my life. Use my gifts that have been so freely given to me for the sake of others. Remind myself that barren fig trees can bloom again to give their good gifts to the world. That is the underlying hope of this meditation on the parable of the fig tree. The firm hope that lean times can become by the grace of God fruitful times, joyful times, blessed times yet again. In that grand book Amazing Grace by Kathleen Norris she has a lovely essay entitled \"Detachment\". She tells the story of her husband David who entered into a deep depression, a depression so severe that he was hospitalized for several weeks. During his hospitalization, Kathleen learned that David had become so disoriented that he had canceled their medical insurance. So now they faced the prospect not only of mental illness but also bankruptcy. During this time of crisis Kathleen talked to a friend in New York City who asked her, \"What are you doing for yourself? Are you seeing a counselor? Did you get someone to give you a prescription for tranquilizers?\" Kathleen responded, \"No. I’m OK. I have been praying the psalms.\" Her friend asked her incredulously, \"And that’s enough?\" And this is what Kathleen said: \"The funny thing is that is was enough. I was not praying the psalms alone but with Benedictine nuns. They had graciously taken me into their small convent near the hospital, offering me a guestroom for as long as I needed it. There is no way I can measure the help they gave me. Not the least of it was providing my first occasion for laughter in many days.\" During her husband’s stay in the hospital she had the opportunity to visit with one of the Benedictine sisters. They talked about that season of the year, which happened to be Lent. This sister had decorated the convent with spring flowers and lively colors. She explained, \"Most of my life I have thought of Lent in terms of self-denial. Now I still fast but my reasons for fasting have changed. Now I think of Lent as a time of waiting and burgeoning hopes.\" In the fellowship of wonderful Benedictine sisters, her pastor, her church family, her extended family and friends, and a very helpful attorney, Kathleen Norris got through this difficult Lenten journey. And so did her husband David. Her soul was fed daily by the praying of the psalms, the fellowship of sisters and brothers in Christ, and that \"burgeoning hope\" that expects even the barren fig tree to bloom yet again. The care and nurture of your soul is a matter of the utmost
importance. Whatever condition your soul is in, remember this: it can
bloom and blossom and flourish yet again. This is our burgeoning hope.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
THE PARABLE OF THE FORGIVING FATHER Luke 15:1-2, 11b-32
In 1983 Henri Nouwen, the famous Catholic spiritual writer, was in the village of Trosly, France. He was spending a few months at L’Arche, a community for people with mental handicaps. Nouwen had just completed a six-week long lecture tour across the United States speaking out against the violence in Latin America. He came to L’Arche physically and spiritually depleted. In his own words, Nouwen was “anxious, lonely, restless and very needy.” In a word, he was tired, very tired. One of his co-workers there, Simone Landrien, invited Nouwen into her office. On the door a large poster was pinned. It was a reproduction of Rembrandt’s masterpiece, The Prodigal Son. When Nouwen first saw the poster, he said, “I could not take my eyes away. I felt drawn by the intimacy of the picture, the old man touching the boys’ shoulders. That picture reached me in a place where I had never been reached before.” At first Nouwen said that the he identified with the boy, since he too was “exhausted from his long travels.” Describing the impact of the picture upon him Nouwen noted, “It represents the ongoing yearning of the human spirit, the yearning for a final return, an unambiguous sense of safety, a lasting home.” Three years later Nouwen had resigned his teaching position at Harvard and had decided to join the L’Arche community in Toronto. Before going to Toronto he was invited to tour the Soviet Union with friends. They made plans to visit Saint Petersburg to see the Hermitage, the world famous art museum. Housed in the Hermitage is Rembrandt’s original painting of The Prodigal Son. So on Saturday, July 26,1986, at 2:30 in the afternoon Henri Nouwen saw for the first time Rembrandt’s rendition of our text from Luke 15. Nouwen describes his sense of amazement at the sheer size of the painting, eight feet tall and six feet wide. For two hours Nouwen stared in wonder and awe at this magnificent oil painting. Five days later Nouwen returned to the Hermitage and this time sat in a chair staring at the painting for another four hours. Needless to say, it was a transformative moment. When he left, he vowed never to be without a reproduction of Rembrandt’s painting. So when he arrived in Toronto, the first thing he did was to hang a reproduction of that painting in his office. It was that painting that inspired Nouwen to write his wonderful book The Return of the Prodigal Son. It was my great pleasure to read it while on Clergy Renewal Leave. It was one of the best books I read during my three-month absence from you. Nouwen suggests that we are invited to identify with all three of the parable’s main characters: the prodigal son, the elder son, and finally the father. It is easy to see why Nouwen at first identified with the prodigal, the prodigal limping home from a far country as Nouwen was limping back after traveling all across the United States. Both were depleted and in need. It is odd that Rembrandt himself may have felt the same way as he painted this picture, one of his last. At the end of his life Rembrandt was lonely and poor and depleted. In his youth he had lived with self-confidence, fame, and arrogance. As a painter he made a lot of money and he spent a lot even more. And through it all, he was a man exceedingly hard to get along with, filled with resentments and often a desire for revenge. But for all his gains there were many loses-he lost his beloved wife, three sons, and two daughters. He then had an unhappy affair, after which the woman was committed to an insane asylum and there died. Another woman with whom he was in a relationship also dies. He is involved in countless lawsuits and conflicts with others. His popularity as a painter plummeted and he ends up essentially bankrupt, his paintings sold to pay off his many debts. Yet thankfully in his fifties Rembrandt experienced a modicum of peace. He began to view the human condition with a more penetrating, sympathetic eye. He had suffered much and now he began to paint the more spiritual dimensions of life, the heartaches and heartbreaks. When at the end of his life he paints the prodigal son, he no doubt felt like he had been on a long journey. At age 63 Rembrandt is the broken young man, on his knees, craving his father’s warm embrace. He is the prodigal come home. Nouwen says that though much of the attention of this parable and indeed the painting is focused on the prodigal son, we must not forget the older son. In the parable he stands over against his father and brother in every sense of the word. He is censorious and aloof, angry and resentful. Nouwen admits that as a young man he too often felt like the elder brother. He had indeed been the oldest child in his family and he often resented his younger siblings and what they “got away with”. Nouwen admits that he, like many dutiful children, often disguised his anger and resentment. For the elder brother, it is a bitter pill indeed to see his younger brother receive such a lavish welcome. And so his anger and resentment gush out in these words, “For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him.” As Nouwen notes, in this moment of bitter invective the elder brother “no longer has a brother; nor any longer a father.” Perhaps the most difficult conversion of all is the conversion of the self-righteous elder brother. And yet his conversion is just as important as that of his younger, more lustful brother. Now the real hero of this parable is, of course, the forgiving father. He lets his young son leave even though it must have broken his heart. He did not rescue him even from a bad decision. He let his son taste the world with all its adventures and all its tragedy. And when his son returned, he treated him like he was indeed his son. “This son of mine was dead and now he is alive; he was lost and now he is found!” And he called for the best robe in the house and a ring for his finger and sandals for his bare feet. And he had the fatted calf barbecued and the merry making began. My son who was lost is found! My son who was dead is now alive! So this father embraces with love unconditional his son who ran away and his son who never ran away. His forgiveness extends to both equally-the kid who threw away everything he had and the kid who claimed he never got enough from his father. He forgives them and embraces them and invites both of them-as unworthy as they are-into a celebration of homecoming. Nouwen came to realize something important after many years of spiritual work and transformation, after many years of contemplating Rembrandt’s painting. He came to see that there is a “call beyond the call to return”. That is, the point of this parable is not just the return of the prodigal and the return of the elder brother to the party-as important as that is. The real point of the parable is to become like the father, the forgiving, compassionate father. Listen to Nouwen’s words: “When I first saw Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son, I could never have dreamt that becoming the repentant son was only a step on the way to becoming the welcoming father. I now see that the hands that forgive, console, heal and offer a festive meal must become my own hands. Becoming the Father is for me the surprising conclusions to all my reflections on Rembrandt’s painting.” In other words, Nouwen challenges us to claim our “fatherhood”-that is, claim the role of the forgiving, compassionate father. Our hands need to embrace and forgive even as God has embraced and forgiven us. That is the ultimate summons of this Parable, the story of a forgiving father who reaches out just as passionately to his prodigal child as he does to his self-righteous child. To be compassionate as God is compassionate-that is the challenge of this painting. To be compassionate as God is compassionate-that is the challenge of this parable. May God grant us compassionate and forgiving hearts. So be it. Amen.
RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS John 12:1 -8
For a moment, use your imagination. You are in Bethany, a tiny village just to the east of Jerusalem. It is a town still abuzz about one of its very own, Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. It is but six days before the Passover, Israel\'s high holy day. Galilee\'s most famous rabbi has come for dinner. The invited guests are Jesus, Lazarus, Mary, Martha, Judas Iscariot, and no doubt other followers of Jesus. The air hung thick with suspense, since Jesus was a wanted man. Indeed.. the religious authorities had issued an all points bulletin for his arrest. Jesus and the one he loved, Lazarus, are reclining around the table. As usual, Martha is serving the food. You remember that Martha was the chair of the fellowship committee, the queen of the kitchen. Perhaps she was still put out with her sister Mary who had insisted upon listening to Jesus when everyone else was busy serving the meal. As usual, Mary can not be found in the kitchen. Once again, Mary is doing the one thing needful, the thing most needed at the time. Mary comes to the table where Jesus is reclining with his friends. She kneels before Jesus, as she had knelt before him on the road to Bethany with Lazarus dead and buried. Mary looked up and said, \"Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.\" Now, she kneels before Jesus and says nothing. She simply opens a jar of costly perfume made from real nard. The whole house is quickly filled with the fragrance of the perfume. Mary takes the perfume and anoints Jesus\' feet. She even wipes his feet with her hair. It is a poignant act, an extravagant act of kindness. She, no doubt, thinks of it as a kind of foot washing. Foot washing was a gracious art of hospitality shown to a tired guest who has walked in sandals over the dusty roads of Israel. Just days later Jesus will himself wash his disciples\' feet in an upper room. But Mary does not use water on Jesus’ feet. She uses expensive perfume made from pure nard, something unheard of. And why this lavish display of affection? Could it be her enormous gratitude to Jesus, the One who had called her brother Lazarus from the grave? Hers is an extravagant gratitude to the One who gives life, the One who is the resurrection and the life. To the One who gave abundant life to her brother, she now gives. But Judas Iscariot just doesn\'t get it. He doesn\'t get it at all. Judas reacted as did Simon the Pharisee who earlier was shocked when a prostitute took the feet of Jesus, kissed them, anointed them with perfume, and wiped them with her hair. Yes, Judas is scandalized or so it seems. He asks rather petulantly, \"Why was this perfume not sold and the money given to the poor?\" If the truth were known, Judas\' concern for the poor is paper thin. But his greed is transparent. A crooked treasurer, he just wanted to get his hands on the money. Soon enough Judas will get his hands on some blood money-thirty pieces of silver. Judas never did seem to get it. What Judas missed was this: at that table in Bethany Jesus was the quintessential poor man. He was the One who had no place to lay his head, no possessions to call his own. Throughout his ministry, Jesus remained utterly dependent upon the kindness of strangers and friends. The book of Deuteronomy reminded Israel to give liberally and ungrudgingly to the needy: \"Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.\" At that table in Bethany Mary gave liberally, even extravagantly, to the One who though he was rich became poor for our sake. Then Jesus, the quintessential poor man, rebukes Judas and all his ilk \"Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” Jesus sees a deeper significance to Mary\'s extravagance. It is not just her generosity to the poor, as significant as that is. One can always be generous to the poor since they are a permanent fixture in any society. In fact, in Mark\'s account of this scene, Jesus says, \"You always have the poor with you, and whenever you will, you can do good to them.\" Her goodness to the quintessential poor man, Jesus himself, is a gesture we can always imitate. Whenever we will, whenever we want to, whenever we are moved by compassion. And whenever we are so moved, Jesus reminds us that we are caring not just for the least of these. We are actually caring for Jesus himself. Just so, Mary\'s act of caring goes far beyond what she intended. Unknowingly, Jesus says, Mary has anointed him in advance for his burial. Sitting beside Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead, Jesus is now anointed in advance of his own death. Little did Mary know that her costly perfume anointed Jesus for his costly sacrifice. Little did any of them know that within the week Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus would anoint Jesus\' lifeless body with a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes. Mary\'s act of gratitude was in fact a prophetic act. Only Jesus at that moment could have understood the profound significance of her extravagance. That\'s the way it is with acts of kindness. They seem so random at the time, so haphazard, so unplanned. But what profound significance they hold. Maybe that\'s why the billboards across town urge us to \"commit a random act of kindness.\" How life-changing such acts of kindness can be. One could say that every random act of kindness recalls and celebrates what Mary did at Bethany. Every act of random kindness is, in fact, done to Jesus himself. Let me tell you two stories about random acts of kindness. Just this past week Rev. Ron Holmes, who was the associate pastor at Westminster in Amarillo, told me this story. One day Ron was driving along a busy street in Austin. He noticed that a driver could not turn out of a driveway into the street, since the traffic was so stacked up. So Ron, being the nice guy that he is, slowed down and motioned the driver in. The driver waved a friendly \"thank you\". Then Ron noticed that one of Austin\'s finest was behind him in the traffic jam. Right past an intersection, the police officer turned on the lights, and motioned Ron over. Ron thought to himself, \"What have I done now?\" Maybe he had some other thoughts he didn\'t share with us. The officer asked for Ron\'s license and insurance. When Ron showed him his papers, the officer said, \"Well. I have a surprise for you.\" He handed Ron a voucher for $50. Yes, a voucher for $50! Ron couldn\'t believe his eyes: \"Why?\" The officer replied, “I saw you let that car in front of you in that traffic jam. An insurance company has authorized the police to give $50 vouchers to anyone who drives especially friendly and with great courtesy. I thought your action was quite good, Thanks for being a friendly driver,\" And then the officer got back in his squad car and drove off. Ron was left speechless. It was a random act of kindness. A second story. In 1966 I was in Amsterdam, a marvelous city in the Netherlands. In this beautiful city with so many canals, I visited late one afternoon the house where Anne Frank and her family hid from the Nazis. This Jewish family feared for their lives and so went into hiding with the help of friends from 1942 until 1944. Finally, the family was discovered and Anne probably died of typhus in a concentration camp. As you know, Anne Frank kept a diary of her experiences which became the basis for a wonderful play and movie. It so happens that inside the house I met three Jewish school teachers from New York City. Together we went through the poignant exhibit with its many photographs and artifacts. It is a deeply moving experience, especially when you realize how cramped their quarters were. You come away profoundly moved by the courage of their friends who hid them away. But mainly you come away deeply saddened by the insanity of it all, the madness that gripped Nazi Germany, the evil that hung over Europe like a plague. At closing time we finally made our way out of the house. My three Jewish friends and I walked across the street and sat down on a park bench overlooking the canal. We were all four stunned into silence. What was there to say? It was as though we had been to a funeral of a good friend, a beautiful teenager with a love for life. We sat there motionless in the evening stillness. It was hard not to cry. And then we heard a car stop behind us. We all turned around to see a long, sleek Mercedes Benz. A very handsome man in his 40\'s got out and introduced himself as - you guessed it - \"Hans\". In perfectly good English he explained that he had seen us sitting there, and he guessed that we had just come out of the Anne Frank house. When we acknowledged that we had indeed, this is what he said, \"Almost every day after work I drive along this street and see people sitting on this bench. And every day I assume that they are collecting their thoughts after going through the Anne Frank house. And tonight I decided to stop and do something to lift your spirits. So may I, as a citizen of Amsterdam, offer to take all four of you to dinner?” The four of us looked at each other as though we were dreaming, A perfect stranger in a foreign country stopped to lift our spirits by inviting us to dinner. Maybe we felt like mourners who had just been offered a bite to eat after a funeral. Or maybe we instinctively felt the safety in our numbers. But something about his offer seemed so genuine that we answered almost in unison, \"Yes, thank you. We\'d love to.\" That began one of the loveliest evenings of my life. The five of us hit it off beautifully. Hans turned out to be a charming and sophisticated businessman who loved people. He took us to an elegant restaurant and we had the best of the best. Then we went to a nightclub where a wonderful singer entertained us in several languages. Hans was the perfect host. At about midnight he took us to our hotels and dropped us off. He never asked for anything in return. It was simply his gift, he said, for some people who needed their spirits lifted. It was a night like no other I have ever experienced before or since. It was a once in a lifetime event. What extravagance Hans displayed. To this day, I do not believe he did what he did for ulterior motives. We were simply strangers that he befriended. Then he disappeared as mysteriously as he appeared. It was a random act of kindness. Mark ends his account of the anointing at Bethany with these words: \"Truly I say to you, wherever the Gospel is preached in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.\" Today we remember with gratitude and joy the extravagant love of Mary for her Lord. Today we remind ourselves that every act of extravagant love means more than we can ever know or imagine. Every random act of kindness is done ultimately for our Lord. Friends in Christ, I urge you this week to be extraordinarily generous, to commit random acts of kindness. Do it for the sake of Christ our Lord. Thanks be unto God. Amen.
