6-7-2020 The Mystery of the Trinity

Thomas J Parlette

“The Mystery of the Trinity”

Genesis 1:1- 2:4

6/7/2020

          So it’s Trinity Sunday today. Last week, we celebrated Pentecost, perhaps our most colorful Sunday of the year as we break out the red banners and vestments and celebrate the birthday of the church with talk of wind and flame. It’s a pretty dramatic Sunday in the church year.

          And that brings us to Trinity Sunday – perhaps our most confusing Sunday of the year. Some of our best hymns were written for this Sunday, but the theology of the day can be hard to grasp – and I’ll be honest, it can be hard to explain and preach on too.

          And we don’t get too much help from the historical documents of the church either. For instance, consider the ancient Creed of Athanasius, one that’s still found in the Book of Common Prayer used in the Episcopal Church. This creed begins with “we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity, neither confounding the Persons, nor dividing the substance.”

  Then, trying to further clarify the three persons, the creed continues: “The Father uncreate, the Son uncreate, and the Holy Ghost uncreate. The Father incomprehensible, the Son incomprehensible, and the Holy Ghost incomprehensible… And yet… there are not three incomprehensibles, nor three uncreated, but one created, and one incomprehensible.”(1)

And we are left with the question – “WHAT!!!”

You see what I mean that this can be a confusing Sunday.

Whereas Pentecost is one of the most dramatic and colorful Sundays of the church year – Trinity Sunday is one of the most mysterious and sometimes confusing Sundays in our liturgical year.

Which might explain why the lectionary puts the first creation story from Genesis as our Old Testament Reading for today. It doesn’t seem to have much to do with the concept of the Trinity – but perhaps it’s inclusion speaks more to the mysterious of this day, rather than the theology.

The creation story in Genesis 1 is certainly mysterious – “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was formless….. void. And darkness covered the face of the waters…. While a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”

It’s not science, but poetry – poetry rooted in faith rather than biological facts. God spoke, and creation happened.

          The author of Genesis 1 did not debate or defend the divine role and presence but simply assumed that there was a God who created the heavens and the earth. In the beginning was chaos. Then God breathed over the chaos, over the watery mess, and God’s ruach (breath, wind, or spirit are all appropriate translations) moved over and separated the waters. God spoke, and order began to take place. God spoke and the world appeared. God spoke, and divided the day from the night. God spoke, and separated the water from the land. Out of the chaos came order and life. An important thing to remember in when we see so much chaos around us – God’s Spirit brings order and life.

          The description of creation is precisely ordered. In the first three days of creation, God created the habitat – day and night/ heaven and the oceans/ earth and sea. In the next three days, God created the inhabitants forth this space – sun, moon and stars/ birds and sea creatures/ cattle and all animals, including earthlings, known as humans. (2)

          Be sure to take note of the order of creation. God didn’t make human beings and then provide them with animals. No, the animals were created first and then human beings last. The way this text is structured, it puts humans into the leading role.

          Think of attending a play or a musical. At the end of the show is the curtain call. This wouldn’t seem like a big deal – but for those in the theater world, it is. The curtain call even gets it’s own music in the score – at least most of the time.

          It starts with the actors that had the smallest parts and works it’s way to the lead actors. For those who’ve been in a play or a musical, the importance of the curtain call is well known, and it’s always something you rehearse in that last week of preparation.

          Well, here in the creation story, humans receive the last bow, the final curtain call. Everything else is on the stage, and humanity enters, then God declares creation good, and takes a Sabbath break to enjoy what has been accomplished – the applause of heaven, perhaps.

          Humans are the crown jewel of God’s created order. To paraphrase Paul in Ephesians 2:10 – “You are God’s masterpiece.” God created the world because God loves people, after all, we’re the only ones made in the image of God.

          So, instead of getting swept away by the theology of the day, perhaps we should concentrate on the mystery of this Trinity Sunday. What do we learn when we hear the story of creation?

          We hear over and over again that God believes creation is good. God loves creation. And above all, God loves humans. When we look through the mystery of creation, what do we see? We see God’s love for us and God’s desire to provide for us and be with us.

          Perhaps a visual depiction of the Trinity would help more than complicated theological concepts.

          There is one classic image called “Trinity” by Andrei Rublev, a Russian artist, who painted it in 1425.

          Through his praying with Scripture, Rublev began to understand the three messengers who visited Abraham and Sarah and announced the future birth of a child to this aged couple as precursors of the Holy Trinity of the New Testament. In the icon depicting that scene, he draws three figures seated around three sides of a square table. There is an opening on the fourth side immediately in front of the viewer.

          As one gazes on this image, one is aware of the vast silence that surrounds the three figures. They seem to be looking into each other with an unqualified dignity, respect and loving gaze – three distinct persons, three yet one. The fourth side to the table is left open intentionally by Rublev, signaling an invitation for the person viewing the image to draw near, even to sit at the table and join in the intimate conversation taking place. In a profound sense the person viewing the icon completes the image by joining the divine circle of the Sacred Three.(3)

          The concept of the Trinity then becomes an invitation to sit with God, known in three different ways, and experience the love of God.

          Another very different understanding of the Trinity comes from Meister Eckhart, a 14th century German mystic. His take may be a bit unusual, but it is one of my favorites. He wrote that God the Father laughed, and the Son was born. Then the two of them laughed, and the Spirit was born. When all of them laughed, the human being was born. For Eckhart, the mystery of the Trinity was surrounded by peals of golden laughter at the heart of the universe.(4) The Trinity becomes an expression of God’s joy.

          The Trinity may be a confusing and mysterious concept, but at the center of the mystery is God who created the world good – whose crowning achievement was the creation of human beings, all human beings. So let us come to the table and celebrate the gifts of God.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Carole Crumley, Feasting on the World, Westminster John Knox Press, 2011, p26.

2.    Lynn Japinga, Connections, Westminster John Knox Press, 2020, p3.

3.    Carole Crumley, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2011, p28, 30.

4.    Ibid… p30.

5-31-2020 Winds of the Spirit

Thomas J Parlette

“Winds of the Spirit”

Acts 2: 1-21

5/31/20, Pentecost 

          “I know it when I see it.”

          That’s what Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart said back in 1964. He was trying to get a handle on one of the trickiest issues faced by the court in decades – the definition of obscenity. About the best he could do, in an attempt to nail down a very slippery concept, was to say, “I know it when I see it.”(1)

          We can certainly sympathize with Justice Stewart. There are so many powerful forces in our lives, both positive and negative, that are difficult to measure. Think about trying to measure quality, or goodness, or kindness. Then think about how to measure Envy or lust. Not easy, but we know it when we see it. Think about how to measure the beauty of a sunrise, the gracefulness of a robin, or even, the strength of the wind.

          The question of wind comes up today because it’s Pentecost, and we re-visit the story of how the Holy Spirit came upon the first disciples. Wind is an invisible but powerful force. We know it when we feel it, but how can we describe it, or measure it?

          “The wind blows where it chooses,” said Jesus, “and you hear the sound of it, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it goes.” He goes on to say, “So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

          For thousands of years, no one thought that the wind could be measured. But then, in the late 1700’s, cabin boy in the British Navy began to keep a meteorological journal so he could stay on top of the weather conditions. His name was Francis Beaufort, and he went on to become a Rear Admiral, serving the Navy for 68 years. Over the course of his career, he developed a method for describing the wind that became known as “The Beaufort Scale.”

          According to Beaufort, you’ve got your “calm.” You’ve got your “light breeze.” And then a “moderate breeze”, then a “strong breeze.” As the wind gets stronger, he refers to a “gale”, then a “storm,” and finally a “hurricane.” As we know, the scale was expanded to include, I think, five categories of hurricanes, defined by wind speed.

          Beaufort didn’t have wind speeds at the time, so he wrote rather poetic descriptions of the categories, based on what the wind did to the sea.

          Calm winds resulted in “sea like a mirror.”

          When a light breeze is blowing, you see small wavelets on the water, and the crests don’t break. It looks like ripples.

          A “moderate breeze” creates small waves, while a “strong generates large waves, with white foam crests and probably spray.

          When a “gale” is beginning to blow, you see moderately high waves and crests that begin to break into sea spray.

          A “storm” is defined by very high waves with long, overhanging crests. The surface of the sea takes a white appearance, and the tumbling of the sea becomes heavy.

          And at the top of the scale is a “hurricane” – a wind condition you don’t want to see firsthand, if you can help it. ‘The air is filled with foam and spray,” says Beaufort, and the sea is “completely white with driving spray.”

          With his descriptions of every condition from calm to hurricane, Francis Beaufort created a way to describe wind – a scale that is still in use today.(2)

          Well, it was a windy day in Jerusalem, or at least it sounded windy, when the disciples gathered to celebrate the harvest festival known as Pentecost. Acts tells us that there came a sound like the rushing of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where the apostles were sitting. Firelike tongues rested on each of them, and they were filled with the Holy Spirit – they began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Suddenly, the international crowd that had gathered in Jerusalem could hear the apostles speaking about God’s deeds of power – they could understand what the apostles were saying, because they were speaking the native language of each and every person.

          But the force of the wind did not end there. It inspired the apostle Peter, who had acted like such a coward just a few months earlier, denying that he even knew Jesus, to stand in front of a mob of mockers and shout, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem…listen to what I say.” Peter proclaimed that the coming of the Holy Spirit matched the words of the prophet Joel – words that told of how God would pour out his Spirit upon all people. Your “sons and daughters shall prophesy,” said Peter to the crowd, and “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

          What a mighty wind it was, whipping through Jerusalem and blowing away the everyday expectations of everyone who was gathered there. People were impacted, lives were changed, and it was, for the apostles and members of the crowd alike, the storm of the century.

          But how can we measure the force of this holy wind?

          If we were to apply the Beaufort scale to the winds of the Spirit, what would that look like? How do we experience the Holy Spirit in our lives today?

          First of all, the scale starts with Calm. This is the condition we experience when the Spirit leads us, equips us, and gives us serenity and peace. When the scale read calm, we are given peace and a sense of purpose – we know that we belong to God, and that we now possess a sense of direction.

          This Spirit-scale calm is something we feel even thought our lives may be buffeted by hurricane force winds. Whatever that nature of the external wind that is assailing us, the calm of the Spirit keeps us on mission, on point, and on message. We are unmoved. We are unfazed. We are experiencing the “calm” of the Holy Spirit.

          At other time, the Holy Spirit comes as a “strong breeze,” a Spirit-wind that has a creative quality to it and leads to surprising improvements and new directions in our lives. In the Bible, this is seen in the “wind of God” that swept over the face of the waters” at the moment of creation. This is the Spirit-wind that came upon the anointed figures of the Old Testament when they were empowered for specific tasks and missions.

          This is the Spirit that came upon the 70 elders in the Book of Numbers.

          This is the Spirit that came upon Balaam when he uttered his oracle.

          This is the Spirit that rested upon Gideon and Samson, that fell upon Saul and David.

          When we head into a situation where new directions, fresh opportunities and unlimited possibilities face us, we look to the Holy Spirit for the “strong breeze” to empower us according to the will of God.

          Higher up the scale is the Spirit as a “gale,” a force that breaks unhealthy patterns and shakes up the status quo. In a world that so often fights fire with fire and responds to violence with even more violence, we are given the power we need to go in a different direction. “Evil is not effectively resisted with hatred and with guns” observes Jeffrey Burton Russel in his book The Prince of Darkness: Radical Evil and the Power of Good in History. “The only response to evil that has ever worked is the response of Jesus… and that is to lead a life of love. That means what it has always meant: visting the sick, giving to the poor and helping those in need.”(3)

          This is a powerful wind, one that can knock us off balance and push us out of our comfort zones. We need to ask ourselves: Are we willing to be blown in this direction?

          Finally, at the top of the scale is the Spirit as a “hurricane.” This is what hit Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost, turning the lives of the apostles completely upside down. They were reoriented from looking inward at themselves to looking outward toward a world in desperate need of the gospel. They were changed from fearful disciples into fearless evangelists, and they headed off into the mission field with a powerful sense of purpose.

          We used to call this revival. When hurricane force Spirit-winds blow across the landscape of our souls and our common life together, nothing is ever the same.

          When you look at the movement of the Spirit on Pentecost, you see the power of Almighty God at work. You see the breaking down of language and culture barriers… the empowering of frightened disciples… the courageous sharing of Jesus Christ with the world. After the winds of the spirit, the disciples learn how much more they are capable of.

          Robert Brow has written a kind of parable for Pentecost. There was once a couple from a jungle in Africa who arrived in Kingston, Ontario to study, and were given a fully equipped home to live in. They were handed the keys, but no thought to explain about the electrical appliances, or how the house worked. During the month of July, they went to bed when it got dark and rose with the sun, just as they always had. They collected wood and were able to cook in the fireplace. They found water came from the taps, and they did their washing in the kitchen, and dried their clothes on the line.

          But by November, they were cold, miserable and very frightened. Happily, some friends came to visit, found the house in darkness and they flicked on the lights. They showed the couple how they could set the thermostat to heat the house and how to use the electric stove for cooking.

          The next week they learned about the washer and dryer, the vacuum cleaner, how to use the phone and get in touch with their friends. The television helped them learn more about Canada, and how people survived the Canadian winter.(4)

          That story illustrates the huge change that took place on the Day of  Pentecost. “Suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a mighty wind and it filled the entire house.” The couple from Africa discovered that they were living in a house in which they were free to enjoy light, and heat, and the many appliances needed for the Canadian winter. But in the days before Jesus, the Pharisees and other religious leaders of the day had never told the people all that God had for them. On the Day of Pentecost, the early Christians began to experience the light and power available to them through the winds of the Spirit.

          May it be so for us. And may we know it when we see it.

          May God be praised, Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved May 18th, 2020.

2.    Ibid…

3.    Ibid…

4.    Ibid…

5-24-2020 Castaway Anxiety

Castaway Anxiety 

Acts 1:6-14 / 1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11

Rev. Jay Rowland

The account of Jesus' ascension in Acts chapter 1 probably sounds outlandish to those who are unfamiliar--and maybe even to those who are. Perhaps this is why we don’t think or talk much about the ascension other than when we recite the Apostles Creed together. Perhaps many prefer to quietly ignore this passage and any consideration of the ascension.

Not me. I believe it’s essential.

Because until Jesus ascends it appears he can only be in one place at a time. After he ascends, Jesus can be anywhere and everywhere at once.

So, no. I’m not willing to skip over the ascension.

The disciples clearly did not see it coming. After it happens they’re clearly shaken. They were still trying to make sense of everything that was changing right in front of them. Above all, they were hoping Jesus’ Resurrection meant an end to living under the stress and anxiety and heavy hand of Roman occupation. That’s why they asked him what they did. They are understandably stunned, even discouraged by the ascension of Jesus. The world in front of them and all around them was still as dangerous and prone to evil as it was before. When Jesus is taken up and out of their sight, it hits them just how much they relied on him to keep their fear in check.

We do too whether or not we say it out loud.

Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will come upon them to liberate them from the prison of their fears and anxiety. Through them, God’s ways of love and life will reach all who are near and all who are far off.

Remember before the COVID19 menace arrived, there was a great deal of concern and preoccupation about why people aren’t coming to church anymore like they used to back in the “good old days.” Back in the day when church attendance was robust and church-influence upon culture and government was the norm. Sounds like the disciples asking Jesus if all this means that Israel will be restored to its former glory—the good old days.

Jesus replies, basically, that’s none of your business. It is not for us to know the whys and the wherefores. Instead of wondering why people are not coming to church or how to bring the church back from obscurity, Jill Duffield notes that Jesus suggests in Acts 1 that we “exercise the power of the Holy Spirit and be His witnesses: show the Lord’s grace, compassion, and mercy wherever we are.

Go to the places where others are afraid to go and feed His sheep.

Bear witness to the abundant and eternal life Jesus brings.

Be generous.

Be welcoming.

Work for reconciliation.

Be forgiving.

Do justice. Love kindness.

Use all our Spirit-powered intelligence to light up the ends of the earth with the love of Jesus Christ. God will take care of the rest.” (Jill Duffield)

Henri Nouwen, in Making All Things New, writes about preoccupation: " … (it) means to fill our time and place long before we are there. So much of our [anxiety] is connected with [such] preoccupations… Always preparing for eventualities, we seldom fully trust the moment."

Our negative preoccupations—about the “success” of our church or our kids or who/whatever— provokes anxiety. And in my experience, such anxiety displaces hope and depletes our spirit. This kind of anxiety turns us into castaways, isolating us on an island of discouragement. Such anxiety tries to convince us that the love and care of God for God’s people is non-existent.

The community to which Peter writes was longing to trust in God in spite of the persecution, suffering and anxiety they were experiencing. Their unanswered questions tormented them. Rather than furnish answers, Peter instead encourages them to endure and to persist, mindful that they are God’s beloved. Peter offers one of my favorite verses in all of scripture: “cast all your anxiety upon him, because he cares for you.”

The pandemic has rendered our previous preoccupation with church attendance irrelevant. People are suffering and struggling in a myriad of ways. The world is longing to trust in God despite what’s happening. We are all tormented by unanswered questions.

When will this pandemic end?

When will our life be restored?

When will it be safe to gather in person again?

How long, O Lord, will COVID-19 remain?

How will people ever recover from the economic catastrophe?

In the absence of answers and certainty, our mission becomes clear and simple: Seek and discern the Holy Spirit in the midst of the present chaos and change. The Holy Spirit will show us how to faithfully bear witness to the life and love of God embodied in Jesus Christ. As we learn and practice new ways of being church, the Holy Spirit is already helping us: We are now reaching people we may have previously overlooked or unintentionally excluded. We are learning there is more we can and will learn. The Holy Spirit is already working.

And so, praise God we shall continue to grow together spiritually as we continue to worship and gather together digitally. And so,

We shall call upon the power of the Holy Spirit.

We shall seek to love God and neighbor in all we do and strive to do.

We shall follow the well-trod path of the first disciples and apostles, who agreed they were in this for the duration, completely together in prayer, casting away anxiety everywhere they went by bearing witness to the love of God in Jesus Christ.

5-17-2020 If You Love Me

Thomas J Parlette

“If You Love Me”

John 14: 15-21

5/17/20

          Here are two statements about the world – see if they ring true for you. The first is this – “The World is a beautiful place.” And here’s the second – “The World is a terrible and dangerous place.”

          Both statements are true, don’t you think. It’s too bad that most of us are spending more of our time and energy lately thinking of the world as a terrible, dangerous and highly contagious place – but there is still beauty to be found. Both statements are true. And yet they seem to say the exact opposite thing.

          The world is a beautiful place – most of us can say that with no difficulty at all. The miracle of a baby’s birth, the splendor of a spectacular sunset, the wonder of music, poetry, art and drama – all of these affirm the beauty of the world in which we live.

          For years, Joseph Sittler taught theology at the University of Chicago. Late in his life, he slowly began to lose his eyesight. One of his friends asked him, “Joe, if you had your full sight back for just one afternoon, what would you go and see?” Without a moment’s hesitation he said, “The Chartres Cathedral in France. The glories of the blues in the Cathedral windows are so beautiful.”

          If you have ever beheld the beauty of the trees when they are ablaze in their fall foliage, then you can identify with Edna St. Vincent Millay when she wrote:

          “Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag

          And but cry with color!

          …Lord, I do fear

          Thou hast made the world too beautiful this year.”

          If you have ever looked into the nighttime sky at the moon and the planets and the shimmering stars which hang down like lovely lanterns in God’s cosmic cathedral, then you know firsthand that the world is a beautiful place.

          But the world is also a terrible and dangerous place as well. Every earthquake, every tornado, every hurricane, every deadly virus, every bomb, every gunshot, every random act of violence, every life that is lost – all remind us that the world can be a terrible and dangerous place.

          If only we could choose one over the other, then we’d know how to live. If the world is beautiful, then we could embrace it. But if the world is terrible and dangerous, then we’d better fear it and guard ourselves against it.

          Like us, the Gospel of John struggles to make sense of the world. On the one hand, John affirms that the world is good and worthy of God’s love. After all, way back at the time of creation, God pronounced the world “good.” And in the fullness of time, “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. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save it.” John wants us to know that the world is deeply loved by God.

          But the world is also a dangerous place. For one thing, the world is a dark place, which needs the light of Christ to shine in it. “The light shines in the darkness,” wrote John, “and the darkness did not overcome it.” For another thing, the world has rejected Christ. “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.” Can you see John’s struggle to make sense of the world? The world is not just a beautiful place, deeply loved by God; it is also a “God-less world” which has turned it’s back on Christ.

          You might say that John had a lover’s quarrel with the world. Robert Frost, the American poet, once said that about himself. One day Frost was walking through a cemetery looking at the tombstones. He grew interested in the words inscribed on each stone, which attempted to sum up the person’s life. Frost found himself wondering, “What epitaph would I choose for my own tombstone?” I don’t know how long he thought about it, but he came up with a good one. Written on his tombstone are the words – “I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.”

          And so it was for the author of the Gospel of John. He too had a lover’s quarrel with the world. He knew that the early Christians should be engaged in the world through mission because, after all, this is God’s world, the world God loves, the world God sent Christ to save. But John also feared the corrupting influence of the world. He must have wondered, as many have wondered since – how can we Christians be IN the world without being OF the world? How can we live in the world without being swallowed up by the world? How can we live in different realms at once – the beautiful and the terrible – the godly and the ungodly.

          Of course, the early Christians were not the first ever to face such a problem. Hundreds of years before, the people of ancient Israel faced a similar struggle during what we’ve come to call the Babylonian Captivity, or Babylonian Exile. They had been dragged away from their homeland and forced to live as prisoners of war in far off Babylon. A beautiful poem from the Psalms recalls their ordeal:

          “By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps. For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

          And I’m pretty sure you remember how they responded. “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” Indeed, how can anyone sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? How can we live in this beautiful but terrible world and still hold on to what is spiritual and sacred?

          Jesus knew that his disciples would face this very struggle in the world. So he gathered them in the Upper Room to prepare them. He knew that his time with them was winding down. Soon, he would go to the cross. Soon he would be put to death. Soon he would leave them all alone, alone in a terrible and dangerous world that would swallow them alive unless they could define themselves in terms that were distinct from the world around them. So there, in the Upper Room, he spoke to them tenderly, like they were children. He put before them both a challenge and a promise. The challenge was both simple and demanding. He stated the whole thing in just nine words: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”

          Of course, not everybody likes the idea of commandments, or rules and regulations. Ever since Adam and Eve, we have struggled to decide – should we live by what God tells us to do, by the commandments God set before us? Or should we do our own thing and hope nobody is watching?

          Yet, as we mature, most of us begin to realize that the commandments are not just rigid rules to obey. They are also good and gracious gifts from God to order and regulate our lives and which help to shape our identity and define who we are and how we might live. Someone once said to Jesus, “Teacher, which commandment is the greatest? And Jesus answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest commandment, it comes first. The second is like it. You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” On another occasion, Jesus said to his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should love one another.”