Back To the Top February 2007 February 4, 2007 Rev. Frank Yates GRACE ENERGIZES Why do I do what I do? What really prompts me and motivates me to act as I do? To use common phrases, what turns me on or pushes my button or gets my juices flowing? A thousand surface reasons may motivate my behavior, but this morning I want us to consider the real reasons why we do what we do. When no one else is looking and I alone enter into the secret chambers of my own heart, I need to ask myself, \"In truth, just exactly why do I do what I do?\" A theology professor at the Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary lectures addressed that question this past week. He examined four different ways of explaining our basic motivations. First, there is the fundamental drive for survival, a very basic motivation indeed. Second, there is what Nietzsche called \"the will to power\", the drive to have control over our environment. Third, there is what Freud called \"the will to pleasure\"…the drive to avoid pain and maximize enjoyment. Fourth, there is what Viktor Frankl called \"the will to meaning.\" Using Frankl\'s experiences in Nazi concentration camps during the Second World War, this lecturer suggested that we seem driven to find meaning for our lives-no matter how difficult our circumstances. Frankl noted that those with a desire to find meaning even in the concentration camps tended to survive, and those who saw no meaning in their sufferings tended to lose hope and die. So why do I do what I do? Of course, our motives are almost always mixed. We do things for many different reasons, if we are honest with ourselves. We can be simultaneously driven by a desire for survival, a desire for power, a desire for pleasure, a desire for meaning, as well as other desires. Like an onion, it\'s hard to peel off just one layer, our motivations seem so overlapping and interconnecting. And so we can hardly escape some form of guilt or shame, simply because we know that we are never driven by pure motives. Purity of heart is an elusive goal, indeed. So why do I do what I do? How hard it is to answer that question honestly and courageously. Most of us would rather follow the advice of those ever present cultural copouts, which tell us: \"Why ask why?\" and, \"Just do it!\" Once a minister friend of mine told me that one day he reflected on how his wife helped motivate him in the ministry, Again and again the thought raced through his mind, \"She loves me, she loves me, she loves me! Me, with all the skeletons in my closet! Me, with a all my ugliness and 2 selfishness! She loves me!\" What a wonder it is to be loved, individually and personally, without conditions, without reservations! Loved, every hair on your head. Loved, every year of your life. Loved, every place along your pilgrimage. Such love- -what inspiration, what motivation! It was that way for Paul. He knew Christ loved him, even him. As he reflected on his life, he know himself to be completely unworthy, one untimely born\"--born out of synch, born a child of his age with all its prejudices and blindness. Indeed, the young Saul, so full of zeal, so determined to do the right thing, ended up persecuting the church of God, that is, Christ himself. So he considered himself unfit to be an apostle, the least of all the apostles. He knew he was a \"Johnny -come-lately\", the one who fell blinded on the road to Damascus when the Risen Lord stopped him in his tracks. Paul understood that he had received God\'s unmerited favor and kindness. In a word, Paul recognized that God in Christ Jesus had made a special exception for him. Why? Because he was chosen to be an apostle to the Gentiles, he, the devout Jew, so full of himself, so full of antipathy toward the Gentiles. What a wonder, he, of all people, he with all this baggage. What love, what kindness, what grace! So Paul sums up the meaning of his new life in Christ with these memorable words, \"But by the grace of God I am what I am.\" That\'s the first part of Paul\'s realization. Nothing that he is or has or has done is of his own doing, it is all gift, all by the grace of God. So what exactly is God\'s grace? It is something for nothing. It is God\'s open hands reaching out to us in love, like the hands of the father who embraces the returning prodigal child on the road, like a mother who caresses her infant, so helpless and dependent. My first call after seminary was to First United Presbyterian Church of Las Cruces, New Mexico. Over sixteen years ago I went west full of gratitude for an opportunity to work in the church. Not long after I arrived there something happened in Las Cruces that gave new meaning to the phrase \"but for the grace of God.\" One cold day a newborn infant wrapped in old blankets was found abandoned in the desert east of the city, toward the Organ Mountains. This tiny baby boy was rushed to the hospital and nursed to health. The nurses showered this child with enormous love and affection. For that child even to survive was purely a matter of grace. His life was given to him by God and within twenty -four hours it was given back to him. That\'s grace! 1 am reminded of a story told by the prophet Ezekiel. In chapter 16 Ezekiel describes Judah as a baby girl thrown out on the bare ground on the day of her birth. She was completely exposed. Ezekiel describes this infant child as naked and filthy, crying helplessly in the desert sand. Then God, with infinite mercy, reached down and embraced her and nursed her back to health. That\'s grace! So Paul remembered that he had been totally helpless and dead in his sins, like an infant exposed in the sand. Then the risen Christ, on that desert road to Damascus, reached out in love and forgave him and gave him a new life. Paul could never forget God\'s astounding display of grace in his own life. Paul surely understood Jesus\' description of God\'s grace: \"Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put in your lap.\" That\'s grace! The second part of Paul\'s realization about his life is found in these words: \"\'His grace toward me was not in vain, for I labored more than all of the other apostles, yet not 1, but the grace of God within me.\" Here Paul describes what really drives him and motivates him, what gets his juice flowing. Quite simply, it is the grace of God that stirs within him and sends him out into the highways and by-ways of his world. I am reminded of that play on words in the German language. Because of the \"Gabe\" we have an \"Afgabe\". As we would say in English: because of the gift, we have a task. Or we could say that the indicative precedes the imperative. The indicative mood declares to us, \"You are saved by grace.\" The imperative mood declares to us, \"Now respond to that grace with gratitude and act like you have been saved.\" This is God\'s grace guiding and inspiring my actions, Gods grace working itself out in my life. If you know yourself to have been spared when rescued from the desert sand, you will never think of your life as your own. You are not your own, you have been bought with a price. And so you will always think of your life as a gift. And you will think of your life\'s work as an expression of gratitude to the one who saved you. All that you do will be motivated by this basic feeling of gratitude-- I was lost, but now am found. Now I want to help others to find themselves. If there are other children exposed to suffering and disease, I want to find them and help them, If there are other lost sheep, I want to seek them out. Why? Because I know what it is like to be exposed and lost. I have been there. That\'s what motivated Paul to \"work harder\" than any of the other apostles, a claim some would find self-serving, if not arrogant. But I think Paul wants us to understand why he did what he did. He felt highly motivated by God\'s grace. He felt energized by grace. He felt God\'s grace welling up within him and constantly refreshing his spirit and restoring his drive and his energy. At the end of this chapter on the resurrection of Christ in I Corinthians 15, Paul concludes by saying, \'But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your work is not in vain in the Lord.\" In these words we hear of gratitude that moves us to keep up our spirits in the work of healing and helping and giving for the sake of Christ. Why? Because we know our work is not in vain in Christ. Here our motivation derives from our hope, knowing that the grace of God is ultimately victorious and triumphant. Grace abounds even now and only grace will abound in the end. That hope keeps us motivated in the work of Christ. That hope gives meaning to our efforts for Christ. That hope gives meaning to all our efforts on behalf of Christ. You may remember Rev. Carroll Abbing\'s book \"But for the Grace of God.” It tells of this Catholic priest\'s work during and after World War I I establishing homes for war orphans in Italy. He tells of an Italian surgeon who was summoned to a woman\'s home to perform emergency surgery on an Allied soldier she was hiding from the Nazis. Had he been caught, the doctor would have been executed. Nevertheless, he performed the surgery. As the woman profusely thanked him for his courage and attempted to pay him, this Italian surgeon brushed aside her compliments and said, \"One does not risk one\'s life for thanks or for a fee.\" Indeed, we do not give our lives into the service of Jesus Christ for thanks or a fee. We give our lives into Christ’s service, because Christ first loved us and gave himself for us. God\'s grace motivates and inspires us, we who know we were lost but now are found. God\'s grace energizes us. God\'s grace inspires us to carry on. So we will be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord. And this table will feed our spirits in the good hope that grace will ultimately triumph. Thanks be to God. Amen.