          Don’t you find it interesting that when Jesus spoke about obeying the commandments, he almost always spoke in terms of love. “If you love me, he said, “you will keep my commandments” – not out of obligation, not out of guilt, not out of fear, not even out of a desire to get to heaven – but out of love. “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” That’s the challenge Jesus puts before – a demanding challenge to be sure.

          But the challenge is made easier because of the promise that comes with it. Listen closely, because it’s easy to miss. Jesus says, “You will not be left alone.” That’s the promise! Jesus doesn’t just leave us to our own devices to try to meet this outrageous challenge. No – “You are part of my family,” says Jesus. “I will ask the Father and he will give you another Helper, who will stay with you forever.” 

          There was once a young man who was asked to speak at his grandfather’s funeral. He told the congregation that even though he was adopted, he had always sensed that his grandfather loved him as much as the other grandkids, none of whom were adopted. To illustrate, the young man told of a time that he, his grandfather and his father all went to a baseball game together. Between innings, they bumped into a man who had been the grandfather’s business associate some years before. The man, not knowing that the grandson was adopted, looked at the three generations and said, “Wow, I can sure see the family resemblance. All of you look so much alike.” With that, the grandfather put his arm on his grandson’s shoulder and said simply, “Yes, we all do look alike, don’t we?”

          “At that moment,” recalled the young man, “I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my grandfather loved me unconditionally and that I was a part of the family.”

          As disciples, we are part of the family of Jesus Christ. He has adopted us into his family. He has given us the promise of his presence to guide us and sustain us as we venture out into the world – which we know is a beautiful yet dangerous place. He challenges us to live lives that give glory to the family name, the name of Christ, not by defining ourselves according to the world’s standards, but according to the standards of Christ. He challenges us to stand apart from the world and try to transform it.

          “If you love me,” says Jesus, “you will show that love by keeping my commandments.”

          May God be praised. Amen.

5-10-2020 What is Truth

Thomas J Parlette
“What is Truth”

John 14: 1-14

5/10/20 

          Believe it or not, there used to be a theological debate that raged in our society. And it played out in a most unusual arena. This debate was not in some ivy-covered institution of theological learning; nor was it a subject for the television pundits. No, the debate occured on the backs of people’s cars.

          It all began some years ago when people began to put a small fish symbol on the back of their cars. As you all know from our baptism ritual, the early Christians used the sign of the fish as a secret mark to identify their meeting places. Those early Christians were living in a time of great persecution and they needed to identify each other without giving themselves away. The fish symbol served that purpose perfectly, because the spelling of the Greek word for fish, “ichthus”, also formed an anagram which means “Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior.” So every time those early christians used the fish symbol, they were making a statement of faith – Jesus Christ is God’s Son and my Savior.

          A few years back, a number of Christians started putting the fish symbol on the backs of their cars. Nothing very controversial about that, hardly the basis for a heated debate – although it did give rise to a pretty good “Seinfeld” episode where Elaine yanks the fish symbol off her boyfriend David Putty’s car. But the story didn’t stop there. The bumper stickers evolved. Some Christians began to display fish symbols, not with the word “ichthus” inside, but with the word “truth” instead. Often, these were the same Christians who appeared before local school boards insisting that creationism be taught in school, side by side with the theory of evolution. And suddenly the bumper sticker debate swung into high gear. That initial non-controversial fish spawned an entire school of fish. One of them featured a similar looking fish, but this fish had little feet and inside the fish was the word “Darwin.” Still another fish had a little dome over it’s head and inside this fish was the word “Alien.” That, it seems, was someone’s humorous suggestion of how human beings first came to Earth. Even our Jewish brothers and sisters got into the act. Some bumper stickers appeared in the shape of a fish and inside was the word “Gefilte”, as in gefilte fish.(1)

          But the bumper stick debate went to new level when one appeared which featured two fish, a big fish with the word “Truth” in it, and a small fish with the word “Darwin” in it. The big fish was devouring the small fish. In other words Truth- as faith defined it - was devouring science. In the great battle of the bumper stickers, biblical truth went head to head with scientific fact, and in the end one claim would devour the other. But does it really have to come to that.

          Rev. Albert Butzer, once wrote that if he were in the bumper sticker business, he would design one with two fish of equal size. One would have the word “ichthus” and the other would have the word “Darwin.” But he would have these fish facing each other, maybe even kissing – not devouring one another. For the truth claims of the Bible and the truth claims of science need not be mutually exclusive. Rather, they can co-exist, side by side, because the truths they proclaim are not contradictory, but rather, complementary.(2)

          While there lots of Christians who argue that the Bible is historically and scientifically accurate to every last detail, there are many other Christians, including most mainline Protestants, who believe that the Bible is not a scientific text at all. For example, Walter Brueggemann has written - “Creation, as understood in the Bible, seeks to explain nothing. Creation faith is rather a doxological response, a hymn of praise, to the wonder that I, that we, that the world exists.”(3)

          The point of the creation story is not to explain HOW God did it – but to simply point out that it was done. God created all that is – the world and everything in it, including us. Science tries to figure out the recipe and the sequence. But religion identifies the Source – God.

          Joseph Sittler, a prominent professor of Theology who used to teach at the University of Chicago, was both utterly serious and wonderfully whimsical when he wrote- “In the creation story we are told who we are. We are given our identity, and if we could understand that, we would stop worrying about whether the antelopes or the cantaloupes came in a certain order.”(4)

          The problem for many people, Christians included, is what do we do with the other truth claims in the Bible. If, as some conservatives believe, we are going to disregard the facts of the Creation story – how are we going to stand by the other claims the Bible makes, claims about how we should live, how we should treat one another and whether Jesus was the Son of God, our savior, risen from the dead? If we don’t take the first story in the Bible as the literal, scientific truth, where do we go from there? How should we understand the rest of the truth claims in the Bible? Doesn’t Pontius Pilate speak for many of us when he asks, “What is truth?” How should we reply?

          In one of his books, Canadian theologian Douglass John Hall offers this helpful distinction. He says that the essence of our Christian belief is not that the words of the Bible are true in and of themselves. Rather, what is true is that to which the Bible points.(5) In it’s own way, the Gospel of John – the book of the New Testament that has the most to say about truth – draws the same distinction.

          The sixteenth chapter of the Gospel of John affirms that the “Holy Spirit will guide us into all truth.” Notice that the text does not say that we have all of the truth already in the Bible or elsewhere. Nor does it claim to be the truth itself. Rather, the text affirms that the Spirit will lead us or guide us into the truth.

          Certainly we have seen this principle at work in the world of science. For centuries humans believed that the sun revolved around the earth. But in the 16th century, a polish astronomer named Copernicus said just the opposite – the earth actually revolved around the sun, the earth was not the center of things. Less than 100 years later the Italian scientist and inventor Galileo supported the Copernican view of the universe, a position that earned him the wrath of the Roman Catholic church. Although Galileo considered himself a loyal catholic, the church did not. They tried him, found him guilty of heresy, and confined him to house arrest. It took the church some 350 years to repent of it’s mistake and restore Galileo to his position as one of the pioneers of modern science. For years the church had clung to a truth claim that turned out to be false, and ultimately the Spirit led Galileo, and later the church into truth.

          We can see that in the life of faith as well. On more than one occasion, we Christians have changed our minds as the Spirit has led us to discover some deeper dimension of the truth. Consider for example, the issue of slavery. For hundreds of years many Christians believed that slavery was a God-given and biblically justified right – says so right in the Bible, “Slaves be subject to your masters.” But we’ve changed our minds about that as the Spirit has guided us into truth.

          For hundreds of years, Christians believed that women should not have any leadership roles in the church – some denominations still believe that. But many have changed their minds about this too as the Spirit has led them into truth, and as a result our denomination, the PCUSA has a great many ordained women as pastors and elders and deacons.

          All of this by way of saying that the Bible continues to point us towards the truth that is still our ahead of us in the future. That truth is bigger, more complex and more mysterious than any book – yes, even the Bible – can contain. There are some Christians who worship the Bible. We Presbyterians and most mainline Protestants do not worship the Bible. Rather, we worship the One to whom the Bible points. And that leads us to the other claim that the Gospel of John makes about the truth.

          In this passage from John 14, we have a conversation between Jesus and the disciples, in which Jesus says he is the truth. He doesn’t say that he points to the truth, although his life may be the most truthful life ever lived; nor that his teachings sound like the truth, although many of them do. Rather, the scripture makes the staggering claim that Jesus himself IS the truth. Do you remember the setting for this claim? Jesus is preparing the disciples for his departure. Soon he will go to the cross. He tells them he is going to prepare a place for them in one of the rooms of God’s house. He assures them they know the way. Thomas pipes up “Lord we don’t know where you are going. How can we know the way?” And Jesus says to him, “I am the way, and the truth and the life; no one goes to the Father except by me.”

          What are we to do with that claim, particularly in these pluralistic times of tolerance in which we live? After all, many of the people we encounter in daily life don’t identify God with Jesus as we do, but with Buddha or Mohammed or the God of Abraham or someone else. Can we continue to believe that Jesus is the truth, especially in a world of many legitimate religions?

          As we saw with the debate about the fish bumper stickers, people tend to take sides and fall into one category or the other. On one side of the debate will be those who insist that Jesus is the truth and that he is the only way to God. They will point to the words of this text and insist that all other religious truth claims are false. Follow Jesus or risk eternal damnation, they say, because he is the only way to God. While there is a great deal in that position that may be true, if we allow that belief to turn into arrogance, the result might just be the perversion of the very Gospel we proclaim. In the past, such a triumphant, exclusive approach launched the Crusades, burned heretics at the stake, and oppressed religious minorities – none of which seems consistent with the Jesus the New Testament proclaims as the truth.

          The other side of the debate insists that Jesus was but one prophet among many, that ultimately all religions lead down the same path, that in the name of tolerance and inclusivity, we must never insist that Jesus is the only truth. But as Douglass John Hall asks, are these the only choices available to us – on the one hand to extol Jesus by excluding everybody who doesn’t name that name; and on the other hand – to minimize Jesus’ place in the Christian faith in order to appear more accepting and inclusive?(6) Are those the only choices?

          Leslie Newbiggin was a minister of the United Reformed Church of the United Kingdom who spent many years as a missionary in South India. Listen to what he has to say about Jesus and truth:

          “The Church proclaims that Jesus is Lord. He is Lord not only of the Church but of the world, not only in the religious life, but in all of life, not merely over some people but over all peoples… And yet, we do not know all that it means to say that Jesus is Lord. We still have to learn as we go along… We are missionaries, but we are also learners. We do not have all the truth, but we know the way along which truth is to be sought and found.”(7) For us, that way is Jesus.

          So what is truth? What is the truth about Jesus? For Christians, it is that Jesus himself is the truth. He lived the truth. Jesus is the way. He lived the way. And Jesus is the life. He lived the life God intended. We don’t for sure everything that means yet, especially as it pertains to other religions with valid faith claims.

          But we do know that if we follow the way in which Jesus guides us and live the way Jesus taught us – we will be led by the Spirit into the truth, and eventually to our place in God’s heavenly mansion.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved April 24th, 2020.

2.    Ibid…

3.    Ibid…

4.    Ibid…

5.    Ibid…

6.    Ibid…

7.    Ibid…

5-3-2020 The Best Revenge

Thomas J Parlette

“The Best Revenge”

1 Peter 2: 18-25

5/3/20

          There’s a good chance this has happened to you. You’re having dinner in a nice quiet restaurant, or enjoying a movie on the big screen (back in the days when we could do things like that), or maybe just sitting quietly in the doctor’s office reading a magazine – when the silence is shattered by some inconsiderate individual nearby carrying on a long cell phone conversation at a volume level that nobody within 50 feet can ignore. And you are irritated.

          Now, you’re not the type to make a scene and get into a public altercation – but wouldn’t it be cool if you had in your pocket some sort of electronic jamming device that would allow you to shut down that cell phone with a touch of a button?

          Well, if you’d like to be able to do that, and I know I’m not alone in that desire, I’ve got good news for you. You may soon be able to get online and buy such a gadget for a few bucks on Amazon.

          According to an article in the Wall Street Journal, titled “Revenge by Gadget”, there’s an emerging subcategory in the electronics world that is churning out little gizmos designed to neutralize annoying behavior. Here’s just a sampling of things now available:

1.    A $50 device that quiets other people’s dogs by answering their barks with an electronic squeal that humans can’t hear. And it’s disguised as a birdhouse so the dog’s owners won’t know that you are the culprit.

2.    You can also get a luminescent screen that fits in your vehicle’s rear window that, at the touch of a button, will flash any one of 5 messages, along with a computer generated face to match, kind of like an emoji. I will leave it to your imagination to figure out what some of the messages say. Word is that the company has received many requests to add images of certain hand gestures to their options as well.

3.    There is also a jacket that, when activated with a controller, delivers an electric shock to anyone who touches the person wearing it. These jackets have drawn some strong interest from women who wish to send a message to certain men with wandering hands.

That all sounds nice, doesn’t it? I bet you heard at least gadget on that list that piqued your interest. Revenge can be sweet – but it can also be costly.

          There’s an old fable about two merchants who were fierce competitors and had grown to hate each other.

          One day, the Lord sent an angel to one of the merchants with a remarkable offer. “The Lord God has chosen to give you a great gift,” said the angel. “Whatever you desire, you will receive. Ask for riches, a long life, healthy children, whatever you want – and the wish will be granted.”

          “But there is one catch. Whatever you receive, your competitor will get twice as much. If you ask for a thousand gold coins – he will receive two thousand. If you ask for fame – he will twice as famous as you. This is God’s way of teaching you a lesson – you ought not hate one another.”

          The merchant thought about the angel’s offer for a minute. “You will give me anything I request?” he asked.

          “Yes,” said the angel.

          “And my competitor will receive twice as much?”

“Yes.”

The merchants face grew hard and he said, “Then I ask that you strike me blind in one eye.”

                   Revenge often sounds sweet, but it’s cost can be high.

          All of which leads us to this passage for today, for revenge would seem to be at the center of these verses from 1st Peter.

          This is a difficult piece of scripture we have here. It’s one of those passages that scholars call “a problem text” or “a hard sayings passage – for obvious reasons. In fact, if I were following the lectionary to the letter this morning, we would not have heard verse 18, the part about “Slaves, accept the authority of your masters…”

          The problem arises because this passage has been used to justify oppression – oppression of slaves, oppression of women, oppression of anyone in an abusive situation.

          But that’s not really the point here. To say this passage encourages or condones submission in situations we CAN and SHOULD do something about, is to misread and misuse the scripture.

          These words from Peter are first and foremost practical advice as to how Christians should live in an alien and often hostile culture. What we have this morning is NOT and ideal we should aspire to, but rather a nuts and bolts analysis of how to get along in a situation you can not control – something all of us are struggling with right now.

          Keep in mind, in the ancient world, it was not a question of whether slavery was right or wrong – it simply was. It was a fact of life.

          In our modern context, it is almost universally accepted that forced servitude is wrong – submission to abusive behavior is wrong. As Christians, we need to speak out against injustice, abuse and oppression whenever we see it. That is true. It is biblical and it is right.

          But here in 1st Peter this morning, Peter is writing to Christian slaves – there’s no getting around it. In the late first century AD, when the Christian church spread from Palestine into the larger Roman Empire – a greater and greater percentage of the church were slaves. In the ancient world slaves could be anybody. Slaves were a legal commodity, bought and sold. Some were born into slavery, others were captured in war, and some even sold themselves into slavery to pay off their debts. In the first century AD, when Peter writes, about a quarter of the people in the Roman Empire were slaves. Such slaves could be doctors, building contractors or business managers, having great responsibilities but receiving little money and almost no rights.

          One of the big questions the church faced was the problem of how Christian slaves were to live. Were the supposed to go about their daily life of service, or did their faith teach them to revolt? At the same time, the church was beginning to face quite a bit of persecution. So Peter’s instructions walk the line between staying faithful to the Gospel and gaining acceptance and legitimacy for the young faith community. To revolt would mean an end to the church. But the faith also taught that God was the Master. “What do we do? How do we live?” was the question of the day.

          And for Peter, the best thing to do was to use Jesus as a model. Follow Jesus’ example, and you’ll be fine.

          That has always been the basic message of this passage. In whatever situation you find yourself, be imitators of Christ. Acknowledge the legitimate authority over you, do your duties, follow the stay at home orders and social distancing policies in place – but be imitators of Christ.  Participate in things that bring healing, rather than things that cause disease. As Peter says, “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving an example, so that you should follow in his steps.”

          One of the things that brought that view sharply into focus more than a century ago was a novel by Charles Sheldon called “In His Steps.” In fact, the book begins with the pastor of a fictional congregation working on a sermon from these verses here today. Sheldon’s book was written in 1897, and it became a blockbuster, selling over 8 million copies – and it never has really gone out of print since.

          The book tells the story of what happened in the lives of members of a church after they committed themselves to approach the decisions in their workplaces and other arenas of life by asking themselves what Jesus would do and then trying to follow his example. The results were life-changing for the members of that congregation and their community.

          That was only a story, of course, but the spark for the book came from the author’s own experience. At the time, Sheldon was a minister in Topeka, Kansas – but before that, he had been in social work. As an experiment, he once disguised himself as an unemployed printer. He then walked the streets of Topeka to see what would happen. What he discovered was indifference among many professing Christians toward someone in need. That shocked and saddened him, but it also led him to start imagining what it would be like if Christians did not compartmentalize their lives and allowed their Christianity to be equally applied in all situations. And his book, In His Steps, was born.

          You probably remember the WWJD campaign that was all the rage a number of years ago. It swept through the culture so completely that it quickly became the subject of ridicule – and honestly, that’s too bad. It stood for “What Would Jesus Do,” and it was an outgrowth of “In His Steps, and this passage from Peter, “you should follow in his steps.”

          The real subject, then, of this passage is not turning the other Cheech or submitting in all situations. The subject isn’t even saying “NO” to vengeful acts, by word or gadget. No, the real subject here is following Jesus – for real. It means looking at his footsteps, recorded in the stories of scripture, and doing our best to put our feet where Jesus’ have been. It means modelling our lives after his, and doing what Jesus would have done.

          So the best revenge is actually no revenge at all.

          The best revenge is following Jesus for real.

          May that be the model for our lives.

          May God be praised. Amen.

4-27-2020 Home and Emmaus

Luke 24:13-35

Rev. Jay Rowland

Sunday April 26, 2020

Many folks these days are doing a lot more walking. Springtime always has this effect on us. But ever since the stay-at-home restriction was issued a couple weeks ago I’ve seen many more people walking in my neighborhood. The image and activity of walking is a wonderful touch-stone for today’s story from Luke’s gospel--often referred to as the Walk to Emmaus. Peter Hanson provides a wonderful entre to this story, helping us enter into this story given the current global crisis (from the d365 daily devotional for Wed 4/22/20 d365.org):

Imagine you’re walking with a friend, keeping your “social distance,” comparing thoughts about our current situation, sort of like Cleopus, when suddenly, someone interrupts your conversation to ask what you’re talking about. But when you tell him, he honestly replies,

“Kah … Kah-row... kah-what-now?”

“How do you not know about this?” you ask. “This world-stopping virus that has millions of people very sick--and killed thousands; closed restaurants and schools, the reason why there’s so much space between us as we walk along--uh, by the way, would you please back up a few steps?---any of this sound familiar ??? No????”

We’d probably be rolling our eyes and biting our tongues with such a stranger at this point. And that’s Cleopas’ strong reaction to the stranger who intrudes upon his conversation with his companion. But he quickly settles down and treats the stranger with compassion rather than contempt, patiently sharing what he knows--including their devastation, their dashed hopes and the equally-hard-to-comprehend news from the women at the tomb.

We may perhaps be in different “places” from one another in our response to and our coping with this pandemic. The walk to Emmaus is a vivid reminder of the importance of talking to each other, sharing our own stories of sorrow, unmet expectations, and dashed hopes; our sense of loss, our stresses, our fears and apprehension. Sharing and talking it out is a way for us to keep watch together for hope and for new beginnings as we walk this walk together. For the Lord surely blesses such conversations, using them to awaken our compassion and deepen our connection with each other--at a time when this is what we most need to keep our hope and our humanity alive.

That’s what I see happening between the two companions on the walk to Emmaus. They’re processing everything that’s just happened--the awful death of Jesus on Friday, his public assassination/crucifixion by the State, but also the perplexing account of the women at the tomb that Jesus is … alive(!?????) It’s all just too much to take in. So they’re walking … and talking … with plenty of long pauses in between. Richard Swanson points out the significance of the distance between Jerusalem to Emmaus Luke identifies for us: it’s a two-hour walk; then another two-hour walk back to Jerusalem. Many folks appreciate how therapeutic a good walk can be. It helps clear the cluttered mind. Therapeutic but also sacred. There’s something sacred about the walk Cleopas and his companion are on. Just like any and every walk we’ve taken together or alone since the invasion of COVID-19.

As the two companions walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus, they are walking toward someplace like home, and if not home, then perhaps at least some distance between themselves and the place their hope turned to despair, the place where the world came crashing down on them, and also, strangely, the place where they were told something too-good-to-be-true (rationally speaking), too good to let themselves hope … All of this swirling in their heads and in their conversation as their feet take step after step forward. They are moving toward some “place” of stability, someplace familiar where they might recognize life the way it used to be, some “place” where they might at least be recognized or better, recognizable to themselves--a very human response to the trauma and the powerlessness they have experienced.

In The Magnificent Defeat, Frederick Buechner identifies Emmaus as the place to run to when we have lost hope or don’t know what to do, a place of escape, of forgetting, of giving up, of deadening our senses and our minds and maybe our hearts, too. For some that may be home. For others, it may simply be any place which offers relief from the burdens of life. Buechner even asserts that for some, Emmaus may be going to church on Sunday.1

Wherever that “place” may be for any of us, it’s a deeply human response to trauma and danger--this impulse to move, to get to our Emmaus. And if our Emmaus is church then praise God! For at its best, faith community, it seems to me, is that rare place where we truly experience that we are life companions. Fun fact: the word “companion” is rooted in the Latin words “with” (com) and “bread” (panis).2

The resurrection appearances of Jesus are, above all, powerful glimpses into faith community, that is, our community of believers, doubters, and struggle-ers gathering and breaking apart, and gathering again, coming together to share experiences, memories, difficulties and hope. Most importantly, faith community is the place where we are gathered and claimed by the promises and actions of Jesus. Whenever we gather together to worship we seek and shine the light of Scripture on our struggles in order to find new, deeper understandings about what’s going on in our lives.

And so, after spending considerable time ... and miles … and words … seeking some intellectual understanding of all that has happened, when at last Cleopas and his unnamed “companion” sit down together at table and break bread with the stranger, at last they come to see with their hearts what (Who) was with them all along.

Next time we share communion together, remember, the word companion literally means, “with bread.” We are companions, we are a faith community whose main identity is “with bread”—Bread of Life. Without this identity established deep in our “dna,” in our very marrow, there’s nothing to distinguish us from any other community group no matter how wonderful or helpful such groups can be. Our community was formed and fashioned in and around a particular community narrative.