RESURRECTION PEOPLE It’s not been a great week in the Yates household. On Tuesday evening our two dogs got into Walker’s bedroom and overturned the chinchilla cage. Walker’s two pet chinchillas, Alfalfa and Nibbles, were mauled to death. This was particularly difficult for Walker-not to mention his parents. I had just read Rabbi Michael Gold’s essay on the family in which he said and I quote, \"Horses do not need Yom Kippur-that is, a Day of Atonement.\" That may be true for horses, but can I think of two dogs that definitely need a Day of Atonement. Then Wednesday morning I woke up feeling quite awful. Flu like symptoms sent me straight back to bed. Not the best way to celebrate one’s 59th birthday! But that was not the worst of it. That came later in the day. We got word that Sharon’s twenty year old nephew Justin McFalls was in the hospital on life support. It is not yet clear what happened but it appears that it was a drug overdose. Justin is still in critical condition. Please know we have really appreciated your prayers and your expressions of concern. So it is good to come to church today to share our struggles with you our sisters and brothers in Christ. No doubt many of you had some hard times this week as well. Coming to church at the close of a difficult week is hopefully comforting for you as it is for us. Or coming to church may seem strangely disconnected with what you have been experiencing. Maybe it is a little of both. Church is where you hear words not often spoken in the midst of your hectic and sometimes painful week. Words of faith call to our attention realities that uphold us, mysteries that surround us, even in the worst of times. Especially is this so when we make claims about our identity as children of God. Today I want to make this astonishing claim: we are Resurrection People, folks who live by the spirit of the Resurrected Christ. That may seem to be quite a stretch when beloved pets are senselessly destroyed and your health suddenly crumbles and your nephew winds up on life support. Not to mention the suffering in hospitals from Baghdad to Tokyo to Albuquerque and everywhere else in between. But maybe that is when it is most important to make this improbable claim: we are Resurrection people. In fact, in I Corinthians 15 Paul insists that nothing is more important than this: Christ is risen. If that’s not true, everything we believe, everything we hope for evaporates. Paul says that if Christ is not risen, we of all people are the most pitiable. We are subjects of a massive hoax. And we are perpetrating an unforgivable scam, based on a life and an illusion. If Christ is not risen, we have bought snake oil and then sold snake oil for two thousand years. But, and I say this carefully, if this claim is true-Christ is risen-then everything changes. Then the hope we proclaim, the faith we embrace rests on a powerful mystery, an inexplicable surprise. From a place of state sponsored terrorism-precisely from there the light shines in the darkness. From a place of abandonment and confusion and death-precisely from there good news of a great joy. He is alive! No one can say how, no one should ever presume to know how. We simply trust that something explosive and earth shattering emerged from that tomb and he lives. Jesus’ resurrection unleashes a spirit of life into the world, what Paul calls \"a life giving spirit\". This is an utterly unexpected intervention into the normal scheme of things. God, who sent a spirit of life into a lifeless corpse, sends that same spirit of life into our needy lives. So that graveyard became a fountainhead bubbling up into eternal life. The Risen Lord says no to nothingness and despair and death. The Risen Lord calls forth life where there has been only a formless void. And so we bear the image of the Risen Christ. His image exudes life, affirmation, hope, and joy. To be stamped with the image of the Risen Christ is to say yes to life. It is to live in hope. Lately I have been thinking a lot about hope. I was reminded of a conference I once attended entitled, \"The Centrality of Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling.\" The speaker was Dr. Andrew Lester, a pastoral care professor at Brite Divinity School in Forth Worth. He convinced me that hope is at the heart of the healing process. Dr. Lester also helped me better understand the difference between hoping and wishing. For Dr. Lester, wishing is really a form of hopelessness. He defined wishing as building an altar to what might have been. Despondent clients often express their wishes with this phrase \"only if\". You know how that works: \"If only I had married someone else.\" \"If only I had a different job.\" \"If only a certain bill would pass this legislature.\" To live in a world of \"if only\" is to live a kind of wistful despair. Dr. Lester noted that nagging could be another form of wishing. Nagging is often an expression of powerlessness and hopelessness. Naggers never expect their constant complaints to be heard. Nagging is truly a kind of whistling in the dark, hopeless whining. Dr. Lester contrasted nagging with pastoral intervention, where families and couples come face to face with their problems. Such an honest confrontation is based on the hardheaded hope that people can and do change. Hope involves facing the difficult issues before us and moving toward a better future. Hope underpins the possibility of any real change. Hope gives us courage to face the truth and to pray without ceasing. Hoping is not wishing. Hope thrives on a spirit of life that infuses the world, a spirit emerging from the resurrection of Jesus. Hope is convinced that from even the darkest places, like tombs of crucified rebels, new life emerges. Hope is not just wishful thinking: \"I wish I may, I wish I might.\" Hope is grounded solidly in a resurrection faith, a faith that confesses: \"He is alive. Utterly imaginable things are possible. And so I will live in hope.\" Indeed, I will live in hope and endure illness, disease, and whatever sufferings come my way. I will live in hope when senseless tragedies happen and children’s hearts are broken. I will live in hope when young men fall prey to despair and substance abuse. I will live in hope when war needlessly sacrifices the lives of so many children, women, and men. Because this is what I believe. Sinners can be saved. Addictions can
be broken. Liars can learn to tell the truth. Swords can be beaten into
plowshares. The illiterate can learn to read. Old destructive habits can
be conquered. The indifferent can learn to care. Those with plenty can
share with those who have little. Enemies can become friends. And the
dead can be resurrected. And even death, that last enemy, can and will
become a distant memory. This is what Resurrection People believe. This
is our hope. Thanks be to God. Amen.
WITHOUT MASKS I have watched with real interest the contemporary debate regarding veils, specifically veils worn by some Muslim women. Of course, that was a huge issue when the Taliban controlled Afghanistan. Women were not allowed in public without veils. Even now the debate continues in virtually every Muslim society about women wearing veils. And of course this debate has spilled over into European countries. You recall that France decided recently that Muslim women could not wear veils in public schools. Amazing the power of a veil to make some people uncomfortable. So how about you? How would you feel about women wearing veils on the streets of Albuquerque? It raises a lot of cultural and religious issues, doesn’t it? We must not forget that the apostle Paul in I Corinthians 11 urged women in the public assembly to put a veil over their heads \"on account of the angels\", whatever that means. I remember well the church of my childhood where women would not be caught dead in worship without a hat-the contemporary version of the veil. Now of course there are lots of ways to wear veils in our society. I think of all those police officers who wear sunglasses as though it were part of their uniforms. In fact, sunglasses are the veil of choice not only for cops but also for celebrities and criminals. Now when handcuffed higher ups are paraded on those \"perp walks\", it is interesting that the FBI agents often wear sunglasses and the accused has his coat pulled over his face. There are all sorts of ways to wear veils or masks. Perhaps the most common, though, are those \"smiling faces\" that so many of us wear in public. Never mind how we are really feeling, the \"smiling face\" becomes our public mask. So what does a veil or a mask do? Clearly it intends to cover up something, to disguise someone’s real identity. A person with a veil or a mask does not want to be recognized. You recall that in early Greek theater different characters wore different masks. That mask was called a \"persona\". Later when the church was looking for an analogy to describe the Trinity, the orthodox formulation became \"One God in three persons\", or more correctly, three personae. One God wearing three masks-Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The God who is concealed from us in infinite light or deepest darkness-take your pick-is hidden from us and wears a mask. Maybe that is why the Scriptures remind us that no one has seen God. The mask of God remains intact. But what if for a brief moment the mask is partially removed and we get a glimmer, a fleeting glimmer, of what God is like? That happened to Moses as he talked with God on the mountaintop. When Moses returned his face was shining and the people were afraid. So Moses put a veil over his face to alleviate their fears. On the mountaintop, Peter, James, and John get a fleeting glimpse of the divine presence surrounding Jesus. In that moment of Transfiguration the appearance of Jesus’ face changes. His clothes become dazzling white. And the disciples saw his glory. Nothing here implies the faces of the disciples began to shine as Moses’ face had before. But it is clear that something inside of them had changed. And that is what Paul brings out in II Corinthians. For Paul, to behold the Christ in all his glory is to have the veil removed from our eyes. We begin to see Christ as he really is. And we bow in adoration and praise. So Paul writes this wonderful line: \"And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.\" We come face to face with the Lord who is the Spirit and we are transformed. The mask, the veil, has been removed from our eyes and we see the One who is the source of our life. In that moment of transformation we experience true freedom. As Paul says, \"Now the Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.\" No more masks. No more veils. No more shame. Authentic and lasting freedom in Christ means this: I have nothing to hide. I have been freed in Christ from my inhibitions and my fears, my shame and my secrets. All that has been jettisoned from my life and I am free. I don’t need any make up or sunglasses or special pleading or excuses or subterfuge. All that I thought I needed to protect myself is removed from my life. In a word, I am free. I taste that marvelous freedom of a child of God, loved by Christ and liberated for a life of service. If you want to know what freedom in Christ means, listen to Paul’s description. It means we have \"renounced the shameful things that one hides.