First the disciples’ world is turned upside down by the life of Jesus. Then their re-oriented world is suddenly obliterated by his death. None of them has had time to absorb it all. Think about that. The first days after the death of someone close to us, the first days are a blur, a haze, an effort to simply function—to get through the day. Others need us or expect us to be functional. That’s where all the disciples are after Jesus is assassinated. They are living in that blurry haze when the strange, new stories of Jesus’ appearance begin to spread among them.

There are times in our lives when we are shaken to the core of our foundation—what we believe in, what we count on—too fast to process and integrate. This leaves us disoriented. Lost. Faith community, even a couple of companions, helps re-gather us, re-orient us, helping us move toward some peace and balance, which then helps us begin to re-build a new foundation, together.

This is one of those times. This is partly why the pandemic is causing so much wide-spread anxiety and stress previously unimagined. The lethal threat of this lurking virus has shaken our foundation--our orientation to life and the world around us. It has challenged our presumptions about safety and security and justice, and mortality.

Like the disciples long ago, our world has been flipped upside-down. We’re suddenly trying to integrate new information and experience. Like the disciples after Jesus’ death, many of us feel especially anxious and uncertain about the future. COVID-19 is an invisible enemy, impossible to ignore or flee or combat. And so in the midst of all the anxiety, stress, and fear, we’re not sure what to believe, or what to do, or think, or expect, or even hope for. And so we find ourselves today on that road to Emmaus with two disciple-companions who were themselves trying to make sense of their world after following the One who had brought new meaning, new hope, new trust to their lives.

In the end, their experience of the Risen Christ was fleeting (“and suddenly their eyes were opened and they recognized him. Then he vanished from their sight”). Ours tends to be fleeting too. But perhaps that’s by design. Perhaps it is only afterwards, looking through the rear-view mirror that we are able to recognize and integrate the sacred and the holy better than we can in the moment. I am convinced that God is speaking to us today, in the midst of this global crisis, in the midst of our collective disorientation, through the encounter of Cleopas and the earliest Christians with the Risen Jesus, but also through our own fleeting encounters with Him too, in the breaking of bread, in the sharing of our stories, in our study of Scripture.

Because Scripture tells us more than something that happened to other people, long ago and far away. Scripture actually opens us to the amazing somethings, the wonderful appearings, the Life-sustaining Presence of God happening here, today, in our lives, too. If we can allow our eyes to be opened, then maybe our hearts, too, will burn within us. As we continue to struggle with questions we just can’t answer on our own, let alone understand, when we are shaken to our core by what’s happening around us, Scripture tells us we will find restoration and life together, often walking among us, as together we walk and talk and work our way with Jesus toward home and Emmaus.

 _______________________

Notes:

1 This sermon integrates material by Kathryn Matthews, www.ucc.org/worship_samuel_sermon_seeds/

2 companion root words, Latin, com- (“with”) and panis (“bread, food”), www.merriam- webster.com/dictionary/companion

4-12-2020 He is Not Here

Thomas J Parlette

“He is not here”

Mark 16: 1-8

4/12/20, Easter

Dr. John Trent tells about a wedding video he once saw. The video was shot from the back of the church looking up the aisle toward the bride and groom. Because of the camera angle, you could see several members of the congregation. Suddenly, during the vows, a man jumped up out of his pew and yelled “Yes, Yes, Yes!”, as he pumped his fist in the air. Then he froze, realized where he was and slid down in his seat – and then very slowly pulled some ear phones out of his ears. It turns out he had been listening to the Vikings/Packers football game, and the Vikings had just scored a touchdown.

Easter is that kind of day for us, isn’t it? A day to pump our fists in the air and “Yes, Yes, Yes!” Yes is what Easter is all about. God’s yes to humanity. God’s yes to Jesus and all Jesus taught us about the meaning of life. God’s yes to the victory of life over death, of love over hate, of faith over fear, of hope over despair. Everything about Easter says, “Yes, Yes, Yes.” We are filled with joy, and we can’t hold back the rejoicing.

Eugene Smith was a minister who never sang much because he didn’t have much of a voice and couldn’t read music. But one year, on Easter Sunday, his daughter persuaded him to sing along with the choir when it came time for the Hallelujah Chorus. And he got really caught up in the last part, when they were singing all those hallelujahs. He got so caught up and wasn’t paying attention when the director stopped, the choir stopped and organ went silent. And he let out one final, solo “Hallelujah.” Afterwards he said, “They stopped too soon. Since that Easter Sunday I’ve been going around with a couple of Hallelujah’s stuck inside me just waiting to get out.”

That’s Easter for us. A time to celebrate Christ’s victory over death. God’s “Yes” to life fills us with so many Hallelujahs that we have no room for them all. Christ is Risen – He is not here – Yes!- Hallelujah!

But then we turn to Mark, and we find something very different. There’s not much Easter joy in Mark, is there? There’s not a lot of celebration going on in this text. Most New Testament scholars agree that Mark ended his Gospel right there at verse 8. If you were following along in your own Bible, you may have noticed that there are 2 different ending provided in most translations – a shorter ending, and a longer ending. These two different endings are found in some, but not all ancient manuscripts of Mark, some of which are considered to be reliable copies, and others somewhat less reliable. They represent an attempt by the early church to give proper closure to Mark’s gospel. It does just seem to end too abruptly, doesn’t it?

The women come to the tomb, hoping to anoint Jesus’ body with spices and they come upon a mysterious young man, dressed in a white robe, who announces the resurrection.

“He is not here. Don’t worry. He has gone ahead of you, to Galilee, just as he told you.”

“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them. And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” And that’s it. That’s all Mark wrote.

Not a very satisfying ending, is it? You can understand why scribes may have tried to add a sentence or two, just to round off the story. Tom Long has written that “Mark’s ending not only fails to provide a proper narrative closure, it also lurches to an awkward grammatical stop. A more literal translation would read, “To no one anything they said; afraid they were for…” and it trails off there in mid-sentence. It’s as if Mark, sounding remarkably like Yoda – “to no one they spoke… afraid they were…” – it’s as if he were dragged away from his writing desk while trying to finish the story.

An unsatisfying ending, badly written. A lot less joy in Mark than we might expect. Not much celebration here either. The fist pumping “Yes” just isn’t there, and in it’s place is a sense of discomfort and uncertainty.

In his commentary on Mark, Donald Juel tells the story of one of his students who had memorized the whole of the Gospel of Mark for a dramatic staged reading for a live audience. After careful study, the student had decided to go with the scholarly consensus regarding the ending. At his first performance, however, after he spoke that ambiguous last verse, he stood there awkwardly shifting from one foot to other, the audience waiting for more, waiting for closure, waiting for a proper ending. Finally, after several anxious seconds, he said, “Amen” – and made his exit. The relieved audience applauded loudly and appreciatively. Upon reflection though, the student realized that by providing the audience a satisfying conclusion, his “Amen” had actually betrayed the dramatic intention of the text. So at the next performance, when he reached to final verse, he simply paused for a half a beat – and left the stage in silence. “The discomfort and uncertainty within the audience was obvious,” said Juel, “and as people exited… the buzz of conversation was dominated by the experience of the non-ending.”

Instead joy and celebration, Mark leaves us with discomfort and uncertainty. And that exactly what he wants. After the announcement of Jesus’ resurrection, we are left wondering, “Ok, now what? What do we do now?” So why does Mark do this? What’s he up to with this non-ending?

Well, let’s look for a clue in Mark’s story. What does Jesus do after his resurrection? Where does he go?

Interestingly, he doesn’t go right back into Jerusalem. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit odd? Wouldn’t you expect that Jesus would go back to Jerusalem, the major city in the region, the site of his humiliation and disgrace, to celebrate his resurrection? Wouldn’t you think that Jesus would go right back to Pontius Pilate and show him what a mistake he’d made? But he doesn’t do that. Mark tells us that “He is not here. Jesus goes ahead of you – back to Galilee.”

Mark isn’t concerned with giving us a happy ending. He doesn’t seem to care about wrapping up his loose ends into a nice, neat package. Mark isn’t interested in a celebration – at least not the kind of celebration we expect. Instead, Mark is looking to leave us with something else. Mark wants to leave us with a charge. By saying, “He is not here. He goes ahead of you to Galilee.” – Mark wants to leave us with a challenge and a mission.

First of all, consider that phrase “Jesus goes ahead of you.” In his death and resurrection, Jesus goes ahead of us into the great unknown of death and conquers it’s power. Every once in awhile, someone asks me, “Why do we say that Jesus descended into Hell in the Apostles Creed. Why did Jesus go to hell. It’s a good question. For many years the church has believed in an idea called “the harrowing of hell.” It’s the idea that in the three days that Jesus was dead, between his crucifixion and his resurrection – he went to the place of the dead, preached to the spirits entombed there, and led them out. That way, everyone who had ever lived had the opportunity to hear the Gospel. That idea found it’s way into our theology in the Apostle’s Creed, where we affirm our belief that Jesus descended into hell – the very depth of human pain and suffering and sin. Thus the church affirmed that there is no corner of creation, no forgotten part, no over-looked person. Jesus is going on before us – even to the depths of hell, to conquer the power of sin and death. He goes there before us to save us.

And now consider where Jesus goes after his resurrection – He goes back to Galilee. Why? What’s in Galilee? What’s so special about Galilee?

Well, to be honest – there’s not much in Galilee. There’s nothing particularly special in Galilee. It’s just a place where regular people make their living – fishing, farming or herding sheep – making their own clothes, preparing their own meals, just going about the daily routine of life. There’s nothing special about Galilee.

And maybe that’s precisely the point!

On the first day of his eternal life, Jesus goes back to sight of his early ministry, he goes back to the beginning. Jesus goes back to the place where his disciples were just learning the ropes, where he taught and healed and traveled the countryside, preaching about God’s Kingdom. He goes back to Galilee.

And that’s where the disciples were supposed to meet him. “There you will see him, just as he told you,” says Mark. It’s as if Mark’s gospel story is on a loop, repeating itself over and over and over again. I

n the first chapter, Mark wrote “Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the Good News of God.” Now, after the resurrection, instead of celebrating Jesus’ triumph over the grave – Mark starts the story over again. He drops us off right at the beginning. In other words, reader, listener – this story isn’t over. Leave the tomb, he is not here. Leave the tomb and go back and read it again, listen to it again. In fact, live it again! Now that you have been to the cross and to the tomb – Live the Gospel. Start over again, in your own Galilee. Live the Gospel again in your own time, in your own place, in your own hometown. Live the Gospel again – for he is not here.

Confronted with the announcement of the resurrection, the women and the disciples didn’t know what to do. They were amazed – but they were also terrified. They didn’t immediately understand that Jesus’ resurrection was really the beginning of life of discipleship – not merely a celebration of eternal life.

It’s like something that Max Otto once wrote. He says, “Along the upper reaches of the Ohio River, where the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains hem in one of America’s most beautiful streams, you sometimes awake at daybreak to find that a heavy mist has blotted out the landscape, leaving only a narrow circle of visibility. When this happens, you resign yourself to the weather and wait for a change – or you may do the work that you have on hand, with the best cheer you can muster, calling out to the neighbor whose shadowy form you can just barely see. If you keep busy, the mist rises. You see the River rolling on toward the mighty Mississippi. Then you see the opposite shore, the houses of the city, the taller buildings, the towers of schools, the steeples of the churches. Slowly the mist climbs the hills, hangs for a little while, like a veil on the summit, then vanishes, disclosing a blue sky. And the work you began in the fog, you continue in the sunlight.”