\" It means we \"refuse to practice cunning\". It means we act with \"great boldness\" without fear. It means we offer the \"open statement of the truth.\" Freedom in Christ means there is nothing to frighten us. Freedom in Christ means there is no fear of exposure. Quite simply we have been transformed. We have beheld his glory and that glory transforms us. No more masks, no more veils, no more smiling faces hiding a broken heart. Honesty, openness, candor. That is what a new person in Christ enjoys. How sweet it is to be free, really free. As this new and interminable presidential race begins, we see something quite different. We are reminded how often revelations about a person’s past impacts their political career. Sexual infidelities, illicit drugs, political deals, buckets of campaign cash, and inappropriate language. Oh, there are a thousand ways to shoot oneself in the foot. So presidential aspirants walk on eggshells, wondering if past indiscretions will come back to haunt them. Ah what masks politicians are forced to wear! What bondage! What a way to live one’s life! That is not what the church of Jesus Christ should be about. We are graciously given resources in the church to help us be free, really free. Take for instance public confession. Each week we say out loud that we are not perfect, far from it. Together we acknowledge to God and to our sisters and brothers that we have sinned. For me, the time of silent confession and the Kyrie are especially meaningful. They help clear my spirit and open me to God’s grace and mercy. Not only that, in our fellowship with one another we honestly share our joys and our struggles. Here there should be no deceit or dishonesty or play-acting. The sad spectacle of Rev. Ted Haggart of Colorado demonstrates what a life of duplicity and deceit offers us. Each week at the close of worship we are charged to serve the Lord with gladness. And so the church gives us courage to face the struggles and injustices of our times. We are called to a bold freedom that is not afraid to take on the hard challenges before us. Freedom in Christ makes us unafraid. The church of Jesus Christ wants above all to create an environment where we enjoy the freedom that is ours in Christ. Freedom from the masks that stifle us. Freedom from sin. Freedom from condemnation. Freedom from bitterness and anger. Freedom from fear in all its pernicious forms. Freedom from anxiety-anxiety about our money, anxiety about our health, anxiety about our relationships, anxiety about our future. Freedom. That is what the church of Jesus Christ at its best encourages and supports. Whenever one goes into a Muslim mosque, the worshippers take off their shoes. Imagine if you will that there is a place to lay aside your masks and your veils when you come to church. Just take them off and leave them outside. Church should be mask free. Actually our whole lives should be mask free. Behind those masks is a child of God yearning to be free. \"For freedom Christ has set you free.\" \"Now the Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.\" That is the Good News this morning, the 18th day of February, in the year of our Lord 2007. Thanks be to God. Amen.
SWORD DRILL Perhaps we should ask this question of our text: \"Why did the early Christian community preserve the story of Jesus’ temptation?\" I can think of all sorts of reasons to suppress it. Why? Because it states that the Spirit of God drove Jesus into the wilderness precisely to be tested. It puts Jesus into direct contact with the Prince of Darkness, Satan himself. It makes Jesus appear ever so vulnerable, such that he could have actually succumbed to these temptations. But the early church insisted upon telling this story. In fact, all three Synoptic Gospels preserve this tradition. Perhaps the reason the church did preserve this story was to explain two great enigmas. First, the church wanted to explain why Jesus never used miracles on his own behalf. You recall that the \"last temptation of Christ\" was to use his power to come down off the cross. Jesus never offered up signs for people who asked for them and he did not use his miraculous power to save himself either on the cross or in the wilderness. Second, the church wanted us to see that Jesus refused to conform to contemporary Messianic hopes and ideas. Current opinions imagined that the Messiah would bowl over his enemies. He would destroy the Romans. He would purge Israel of unbelievers and dissidents. But Jesus did none of those things. He would not use his power to call down legions of angels to accomplish his goals. Rather he would submit to the role of Suffering Servant, triumphing over evil by giving of himself for others, even his enemies. In the wilderness he endured a severe test of his willingness to be the Suffering Servant. Even then he did not use his miraculous powers. So how did Jesus withstand temptation? Quite simply, he relied upon the words of Scripture, not his miraculous power. In fact, he used three quotes from the Book of Deuteronomy to fend off the temptations of Satan. It raises the interesting question whether Jesus took a scroll of Deuteronomy with him into the desert. It’s an astonishing thought when you consider it: words of the Hebrew Bible helped Jesus through this profound test. The context for these three quotes from Scripture is instructive. Each quote alludes to a test that the people of Israel failed in the wilderness. Jesus, on the other hand, endures these three tests and does not deny his faith. The first test depicts God allowing the children of Israel to go hungry in the desert. Moses reminds the people of this incident in Deuteronomy 8. The people complained bitterly and wished they could go back to Egypt where they had plenty to eat. Before giving them the manna from heaven to eat, Moses reminds the people, \"You shall not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.\" When Jesus is fasting in the wilderness, Satan tempts him by saying, \"If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.\" Jesus remembers the words from the Hebrew Scriptures and answers this test by saying, \"It is written, ‘One shall not live by bread alone.’\" Jesus will not use his miraculous power to overcome his hunger. Jesus does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. The second test is found in Deuteronomy 6. Here Moses warns the people that when they enter the land flowing with milk and honey, they are not to follow after the local gods and deities. Moses sternly warns them, \"The Lord your God you shall fear; you shall fear God alone.\" Of course, we know how that turned out. In the wilderness, Satan tempts Jesus by taking him to a high mountain and said, \"If you will worship me, all the kingdoms of the world shall be yours.\" Jesus remembers the words from the Hebrew Scriptures and answers this test by saying, \"It is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve.\" Jesus does not use his miraculous power to overcome this temptation. He relies upon the words of Scripture to guide his actions. The third test is also found in Deuteronomy 6. Here Moses recalls that at Masah the thirsty people put God to the test by demanding, \"Give us water to drink\". Again Moses warns them, \"Do not put the Lord your God to the test.\" Here thirst drove the people to challenge God and once again God provided water for the people to drink. In the wilderness Satan tempts Jesus by taking him to the highest point of the temple in Jerusalem. Then Satan says, \"If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here.\" And then Satan does something astonishing. He quotes from Psalm 91 using the exact same formula that Jesus used, \"It is written, ‘He will give his angels charge of you to guard you’ and, ‘On their hands they will you bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’\" So now we have dueling Scriptures, Bible against Bible. I am reminded of those childhood contests I and many of you engaged in. They were called Sword Drills where verses of Scripture are memorized and quoted in a game to test your Bible recall. And so Jesus responds to this final temptation by again quoting from Deuteronomy 6: \"You shall not tempt the Lord your God.\" You shall not put the Lord to the test. It is the Lord who puts us to the test. We do not have that privilege over against God. God is God and we are not. So the temptation story shows us Scripture at its best and at its worst. At its best Scripture reminds us who we are and whose we are. We do not live by bread alone. We worship God alone. We do not tempt God. God is God and we are not. We are servants of God and we are not immune from testing and struggles in our lives. Nor was Jesus immune from testing and struggles. To be human is to be tested, to struggle. We do not have miraculous powers to get us through these ordeals, and Jesus chose not to use his miraculous powers in his ordeal. Jesus is one of us, most especially in his moment of testing in the wilderness. But the temptation story also shows Scripture at its worst. Satan himself uses the words of Psalm 91 to tempt Jesus to throw himself off the temple roof. Jesus is reminded that the angels will guard over you and bear you up so you do not strike your foot against a stone. When Scripture is manipulated to make us engage in evil actions, it is not a pretty sight. It is often a deadly sight. So this past week I thought a lot about the use and abuse of Scripture. In this morning’s adult education class, I will offer to you some ways that the Reformed Tradition has found Scripture useful and some ways that we have found it to be harmful. Clearly the use of Psalm 91 in the Temptation Story is an example of the abuse of Scripture. Had Jesus mindlessly listened to the promises of Psalm 91, who knows? Maybe he would have taken the plunge! Just quoting Scripture does not settle issues. It simply starts the conversation and the hard work of interpretation. And let it be clear that no one reads Scripture without interpretation. Even literalism is one form of interpretation. Every reading of Scripture is a form of interpretation. This past week I looked through three books that suggest that Scripture itself poses all kinds of challenges for Christians. The three books warn us against using Scripture the way Satan does Psalm 91 in the temptation story. Gerd Ludemann’s The Unholy in Holy Scripture, Robert Carroll’s The Bible as a Problem for Christianity and finally Bishop John Shelby Spong’s The Sins of Scripture all walk us through the difficulties posed by this ancient text. When Ludemann talks about the \"dark side of the Bible\", he focuses on the problem of the holy war in the Hebrew Scriptures, the spectacle of the slaughter of men, women, children, and animals. Plus the imagery of holy war is at the heart of the Book of Revelation in the New Testament. Ludemann also reminds us that the entire Bible accepts slavery as a matter of fact. What suffering the acceptance of slavery has brought us! Robert Carroll focuses on the central mystery of the Bible, the elusive presence of God. Carroll calls this the \"hidden problematic\" in the Scriptures. Who is this hidden God? A God of mercy? A God of wrath? A God who drives us into the wilderness to be tempted? A God who does not spare his own Son but offers him up? Is God guilty of child abuse? These are some of the many questions Carroll asks about this mysterious God of the Bible. Then Bishop Spong offers a laundry list of problems-even sins-in the Scriptures: the use of Genesis in justifying the destruction of the environment and the rejection of science; the use of Paul’s letters to justify the subordination of women and the persecution of homosexuals; the use of Proverbs in justifying child abuse as in \"spare the rod and spoil the child\"; and the use of the Gospel of John in justifying anti-Semitic attitudes and actions. Spong faults some Christians for using the Bible to justify a kind of all-knowing certainty that accepts no ambiguity and no diversity of opinions. After reading these books, I wondered if Scripture could ever rid itself of these difficulties. Clearly Scripture cannot. It is an ancient text often expressing ancient ideas. There are notions and stories in it that simply must be rejected by any thinking and feeling Christian. Even Jesus himself in the Sermon on the Mount seemed to suggest that not everything in the Hebrew Scriptures is valid or binding. And we would have to add that not everything in the New Testament is valid or binding. We should not be unafraid of saying that. It is part of our Reformed Tradition to notice the highs and lows in Scripture. We have acknowledged that we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that there is a difference between the husk and the kernel of Scripture. It is part of our tradition to seek further light from Scripture that will correct our misunderstandings. At the end of the Westminster Confession we admit that we mis-read Paul in regard to double predestination. We simply confess that our interpretation was wrong. Our Reformed Tradition also confesses that even with all its limitations, Scripture can still speak to us a Word of God. In fact, ordained leaders of the Presbyterian Church affirm Scripture as the Word of God for us. Even with its shortcomings. Even with its limitations. Even still. Just because Satan quotes from Psalm 91 does not make that Psalm null and void. No, it means that we read it with the mind of Christ. We don’t jump off the temple just because the Scriptures say that angels will bear us up. We read the Scriptures with intelligence and with the mind of Christ,
the One who would not be tempted even by quotes from Psalm 91. And
neither should we. It is not enough to quote Scripture. It requires study
and prayer and interpretation within the Body of Christ. And we hope that
the Holy Spirit will guide and illumine our understanding. This is my
earnest prayer for us today. May the Spirit illumine us to hear the Word
of God that helps us in our struggles and temptations even here, even
now. May it be so. Amen.
Back To the Top January 2007 January 14, 2007 Rev. Frank Yates AND SOME ARE PROPHETS It is very clear in the Corinthian letter that prophets are essential to the life of the church. Prophecy is a gift of God for the people of God. Various kinds of gifts are useful to the church, for the common good. But prophets are particularly helpful in the church’s ministry. In I Corinthians 14 Paul suggests that everyone should seek to be a prophet. Why? Because prophets build up the people of God as they encourage and console them. Also, because prophets can address outsiders, newcomers to the church. Prophets call seekers to account before God so that the secrets of their hearts are disclosed and they bow before God in adoration and praise. When outsiders hear a prophet, they are inspired to declare, \"God is really among you!\" Not only that, but Paul encourages the prophets among the Corinthian congregation to be accountable to one another. They are to take turns in public preaching. The prophets are to weigh carefully what the others say to discern whether their words are from God. Or as Paul says, \"The spirits of prophets are subject to the prophets\"(I Cor. 14:32) Indeed, Paul, in our text, insists that no one could be inspired by God to say something outrageous like, \"Let Jesus be cursed!\" That is certainly not the word of a prophet. Paul could say that, since he felt he had the gift of prophecy himself. And so Paul the prophet concludes his long section on the gifts of the Spirit by saying this, \"Be eager to prophesy!\" Let the church gladly encourage prophets to flourish and minister among them. So what exactly is a prophet? If you take Paul’s words seriously, a prophet builds up the people of God and calls seekers to faith in Christ. Prophets are given a gift that is subject to other prophets who are likewise gifted. Prophets are not lone rangers. They have a particular role and function in the life of the church. In Paul’s mind, a prophet has little to do with predicting the future. Rather the prophet has much to do with forth-telling, telling forth the claims of Christ upon us right here and now. The claims of Christ call for our repentance and our obedience and our faith. Their message is not so much about a distant future as it is a strong summons, an urgent appeal, a serious call to a devout life. The prophet is deeply concerned for the present moment-its demands and its possibilities. This past summer I taught a course on the Hebrew prophets at the College of Santa Fe. I was struck once again by the crucial role of prophets in Israel’s life. Prophets really are the driving force in the history of Israel from Moses to Malachi. The Hebrew prophets and the early Christian prophets have much in common. For instance, all the prophets in the Scriptures demand our attention, because they claim to speak for God. \"Thus says the Lord\"-that is the bold assertion of the prophet. This Word is urgent and serious and demanding. It challenges our indifference, our laziness, our injustice, and our sinfulness. The prophet issues a clarion call to change, to repent, to believe and act differently. The prophet insists that we acknowledge we are not our own, we have been bought by a price. God lays claim to our lives in Christ Jesus, a claim staked out at the foot of the cross. And often there is an explicit or implicit \"or else\" in the message of the prophet. The consequences of refusing to listen are often unsettling and sometimes terrifying. At times a future day of reckoning is presented. Jesus warns his hearers that the walls of Jerusalem may soon come tumbling down if they harden their hearts. In all the prophet says there is a marked note of impatience. There is precious little in the way of gradualism. Repeatedly we hear this urgent cry, \"Now is the day of salvation, now is the day to respond. Do not equivocate. Do not put this off!\" In one of Dr. Martin Luther King’s most memorable sermons he speaks to those who urged African-Americans to be patient. This is Dr. King’s response to such suggestions: \"I guess it is easy for those who never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say wait. But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, brutalize, and even kill your black brothers and sisters with impunity; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million brothers smothering in an air tight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro living constantly at tip-toe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of \'nobodiness\'-then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.\" A prophet speaks to us an audacious word from God. It often makes us squirm and well it should. That word confronts us even when we want to turn away. But it will not let us turn away. That word turns our head toward the truth, the difficult truth about our lives and our life together. I make no claim to be a prophet. I suppose I resist the hard truth like anyone else. It demands too much. It requires more than I want to give. But that same Word of God wants to bring me life that is life indeed. A life that is based on the truth about myself, the truth about God’s love and justice. The truth revealed in Christ who is the Truth and the Life. A liberating truth, if not a frightening truth. A truth that must often tear down before it can build up. That’s the Word of God in the mouth of the prophet. So have you heard a prophet lately? It’s not just your personal discomfort that is the criterion here. It is discomfort that leads to the transforming truth, the truth that will make us free. The truth that demands our lives be in the service of compassion and justice. The truth that takes us places we never imagined we would ever go. To the side of those oppressed and abandoned and powerless. To the side of those far from our comfort zones. If I were a prophet-and God knows I make no such claim-I would speak a word about our life together, our national life. Like Dr. King I would decry the fact that even at this late date too many of our African-American sisters and brothers live in poverty in a land of affluence. Far too many. Too many are incarcerated, often driven to crime because of their limited education and limited opportunities. As we saw in the disgrace that was the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, too often our urban poor are stranded and literally left for dead. And now, sadly, New Orleans is wracked by crime and homicides-as are so many of our cities. Something is terribly wrong in the heart of the great cities of our nation. And too often our black brothers and sisters bear the heaviest brunt of our nation’s urban blight. This is not acceptable and it’s about time we focus our attention on our decaying inner cities. If I were a prophet, I would say something about this never-ending war in Iraq. And this is what I would say-Not one more American life should be sacrificed there. I feel that even more strongly after the President’s speech on Wednesday evening. And that’s how the vast majority of Americans feel as well. Have we not expended enough blood there already? Have we not expended enough money there already? Exactly for whom and for what are we fighting and dying? This is an issue about which I feel passionately. I believe it is high time we begin to re-deploy and withdraw our troops. They have been courageous in an incredibly difficult situation. It is past time for the Iraqis to solve their own problems-politically and militarily. We have given them four years and 3000 plus deaths and over 20,000 wounded and almost half a trillion dollars. Enough is enough! For the love of God! Now I repeat that I make no claim to be a prophet. I would hope I am a follower of the Christ. I would hope I take seriously the claims of Christ. Not just in my political views, but in the way I relate to all people. The ones closest to me and the ones with whom I share this life. I am acutely aware that Paul said there is something far more important than prophecy, which will come to an end. We know that all prophecy is only in part. That something greater than any prophecy is love, the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. That’s what Paul reminds us in I Corinthians 13, that magnificent hymn to love. I would only hope that I take seriously Paul’s imperative: \"Pursue
love!\"(I Cor. 14:1) Pursue love even when you disagree with others.