The disciples were in a fog following the crucifixion and death of Jesus – even after his resurrection, the fog lingered. The fear and the terror, the discomfort and the uncertainty still hung about them like a mist.

But back in Galilee, things cleared up. The fog lifted to reveal the light of a beautiful new day. What they began in the fog, they continued in the sunlight. The fog has lifted – a new day has begun.

For today we celebrate the resurrection of our savior, Jesus Christ – the one who has gone before us and conquered the power of sin and death. We pump our fists in the air and shout “Yes!” as the Hallelujahs come spilling out!

But we are also given a challenge, we are given a mission – for Jesus also went before us back to Galilee. We are called to go back to everyday life. Go back to the beginning, says Mark. Easter is more than a celebration of eternal life. Easter is the celebration of a new life – of discipleship. Not the celebration we might expect – but a celebration all the same.

Read the story one more time, my friends. Better yet – live the story. Live the story of the man from Galilee. For hew is not here. He goes before us, back into life. Come, live as a disciple of our Risen Lord, Jesus Christ. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Amen.

4-5-2020 The Public Language of our God

Thomas J Parlette

“The Public Language of our God

Mark 11: 1-11

4/5/20, Palm Sunday 

“We’re good at planning!

Give us a task force

And a project

And we’re off and running!

No trouble at all!

Going to the village and finding the colt,

Even negotiating with the owners

Is right down our alley.

And how we love a parade!

In a frenzy of celebration

We gladly focus on Jesus

And generously throw our coats

And palms in his path.

And we can shout praise

Loudly enough

To make the Pharisees complain.

It’s all so good!

It’s in between parades that

We don’t do so well.

From Sunday to Sunday

We forget our Hosannas.

Between parades

The stones will have to shout

Because we don’t.

          Ann Weems wrote those words in her book “Kneeling in Jerusalem.” Between the parades, we don’t do so well. Between this triumphant parade into Jerusalem and the somber parade – the walk of shame down the Via Dolorosa on Good Friday – we don’t do so well. Somewhere along the way our Hosannas are forgotten.

                Today we jump into the story of Holy Week as we find it in the Gospel of Mark. Mark is the earliest of the 4 Gospels – the one that all the other writers seemed to have available to them as a reference. It’s also the shortest, the most “bare bones” retelling of the Gospel. Things happen very quickly in Mark. The language is simple – direct – sparse. There is not as much literary flair in Mark, and some of the most beloved Gospel stories are nowhere to be found. There is no birth narrative, no Good Samaritan, no Prodigal Son. There are bits and pieces of the Sermon on the Mount – but nothing like what Matthew gives us. In Mark, we don’t find the expressive language of Luke, the Old Testament references of Matthew, or the other-worldly imagery of John. Mark just gives us the facts of Jesus’ life, simple and direct – from his baptism to his death – and he does it in half the time that Matthew, Luke and John need to tell the story.

          As a result, many scholars over the years have thought of Mark’s gospel as rather simplistic. Mark earned the reputation of being a bit of a “theological lightweight” compared with it’s 3 cousins. For many years, biblical scholars have gravitated to the longer, more complex gospels as their area of concentration. Mark just seemed to simple.

          But sometimes, simple is best. Sometimes the best stories are the shortest ones. Mark packs a lot into every word he writes. He is sparse – yes. But Mark is still quite profound.

          For instance, this morning’s passage – the triumphal entry into Jerusalem – has two features that we shouldn’t overlook. According to Ched Myers: This procession is the opening round of the struggle over the character of messianic politics.”

          First of all, the people went ahead of Jesus and shouted out their belief that this ancestor of David would restore the temple, the Romans were history and the Lord’s Kingdom was coming. Then parade went first. We have no idea how long after, but Mark uses the word “then” – as if Jesus was separated from the crowd, riding by himself, keeping some distance between himself and the crowd’s expectations. Just one word – but it’s packed with meaning.

          Secondly, Jesus’ next stop is the temple itself. When John tells this story, he has Jesus clear out the moneychangers at this point – but not Mark. We can still hear the crowd chanting “Hosanna” in the background, believing that Jesus – as the Messiah – will use force to take back the temple and establish God’s reign. But that’s not what Mark tells us. Here – Jesus goes to the temple, he looks around a bit… and does nothing. Nothing Happens. He just looks around and heads back to Bethany. Again, just a few words – but they are packed with meaning.

          As Ched Myers points out, “Many have puzzled over this verse, complaining that it adds nothing to the narrative; but this is precisely it’s power – Nothing Happens. Mark has drawn the reader into traditional messianic symbols, only to suddenly abort the mission. This prepares us for the shock when Jesus does intervene in the temple – not to restore, but to disrupt it’s operations.”

          Perhaps that’s why we don’t do so well between parades. It’s too hard to deal with the shock and disappointment over the public language of God. We expect Jesus to come and solve everything. We expect Jesus to come and put everything right that is wrong. We expect Jesus to come and throw out the Roman armies and the corrupt politicians, heal the sick, wire out cancer and the coronavirus, cure Aids, alleviate our sorrows, eliminate our griefs, and stomp out all the sufferings and pains of life. We stand with the crowd and we expect that Jesus will ACT like the Messiah we EXPECT.

          The story is told that when Queen Victoria lived in Balmoral Castle in Scotland, she sometimes liked to walk through the surrounding countryside incognito – no guards, no ladies-in-waiting, just John Brown, her faithful servant, following at a discreet distance. One day, while on one of her walkabouts, the Queen came across a flock of sheep being driven by a young boy. The Queen accidentally got in the way, and the boy shouted, “Hey, old lady, get out of the way!”

          The Queen smiled, said nothing, and moved on. But her servant, John Brown, hurried up to the boy and scolded him, “How dare you, you just insulted the Queen.”

          To which the boy responded, “Well if she expects to be treated like a Queen, she ought to dress like a Queen!”

          That’s how the crowd in Jerusalem felt. Perhaps that’s what we all feel sometimes. “Jesus, if you want to us to treat you like God, then act like God. Let’s see some of that righteous power and glory we’ve heard so much about. Come wipe out this pandemic and heal those who are suffering.”

          But Jesus gives us a very different demonstration of the public language of God. Indeed Jesus himself is the public language of our God. In Jesus – his life, his ministry, his actions and his attitude – God speaks to us. As William Willimon says:

“We wanted Jesus to come into town on a warhorse – but Jesus rode a donkey.

 We wanted Jesus to go up to Capitol Hill and fix all the political problems – but he went to the Temple to pray instead.

We wanted Jesus to get organized, mobilize his forces, get the revolution going and set things right – but Jesus gathered with his friends in a quiet upper room, broke bread and drank wine.

We wanted Jesus to go head-to-head with the powers that be – but he just hung there, on a Friday from noon till three, with hardly a word.

It wasn’t that Jesus didn’t do anything; it was that Jesus didn’t do the things we wanted him to do. It wasn’t that Jesus didn’t intervene; it was that Jesus rode in on a donkey.”

          It’s not that nothing happens here in Mark. It’s just that what happens is different from what we might expect, it’s different from what we are prepared for.

          Back in the 1990’s, a couple of filmmakers went over to East Germany to make a documentary about the Berlin Wall. The filmmaker asked many of the government officials how it had all happened – this seemingly spontaneous movement of the people that in a few short weeks led to the demise of the Berlin Wall and the eventual collapse of East Germany’s once invincible security apparatus.

          What the filmmakers heard was that it began, oddly enough, in the church. In St. Nicholas Church in Leipzig, worshippers had been quietly praying for freedom for over 40 years. Their prayer meeting ultimately grew so large that on October 8th, 1989, over 70,000 people filled the streets. A former security officer spoke about his desire to use force to put down the rebellion, but how, in the end, all he could do was stare in amazement at the vast crowd in front of his headquarters. He said, “We were prepared for everything – everything except candles and prayers.”

          The people spoke in a language that the government didn’t expect. The public language of God is not what we expect either. The public language of God, expressed in Jesus, is all about showing power in a different way, it’s about showing power by sharing the suffering of his people – not simply wiping it away.

          As Paul Claudel says, “Jesus did not come to explain suffering or take it away. He came to fill it with his presence.”

          He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, suffering humiliation and torture, and died on a cross as the public language of a God who suffers with us.

          As Robert Capon says, “God is not like an over-eager car mechanic who roams about night and day ready to pounce upon us motorists in distress, fix the transmission, and send us on our way. God id more like the hitchhiker who comes upon us on the side of the road and sits in the car with us through the night, weeping with us, and showing empathy for our plight.”

          Jesus is the living expression of a God who cares so much about us that he would suffer right alongside us. It would be too easy to do what the world expects – fix us up and send us on our way, to wipe away all suffering and make us immune from the hardships of life.

          It is a far harder thing to sit in the car through the night, suffering right along with us.

          But as Ann Weems says – we don’t do so well between the parades. We have a hard time with this unexpected public language of God.

          The question for this Palm Sunday, for this Passion week is…

-         Will we worship a God who speaks to us like that?

-         Will we lay our lives before one who speaks not in strength, but in weakness, who acts not with power but with obedience and suffering.

Can you follow the narrow way that God in Jesus, walks this week?

How will you do between the parades?

May God be praised. Amen.

3-29-2020 Because I Said I Would

Thomas J Parlette

“Because I Said I Would”

Ezekiel 37: 1-14

3/29/20 

          What would be your dream job? If you could pick any job, what would it be? Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

          How about this one – would you like to work for the Queen of England? In February 2018, Britain’s royal family posted a want ad for a digital communications officer to manage the social media account for the Queen. For about $38,000 a year, the digital communications officer would post articles, videos and photos about the Queen’s state visits and royal business on You Tube, Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

          The Queen has a worldwide following on social media. And she has a certain image to maintain. It would be a huge responsibility to be the spokesperson for the Queen, or for any major public figure for that matter. In addition to social media experience and a college degree, the royal want ad said the Queen was looking for someone “Innovative and with creative flair” who would do their job as part of a “fast-paced and dynamic team.”(1) For some people that would be a dream job, especially if you’re a fan of the royals.

          But there are some jobs that you just wouldn’t to have under any circumstances. For instance, the job of a prophet. It’s a tough and thank-less job to be a spokesperson for God. No one wants to hear hard truths. No one wants to be told that they are sinful and rebellious and on the wrong side of God’s will. It’s a tough life being a prophet.

          There’s an old story about a medieval Jewish astrologer named Moishe who prophesied that the king’s favorite horse would die soon. Sure enough the horse died a short time later. The king got angry at Moishe, certain that his prophecy had brought about the horse’s death. So he summoned Moishe and commanded him, “Ok prophet, tell me when you will die!”

          Moishe could see that the king was plotting to kill him immediately no matter what answer he gave, so he had to proceed with caution. “I do not know when I will die, your highness. I only know that whenever I do die, the king will die three days later.” Moishe went on to live a long and happy life.(2) It’s a tough job being a prophet, and sometimes dangerous as well.

          Prophets have one job- to speak for God. And sometimes God has some uncomfortable things to say to us. Pastor John Ritenbaugh says, “When a person is freezing to death, he feels a pleasant numbness that he does not want to end. He just goes to sleep as he is freezing to death. But when heat is applied, and the blood begins rushing into the affected areas, pain immediately occurs. Though it hurts, the pain is indicative of healing. God sends a prophet to people who are cold in their relationship with God – spiritually freezing to death – though the people may want to stay just as they are. The prophet turns the heat on, and they become angry when the prophet is actually working to make them better.”(3)

          So instead of viewing prophets as killjoys, what if we should view them as symbols of hope. Because if God had given up on his people, God wouldn’t have bothered to send a prophet. God wouldn’t send anyone. If God sends a prophet, that means there is still hope.

          Ezekiel faced a difficult task because he was called to prophesy to the Jewish people at one of the lowest points in their history. The small nation of Israel had been under siege and finally conquered by the mighty army of Babylonia. Jerusalem was in ruins, the Temple was destroyed. Ezekiel, along with thousands of other Jews, was forced into exile to the capitol city of Babylon, in modern day Iraq.

          Things were looking bleak. The center of worship destroyed, the community scattered, families separated. How do you rebuild your life when everything has been taken away from you? Their life was in their worship, in their identity as God’s chosen people. Did this mean that had ended his covenant with the nation of Israel? Had the people lost their identity as the people of the One, True God? God sent Ezekiel to these desperate and broken people to answer that very question.

          Ezekiel says, “The hand of the Lord was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I said, Lord, only you know.”

          The he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say, Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Lord says to these bones; I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.”

          So I prophesied as I was commanded. And suddenly there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and the tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them.

          Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, This is what the Lord says: come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.”

          So I prophesied as the Lord commanded, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood on their feet – a vast army.

          Then the Lord said: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off. Therefore prophesy and say to them “This is what the Lord says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put my spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I, the Lord, have spoken, and I have done it declares the Lord.” Ezekiel brought a word of hope in a hopeless time. A word of hope I think we need to hear right now.

          In 1665, the bubonic plague swept through the city of London. In his book A Journal of the Plague Year, Daniel Defoe described the devastation we would have seen if we walked the streets of London back then. People who had the means to escape the city, did so. Others barricaded themselves in their houses. More than 1500 died each day. Bodies were piled up in open pits because there wasn’t enough ground or enough grave diggers to give the dead a proper burial. Defoe writes that men roamed the streets, prophesying God’s coming destruction on the city. One prophet wandered naked through the streets chanting “Oh, the great and dreadful God. Oh, the great and dreadful God…”(4) I don’t mean to scare anybody, but I admit that hits a little too close to home these days. Thankfully we’re not there yet.

          God begins the exchange with a strange question: “Son of man, can these bones live?” Why even ask that question at this point? Why does God try to interject hope in our most hopeless times? When Adam and Eve sinned in the Garden of Eden and hid themselves from God, God made clothes for them. When Abram and Sarai had reached their golden years without having children, God promised them a son and gave them Isaac. When Esther was a teenage bride in a foreign kingdom, God gave her the courage to stand up to a heartless king and save her people. In hopeless situations, God keeps giving people hope.

          So where is the hope in the Valley of Dry Bones? We find our hope in this: God always keeps promises. If God tells you that things are going to turn out alright, trust that God always keeps promises. God explains to Ezekiel that this valley of dry bones represents the nation of Israel. They were dead, hopeless and cut off from the power of God. But they will not remain that way. No matter how circumstances look now, no matter what the history books or the politicians or the pundits say – listen to what God says: “My people, I will bring you back. Know that I am God. I will put my Spirit in you, and I will settle you in your own land.” God keeps promises.

          Way back in Genesis 12, God told an old, childless man named Abram to leave his country and his people and go to a land that the Lord would show him. “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.” That was God’s promise.

          When God sent Jesus, through the lineage of Abraham and the nation of Israel, to make a new covenant in his blood that would offer salvation and new life to all people on earth, that promise to Abram was kept. God always keeps promises.

On September 4th, 2012, Alex Sheen’s father died. Most people would describe Alex’s father as an average man. But Alex describes him as a man of his word. At his father’s funeral, Alex passed out small cards to everyone in attendance. He called them Promise Cards. At the bottom of each card were the words “Because I said I would.” His father lived by those words. He could always be counted on to keep his promises. In honor of his father, Alex challenged those in attendance at the funeral to write a promise on their card and to make a steadfast commitment to keep that promise.

The people at Mr. Sheen’s funeral were so inspired by Alex’s Promise Cards that he began printing more and sending them for free to anyone who requested them. Today, Alex Sheen runs a nonprofit that does character education programming in schools, colleges and prisons. He teaches about integrity and honor and character and keeping your promises. His organization has sent more than 11 million Promise Cards to people in over 150 countries.

Alex also has a website, Because I Said I would.Com, where people who have received a Promise Card can post their stories of the promises they have made and kept. Here’s one of the stories that was shared from Elizabeth, a 26 year old nurse in the U.K.

Elizabeth works at an assisted living facility. She eats lunch every day with a particular resident who has dementia. Every day, at the end of lunch, the woman would become afraid that Elizabeth wouldn’t come back to visit her. Her dementia made her forget how faithful Elizabeth was to her. So Elizabeth took a Promise Card and wrote on it – “I promise I will come and have lunch with you tomorrow.” And at the bottom of the card were the words “Because I Said I Would.”

The next day, when Elizabeth showed up for lunch, she found her friend clutching the Promise Card. She looked and smiled and said, “You remembered…”(5)

God will never forget his promises. God will never forget his people. Across every page of the Bible, God writes those promises and signs them with “Because I Said I Would.” In Romans, Paul asks the rhetorical question, who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress or persecution? We could add, Will corona virus, self- isolation or quarantine? And the answer is No. Nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. That’s a promise, says God. And I will keep my promise, because I said I would.

May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol.XXXVI, No.1, p72.

2.    Ibid… p72.

3.    Ibid… p72-73.

4.    Ibid… p74.

5.    Ibid… p75-76.

3-22-2020 Knowing and Not-knowing

“Knowing and Not-knowing”

Rev. Jay Rowland

Gospel of John 9:1-33 (my adapted translation and emphases. Note: since the “man born blind” is not named, I prefer “blindman” for brevity and irony): 

As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So off he went and washed.

And came back able to see.

The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?”  

Some were saying, “It is he.”  Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” 

Blindman kept saying, “I am the man.” 

But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?”

He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.”

They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought the former blind man to the Pharisees.

(Now, it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes.)

Then the Pharisees also began to ask the blind man how he had received his sight.  Blindman said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” 

And they were divided.

So they asked Blindman, again, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.”  Blindman answered, “He is a prophet.” They did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight [so] they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?”  

His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and (we know) that he was born blind;  but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.”   

   … 

So for the second time they called blindman, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.”

Blindman answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner.  What I do know is: I was blind, now I see.”

They said to him, “What did he do to you?  How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I already told you! Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?”  

Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.”

Blindman answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes.  Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

Knowing and Not-knowing

As recent days have turned into weeks, I’ve struggled to process the scope and the gravity of the coronavirus crisis/pandemic. There’s a word for that: Disorientation.  

Uncertainty can be disorienting.  

With so much knowing and not-knowing going around, round and round, and with so much hanging in the balance, it’s enough to make my head spin. 

I was instantly taken with the opening verse of our passage today from John chapter nine. The opening “action” is Jesus (and his disciples) walking. 

I love to walk. When I walk alone, I often pray as I walk.  And so the walking drew me in. I wondered how the previous chapter ended, and how it might juxtapose with walking.  So I read chapter eight. Here’s a brief summary: Confrontation! A scathing altercation between Jesus and an unknown number of Pharisees and people erupts and dominates the chapter. Jesus endures insult and criticism and is accused of all kinds of wrongdoing. It culminates with Jesus being called a Samaritan and a demon. Jesus defends himself. Accusations get hurled back and forth between Jesus and the people. Tempers flare. It feels ugly even before people begin to look for rocks to stone Jesus to death. Chapter 8 ends with Jesus fleeing for his life.  Fade to black.

So as chapter nine opens with walking, I imagine them walking together, lost in thought, struggling to process what just happened. It had to be such a shock to everyone’s system--the disciples, and Jesus too.  Their minds must be spinning as they walk along, heavily on their heels rather than light on their toes. 

They suddenly realize they’ve stopped walking. They look up to see Jesus crouched down to the ground, quietly speaking with a man. The man has a desperate look about him.  His clothes are soiled and tattered--homeless no doubt. But there’s something else about the man--he seems to be ... blind.  

The disciples overhear him defensively telling Jesus, “sir, I know my place. This is my place. Ask anyone around here, they know me; I have permission to be here.” In that moment, the disciples are actually relieved that this man knows nothing about the Confrontation, the insults and the threats raining down on Jesus from multiple directions. Then they hear Jesus quietly mutter, to nobody in particular, “this man is not merely blind, he’s invisible; people have stopped seeing him as they step over him or rush past him.” 

Jesus has just experienced a severe and violent rejection. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he is facing not only intense criticism and opposition, but a clear threshold of threat and mortal danger.  Perhaps most disorienting, maybe also for the first time, he experiences the failure of words. Nothing Jesus said back there in chapter eight moved or pierced anyone’s conscience. His words fell upon deaf ears. 

As he rises from his crouched conversation with this blind man, Jesus is overcome with compassion and love. In the wake of growing indifference, defiance and violence, and the failure of words, perhaps Jesus sees an opportunity to show what God can do. 

Jesus picks up a handful of dirt and spits into it. He rubs his hands together (for at least twenty seconds!), until a sort of mud-paste forms, which he then (shockingly?) smears directly onto the man’s eyes. And then he tells the man to go wash his face in the pool.  What happens next, depending upon your perspective, is that either all hell you-know-what-breaks loose, or the kingdom of God is revealed.  

In the wake of the recent altercation and ambush of Jesus, there’s no middle ground. Just a cavernous difference of perception as the situation unfolds. 

Scholar Richard Swanson notes, “congenital blindness is identified as a condition that no one had ever cured.  The ancient world was full of healers. Some were charlatans. Some were mystics. Some were miraculous, like Elijah the prophet.  But only Jesus heals congenital blindness. No one else had done that. This episode in John wants us to notice that and to take it as evidence for the extraordinary status of Jesus.” This unprecedented creation of sight sourced by Jesus creates disruption and uncertainty.  To say it another way, after the blind man is able to see for the very first time in his life, everyone else’s vision is altered. 

What God can do disrupts assumptions and expectations.  

What God can do messes up our knowing and our not-knowing. 

What God can do can leave us dis-oriented and re-oriented.

And in the midst of all the knowing and not-knowing, questions arise.  One in particular: Where is Jesus? 

When the blind man is asked where Jesus is now, his reply is, “I don’t know” 

This text clearly locates Jesus. 

This text shows--reminds--us exactly where Jesus is: right smack in the midst of the confusion. 

This text reveals Jesus spanning the breach between what is known and what is unknown.  Whenever we find ourselves cast into disorientation and confusion and we cry out, “where are you, Jesus?” this text locates him right there in the dirt and muck and mess and confusion, ready to mix it up and work out a way through.

This text also locates us--it identifies us: we are the blind one. Right now we can’t see anything clearly about this pandemic crisis.  Right now, we have to walk (live) by faith rather than sight.  We have no choice. 

I see it embodied in that homeless man Jesus notices:  a man blind from birth, reduced to self-reliance, isolated, alone, begging, wearing soiled, shabby clothes, vulnerable, harried. 

Blind.

There he is. 

Meanwhile, following an intense quarrel, public rejection, ridicule, Jesus approaches.

He calls out from this text, “We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day, night is coming when no one can work.  As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

See Jesus in the world—the light of the world right now.  

See Jesus shining through faith communities right here in Rochester, and in every town and faith community across this state, this nation and this world.  

See Jesus shining through our congregation in the midst of this unprecedented social/physical distancing: through efforts that are connecting our children with adult members who aren’t their parents, and efforts to connect volunteers with our senior citizens, and with one another on a scale we’ve never tried (or needed?) before.  

Each of you hearing my voice right now, seeing this service right now are experiencing Jesus the light of the world.  Jesus’ Light is his disruption of this disruption, his sight in the midst of blindness, his mystical presence meeting and challenging our fear and uncertainty. 