Pursue love even when we see things differently. Pursue love even when we
hurt each other’s feelings. Pursue love. That is my hope and I trust it
is your hope as well. And may God give us prophets who speak the truth,
the liberating truth that moves us always and forever to love as Christ
loves-without conditions, without hesitation, without fear. And may it be
so. AMEN.
WHY AYN RAND IS WRONG All the members of my family of origin have been teachers. My father taught mathematics in community college, my mother taught business in high school and community college, my brother also taught business in community college later becoming an administrator at Texas A&M University, and my sister taught science in the public schools later becoming a school counselor. Over the last twenty-three years I have taught part time in five different colleges. Right now I am teaching an ethics class at the College of Santa Fe extension here in Albuquerque. I have also taught for many years at CNM. I consider teaching to be part of my ministry and I enjoy it immensely. Except for this one little thing. I have observed time and again that bright nineteen-year old freshmen guys are very taken with the philosophy of Ayn Rand. She captivates many young men who are smart and self-motivated. She tells them that it is quite O.K. to live a life of \"rational self-interest.\" And since that is what they are doing already, they love her. Ayn Rand was a Russian born philosopher who immigrated to the United States to escape the heavy hand of Stalinist communism. She reacted strongly to \"collectivism\" in any form, where one’s own interests were sacrificed for the sake of the group. When she died in 1982 she had written many novels like The FountaineaHead head and Atlas Shrugged. Her philosophical writings were many, the most famous of which was The Virtue of Selfishness. Many of my young male students read this work and think to themselves, \"Finally, here is somebody that encourages me be what I want to be-utterly self-absorbed!\" Listen to her underlying philosophy: \"Every human being is a an end in himself, not the means to the ends or the welfare of others. Therefore, everyone must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself. To live for his own sake means that the achievement of one’s own happiness is our highest moral purpose\". In another essay entitled \"The Ethic of Emergencies\" she simply cannot understand why anyone would risk their own life to save someone else in danger. After all, isn’t the purpose of life one’s own happiness? She would have considered what the first responders did on 9/11 to be immoral-foolishly risking their own lives for the sake of others. Rand insists that it is \"moral cannibalism\" as she calls it to feel obligated to help those who cannot and will not help themselves. Such folks she calls \"moochers and looters.\" In other words, a self-interested person has no time to waste on losers and loafers. She would urge us to earn what we can and get what we can and to hell with those who are unmotivated or unskilled. You can see why selfish young men with lots of brains and motivation love Ayn Rand. Now I have found myself over the years assigning Ayn Rand in every ethics class I teach. Then I excoriate her. That is, she is my favorite \"whipping boy\", or in her case, \"whipping girl.\" It is easy to see how her philosophy gives aid and comfort to the worst in the American experience-the Robber Barons, the war profiteers, the slave owners, the thoughtless millions who live only for themselves. And yet I have come to realize that one of the reasons I bash Ayn Rand so thoroughly is that she appeals to the lowest instincts in my own heart-the me first, grasping, grabbing part of me that I hate to admit lingers yet within me. Because something in me wants what I want when I want it, I try to quell that beast by attacking Ayn Rand vigorously. I guess the psychologists would call that \"displaced anger\". Mainly I am upset with myself for harboring such selfish and petty emotions. So for several reasons, I find Ayn Rand’s philosophy to be loathsome. No other philosopher I know so irritates me. No other philosopher makes me so upset with myself or with the young men in my classes! One gets the distinct impression that Paul would have felt the same way. In fact, some of the folks in the Corinthian congregation had decidedly selfish inclinations. The abuses Paul tries to correct in this church show people at their lowest and their pettiest. Some of these folks were arrogantly claiming to be wise, gloating about their particular spiritual gifts, forming splinter groups within the fellowship, practicing egregious sexual immorality quite openly, bringing law suits against one another, flagrantly disregarding the scruples of others, and disrespecting poorer members of the church. And that is just a partial list. In our passage in I Corinthians 12 Paul insists that in the Body of Christ selfishness and self-absorption are simply unacceptable. Paul says that in the Body of Christ, we have all been baptized into Christ. The selfish instinct within all of us has been crucified with Christ. The Spirit we receive in baptism is creating new persons in Christ-persons who love one another as they love themselves. And so the way we relate to one another in the Body of Christ is absolutely critical. No one part of the Body should seek to lord it over others as though they were the single most important. The foot and the hand and the ear and the eye are all essential. Each has a vital role and each is needed. All five of the senses are important: hearing, smelling, seeing, touching, and tasting all contribute wonderfully to the life of the body. There must never be competition between the senses or the parts of the body. As Paul says, \"The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’, nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’\" In fact, all the parts and senses of the body are irreplaceable. Selfish self-assertion within the body is silly and self-destructive. And then Paul says something amazing. Unlike Ayn Rand who dismisses \"moochers and looters\", Paul insists that the weaker members of the body are indispensable. In fact, these weaker, less honorable members are to be given \"greater honor\" and \"greater respect.\" Respect and modesty are offered to certain parts of our body and that is the way it should be. Listen to this astonishing quote from Paul, \"But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body.\" And why is this done? So that \"the members may have the same care for one another.\" These are the words of Paul, clearly not the words of Ayn Rand. The Body of Christ is an organism where the weaker members are given the greater respect and help and care they need. Paul says if any member suffers, all suffer together. And if any member is honored, all rejoice together. In other words, selfishness is unthinkable and completely contrary to the nature of the Body of Christ. Utter self-absorption, like the eye dismissing the hand, is simply out of order. The church of Jesus Christ, the Body of Christ, is a fellowship where everyone is vitally important. From the strongest to the weakest, the oldest to the youngest, the most educated to the least educated, the wealthiest to the poorest. In fact, in the Body of Christ greater respect is paid to those most vulnerable and needy. Paul assures us that the \"more respectable members do not need this\"-this special attention. The stronger members are in fact called upon to give special attention to the most needy. Such a thought would mystify Ayn Rand. For me, this is the great beauty of the church of Jesus Christ. We are called out of our selfishness into a life of caring for one another. Even folks decidedly different from myself. Even folks who have much less than myself. Maybe that is the single best thing about the church-where the haves of this world rub shoulders with the have-nots and there learn something about love. The haves learn to practice the love of Christ for the have-nots within the Christian fellowship. And that shows us how to love those outside the Body of Christ. In the Body we discover what a self-giving life looks like so we can practice that love in a world desperately in need of self-giving people. And that is why the church has always created orphanages and hospitals and schools for the needy and safe places for the mentally disabled, like Share Your Care. That is why Christians go to difficult places and care for the hurting in far parts of the globe. That’s why Christians care for their vulnerable grandchildren and their struggling children and their aging parents. Because we learned something important in the Body of Christ-something about caring for others. Regardless of my own comfort. Maybe the best thing we can do in the church is to say to one another, \"The life that is life indeed is found in giving of ourselves to others.\" That is the life worth living. That is the life of Christ active even now in the world. So this morning, I invite you to take a good hard look at the vestiges
of Ayn Rand lurking in the secret chambers of your own heart. For me and
I dare say the entire Christian tradition, the philosophy of Ayn Rand and
her ilk is deeply and decidedly wrong. May the power and grace of Christ
our Lord drive her presence from your spirit. And may the power and grace
of Christ our Lord fill you with love and compassion and mercy for
others-especially the most vulnerable. Sisters and brothers for whom
Christ died. May it be so. Amen.
LOVE IS PATIENT In I Corinthians 13 Paul describes love in both positive and negative terms. Now the first positive term that comes to his mind is \"patient\". Of course, love is also kind. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Then Paul describes love for what it is not: it is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. So let\'s ask a simple question of ourselves this morning. Are you patient? No, really, are you patient? The banner headlines in the newspaper this past week suggested that some Lobo fans are getting impatient with Coach Richie McKay. Especially after that lop-sided loss to BYU. A sports columnist asked out loud, \"Just how long can Athletic Director Paul Krebs remain patient with McKay?\" There is that word again-\"patient\". Have Lobo basketball fans lost patience with their head coach? Stay tuned! So just how patient are you? Maybe another way to ask that question is this: What makes you impatient? Really teeth-grinding impatient? I suppose the answer for some of us is too many things to count. Way back in 1959 Bishop Fulton J. Sheen wrote a book entitled, The Way to Inner Peace. He suggested that one way to inner peace is to have patience. Then he noted that four things often make us lose our patience. I think they are still relevant. First, provocations from strangers, for instance, bad drivers. But let\'s don\'t go there. I don\'t even want to tell you what happened to me on 125 last week! Second, disappointments. If you have not been disappointed in someone or something lately, you are living a charmed life indeed. How many times this past week were you disappointed and frustrated? But don\'t even ask me about my recent disappointments! Third, restraints upon your time or your talent or your treasure or your opportunity or your health. Think of all the things that hem us in and keep us from doing what we want to do. I don\'t have time to tell you how many restraints I faced just this past week! And fourth, injuries and wrongs done by those you know and love. This is not about strangers but those who are your family and friends and co-workers and dare I say it fellow church members? Ah the things people have said and done who should know better! Now maybe you are thinking that I get a little impatient sometimes. Now just maybe you\'re right. And so I am guessing you think this sermon is addressed to myself. Again you just may be right. But since I know that I am not alone in this matter, I invite you to overhear this sermon I preach to myself! Maybe we can have a talk with ourselves about our impatience. Patience. The Biblical idea of patience is grounded in God\'s incredible patience. I think of God creating the world in its primordial state and hovering over this \"formless void\" for millions of years. The earth\'s surface slowly cools and forms life. This all happens at a glacial pace. Now that is divine patience! I think of God creating human beings and watching them turn their back upon the One who gave them life and love. For me the finest description of patience in Scripture is a verse repeated often, \"The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.\" God is patient and slow to anger. Thank goodness! Jesus who bears the image of God demonstrates to us what patience looks like. I can only image the provocations, disappointments, restraints, and injuries he patiently endured. Perhaps dealing with his own family, friends, and followers may have taxed him more than anything else. With friends like that, who needed enemies? Imagine how Peter his closest follower must have tested his patience. Not to mention Judas. Now of course Jesus could be quite stem and even confrontational with both friends and foes. Patience has its limits. There is a \"time to keep silence and a time to speak\" as Ecclesiastes says. And Jesus certainly shows that when it is time to speak your mind, you should speak the truth in love. But before we are forced to be stem and confrontational, we are called to have patience and forbearance with one another. Some of the best advice I ever received was this, \"Frank, you are under no obligation to say aloud whatever it is you are thinking at any given moment.\" That one bit of advice has saved my hide many times over. So many times I was glad I was patient and did not say what was on the tip of my tongue in the heat of the moment. Now of course, there have been times when I simply had to speak for the sake of love and the truth. But most of us need to hear this word again and again. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love bears all things, endures all things, hopes all things. It does not insist on its own way. Even when people provoke us. Even when we are deeply disappointed. Even when restrains hold us back and injuries hurt us. Even then, we are called to be long-suffering, as the King James Version calls it. Forbearing one another is what Paul calls it. Patience is always upheld by hope, the hope that believes all things are possible. Even impossible things can and do happen. And so we are patient. When I think of patience a particular woman comes to mind. Monica was the mother of Augustine, the famous theologian who died in 430 CE. Augustine would probably not have been a famous theologian if it were not for his mother. Hers is the incredibly story of a mother\'s love, patience, and prayers that would not let her gifted son go. Monica grew up a devoted Christian in what is now Algeria in Northern Africa. Married to Patricius, Monica would bear three children, her first being Augustine. Now the temper tantrums and infidelities of Patricius were well known. And so was Monica\'s patience with her difficult husband. Apparently neighbor\'s wives were astonished at her self-control. Just before his death in 370 Patricius confessed his faith and was baptized. This would not be the last time that Monica\'s patience paid off. Her son Augustine would also prove to be difficult. Gifted academically Augustine was sent to the best schools in North Africa. While in school in his late teens he developed a deep restlessness of heart. As he would write in the Confessions, \"I walked the streets of Babylon and wallowed in its mire.\" Soon the young student found himself a mistress and they had a son. About this time Augustine began his life long study of philosophy and joined a heretical Christian group the Manichees. This dualistic sect gave him an easy excuse for the evil that tore at his heart. In effect, Augustine thought that he could not help it. It was simply another form of \"the devil made me do it.\" Nevertheless, Augustine was inwardly miserable and his mother was beside herself with anxiety for her son. When he visited his mom and she found out about his heretical tendencies, she threw him out of her house and forbade him to stay under her roof. This, by the way, should be of some comfort to every parent who has ever had to practice tough love. In great sorrow Monica visited the bishop of her church and he advised her with these words: \"Only pray for him, he will himself by reading find out what his error is.\" This was pastoral advice Monica took to heart. She did pray for her son, pray without ceasing. Meanwhile her errant son had finished his studies and became a teacher. He decided without telling his mother that he was sailing to Rome to teach there. Monica that night rushed to the seashore and fell on her knees begging God to bring her son back to her. But Augustine did go to Rome and fell in with the skeptics who doubted all things. But this young professor could not bring himself to be a total skeptic because his mother\'s faith had not fully deserted him. Soon Augustine moved to another teaching post in Milan still struggling with his convictions and beliefs. There he would meet up with two rather imposing figures. First, the bishop Ambrose, whom Augustine would often hear preach. And second, his mother Monica, who moved to Milan to rescue her son. Augustine\'s biographer, Roy Battenhouse, writes this: \"Monica, by her faithful attendance at Mass, her constant prayers for her son, and above all her serenity of heart, provided Augustine both a rebuke and a challenge.\" It is interesting that Frances Thompson, the author of the poem about God the hound of heaven, mentions Monica as a hound of heaven herself weeping and praying for her son. And so it was after much internal struggle and many conversions with friends and pastors and indeed his mother, that Augustine was finally converted to the Christian faith. Bishop Ambrose baptized him during Easter of 387. No one was more overjoyed by all this than his mother Monica. She then spent several months with her son and his friends at a retreat house studying the Scriptures and writing Christian discourses. During this time Augustine made a vow to Monica that he would return with her to North Africa. At Rome\'s seaport, Ostia, while waiting for their boat, Monica fell ill with a fever. Book nine of the Confessions offers a touching account of her final days of illness. On her deathbed the fifty-six year old Monica said to her son, \"There was one reason and one alone why I wished to remain a little longer in this life and that was to see you become a Christian before I died. God has granted my wish.\" Listen to Augustine\'s tribute to his mother, her love, her patience and her prayers: \"Our life together, which had been so precious and so dear to me, had been cut off. In the last stages of her life she had caressed me and said that I was a good son to her. And yet, 0 God, how could there be any comparison between the honor, which I showed her, and the devoted service she had given to me? I thought only of her devoted love for you, 0 God, and the tenderness and patience she has shown to me.\" As Augustine and his friends lay her in her grave he said this, \"For this was the mother, now dead and hidden awhile from my sight, who had wept over me for many years so that I might live in your sight, 0 God.\" And then Augustine remembers her final wish: that her son would remember her at the altar where she had knelt and prayed for him so passionately. And so Augustine concludes the story of his mother by appealing to the readers of the Confession: \"0 my Lord, inspire those who read this book to remember Monica, your servant, at your altar ... that she was not only my parent in this light that fails, but she will also be my sister in the eternal Jerusalem for which all your people sigh throughout their pilgrimage.\" And so this day we remember with gratitude the prayers and more especially the patience of Monica. Most especially we remember this: love is patient. Thanks be to God. Amen. Back To the Top |
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St. Andrew Presbyterian Church
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