As we brace for more of the unpredictable, Jesus is our anchor in this storm. He is our Light in the darkness. His presence is Love; Jesus, Son of Mary, Son of Humanity, Son of God. 

Let us keep our eyes fixed upon Him come what may, leaning into His promise, “As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of the World.”

Early in the Gospel of John, Jesus says to a confused Nicodemus in the dark of night, “…God so loved the world that God sent the Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.  (John 3:16-17)

In the first chapter, John announces, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

Together, we shall overcome. 

Knowing and not-knowing with Jesus, the light of the world.

3-8-2020 The Gospel in Miniature

Thomas J Parlette

“The Gospel in Miniature”

John 3:1-17

3/08/20

          According to the Christian History Institute, a man named George Bennard was struggling with personal problems that were causing him a great deal of trouble and anguish. In his suffering, his mind returned again and again to Christ’s anguish on the cross. This, he thought, was the heart of the gospel! The cross he pictured was not ornate, or pretty, or gold or silver. It was “a rough, splintery thing, stained with gore.”

          George Bennard was under the influence of one of our verses for today, John 3:16. “I saw the Christ of the Cross,” he said later, “ as if I were seeing John 3:16 leave the printed page, take form and act out the meaning of redemption.” We all know John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

          And so, in a room in Albion, Michigan, Bennard sat down and wrote a tune. But he struggled with the lyrics. In fact, he could only come up with one line… He struggled for weeks to set words to the melody he had written.

          Then Bennard, a Methodist evangelist, was scheduled to preach a series of messages in New York. He found himself focusing on the cross. The theme of the cross grew increasingly more urgent to him. He struggled once more with the words to his hymn. This time the words came. He later told a friend, “I sat down and immediately was able to rewrite the stanzas of the song without so much as one word failing to fall into place. I called in my wife, took out my guitar, and sang the completed song to her. She was thrilled!”

          On June 7th, 1913, George Bennard introduced the new hymn in a revival meeting he was conducting in Pokagon, Michigan. The words went like this: “On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame; and I love that old cross where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain. So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown…”

          The Old Rugged Cross went on to become one of the most popular hymns of the twentieth century. Bennard described his feelings as he struggled to put words to the printed page: “I saw the Christ of the Cross as if I were seeing John 3:16 leave the printed page, take form and act out the meaning of redemption.”(1)

          John 3:16 has had that effect on many people. That is why, even though our full passage is the story of Nicodemus’ night time visit to Jesus where he struggles with what it means to be born again, we’re going to focus on probably the most well-known verse in the Bible. Martin Luther once called John 3:16, “the Gospel in Miniature.” If all you had of the New Testament was this one verse, it would be enough to save your soul.

          We’ve heard this beautiful verse so often it’s tempting to take it for granted. But have you ever considered what it would mean if you just changed one or two key words John 3:16. For instance, let’s change one verb: For God so rejected the world. Makes a big difference doesn’t it. It nearly happened in the story of Noah, when God regretted creating the world. God rejected creation and sought to destroy it the waters of flood. But then God had a change a heart, and put a rainbow in the sky as symbol of the promise that humanity would never again be wiped out by the flood. But that’s how it could have read: God so rejected the world…

          Or we could change the first noun. It could read: For God so loved Israel. That’s what many Israelites at the time thought. They believed because they were God’s chosen people that meant that God loved them more than any other people on Earth. The prophets had to remind them that they were chosen to be a light to the other nations – not that God loved them more. Some may think the verse reads: For God so loved America. But it doesn’t. Or it could read: For God so loved nice people. Nope, it reads For God so loved the World. Everybody – the rich, the poor, the beautiful, the not so beautiful, the saints and the sinners alike.

          Or, we might tinker with the second half of the verse: For God so loved the world that He gave it a stern warning. God did give many stern warnings in the Old Testament, but people still went on their way. Nothing made much of a difference until, “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son…”

          How about if we just changed the last few words of the last half of the sentence? For God so loved the world that he gave his only son to tell us how to be happy and comfortable in life. That one sounds great. A lot more people would probably become Christians if we made that our motto. But that’s not how it reads either.

          Listen again to this verse and consider what a world of difference it would make if we changed just one world -
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

          Last week we kicked off the season of Lent by focusing on the goodness of God. If you understand God’s goodness, you will trust in God.

          This week we’re focusing on another aspect of God’s character – God’s love. There’s nothing in this universe that can compare with God’s love.

          Our verses for today begin by telling us the story of Nicodemus and his question about being born again. Which leads into Jesus announcing that God loves us, all of us, even before we loved him. It would be nice if it said that we first loved God. But, truth be told, human beings are not all that good at this love business. We are well meaning, but if there is one lesson from human history, it is that we can hate just as easily as we can love.

          It always amazes me, and depresses me to discover how often people have hated in the name of God. Not just in the Christian faith, but in any religion, hating in the name of God has been justified. But a close reading of scripture shows that just can’t be done. In 1st John we read “Whoever does not love, does not know God, because God is love… This is love; not that we loved God, but that God loved us.”

          God loved us before we were even capable of loving him in return. Being the first one to express love is always risky. As Jerry Seinfeld once said to his good friend George Costanza after George told his girlfriend he loved her – “That’s a pretty big matza ball hanging out there, my friend.” It’s risky to put your heart out there and hope the other person feels the same way. But God didn’t wait for us to love him. God loved us knowing full well that we would never be able to return his love. God’s love is truly unconditional.

          There was once a very compassionate woman named Rene Denfield who adopted a little girl from the foster care system in her city. Three years later, a case worker called and said she had another child Rene might be interested in. He was a toddler, but he’d already suffered a great deal in his short life. The little boy named Tony had bounced from one foster home to another. His rage and his acting out were too much for other families to handle. But the caseworker believed that Rene, who had grown up in an abusive home herself, had the love and toughness to get through to this angry, scared little boy.

          As Rene wrote in an article for the New York Times, “When he raged, I told him I loved him. I told him over and over.” Rene reports that it took years before Tony’s rages subsided. But one day, he was in the middle of playing on the floor when he looked up at Rene and said, “You brought me home. I love you too.”(2)

          Notice that John 3:16 doesn’t say “For God loved good people who loved God back.” No. For God so loved the world… No limitations, no exclusions, no maybe, no fine print. God loved us first.

          Here’s another thing we can take from this well-known verse – how much God loves us. God so loved us that He gave us his most precious gift – His son. It’s easy, relatively, to say I love you, but it’s a much different thing to love into action.

          John Robert Fox was an African-American artillery officer who served in the U.S. Army in World War II. In December 1944, he and his unit were assigned to patrol an area of Tuscany in Italy that had been overrun by Nazi soldiers. Fox and a handful of men joined a small troop of Italian soldiers in a small Tuscan village. All the residents of the village had already fled and Fox and his men hid in an abandoned house and reported back to base camp on the movement of Nazi troops through town.

          Imagine the surprise at base camp when Fox radioed in a set of bombing coordinates ordered them to begin shelling a certain neighborhood in the village. Here’s why they were surprised: the coordinates were very close to where Fox and his men were hiding. The gunner who received the order deliberately changed the coordinates slightly to protect the American soldiers.

          A second time, Fox radioed in and ordered the gunner to bomb the coordinates he had sent. The gunner argued with Fox – it was too close to his hiding place, he was putting himself and his men in danger.

          Fox radioed back a third time. He made it clear that he knew what he was doing. The house they were hiding in was surrounded by Nazis. Fox’s last words were, “Fire it. There’s more of them than there are of us.” Fox and his men were laying down their lives to defeat Nazi troops. The gunner ordered the bombing strike. More than 100 Nazi soldiers were killed, along with Fox and his men. Their sacrifice gave the American troops time to re-group and launch a successful counterattack, The Allied troops regained the village and drove out the Nazi forces. In 1997, John Robert Fox was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for his “gallant and courageous actions, at the supreme sacrifice of his own life.”(3)

          It’s easy to say,”I love you,”- it’s another thing to put love into action.

          Alfred Vanderbilt was the great grandson of billionaire businessman Cornelius Vanderbilt. There was nothing praiseworthy about how Alfred lived his life. He used his massive inheritance to invest in real estate and horses, and to throw lavish parties. But in 1915, Alfred Vanderbilt did something we remember him by.

          In 1915, he set sail on the British ocean liner the Luisitania heading toward London. At the time, Europe was embroiled in World War 1, but nobody thought that enemy troops would attack a civilian ship. Sadly, they were wrong. German U-boats attacked the Luisitania as it sailed off the coast of Ireland.

          As a First Class passenger, Vanderbilt was guaranteed a lifejacket and a seat on one of the first lifeboats leaving the ship. However, Alfred Vanderbilt refused his rights. He gave away his life jacket and his seat on the lifeboat. As the ship slowly sank, Vanderbilt focused on getting as many children into the lifeboats as possible. He died saving others. A New York Times journalist described his last moments as “gallantry which no words of mine can describe.”(4)

          How do you describe a love that is unearned, undeserved, given freely and generously and sacrificially for the sake of everyone, whether they can ever return that love or not? That’s God’s love. God had a million reasons to condemn the world. But God didn’t do that. God saved the world by giving the greatest gift that could be given. And God made us a promise that whoever believes in God’s Son, Jesus Christ, will not perish but have eternal life.

          And for that, May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXVI, No. 1, p56.

2.    Ibid… p58.

3.    Ibid… p59.

4.    Ibid… p59-60.

3-1-2020 The Goodness of God

Thomas J Parlette

“The Goodness of God”

Genesis 2: 15-17; 3: 1-7

3/1/2020, 1st Lent

          Welcome to the first Sunday of Lent, the forty- six days from Ash Wednesday to silent Saturday, the day before Easter, the day before our celebration of the Resurrection. All around the world, people celebrate Lent as a time of reflection and preparation. We reflect on the sacrificial death of Jesus on the cross, and we prepare ourselves to celebrate the awesome, life-changing joy of resurrection.

          Traditionally, we as Christians celebrate Lent by examining our hearts, repenting of our sins, and giving up something important to us as a way of identifying with Jesus’ sacrifice on our behalf.

          Theology professor Colin MacIver has some ideas about the things that we might give up for Lent. He begins with hot showers or mattresses or beds, because we’ve become so dependent on our own comfort. Any takers? Probably not. Next he suggests the audio equipment in your car, because we need more silent time to listen to God and examine our hearts. Then he suggests maybe we give up Netflix, because we often use entertainment to numb our minds or waste time that could be used for better purposes. Next up, how about giving up looking at your reflection in the mirror for Lent, because it encourages vanity and self-centeredness. Finally, he suggests giving up control of your TV remote, because we hate giving up control of anything.(1) It’s easy to see why Colin MacIver is in the academic world – none of that would fly in your typical congregation!

          Last year, Twitter employees sorted through more than 44,000 tweets that referenced the word “Lent” and the words “giving up” to come up with the most popular things that people were sacrificing for Lent. Their top five, in order, were – Social networking (Facebook, Instagram and the rest): Alcohol: Twitter: Chocolate and strangely enough, the fifth most popular thing to give up for Lent was, Lent itself.(2)

          Obviously, not everyone likes the idea of self-examination and sacrifice.

          Lent is an uncomfortable season in the church year. It’s supposed to be that way. For forty-six days, we are reminded of how much our sin separates us from God and how far God would go to heal that separation. So today’s passage on how sin entered the world is an appropriate way to start the season.

          In Genesis 1 and 2, God is very busy. God creates the universe as a place of light and life, order and peace, fruitfulness and beauty. Then, on a remote planet in that universe, God placed humankind in a beautiful garden-world will all kinds of good food to eat. This was to be humanity’s home, a place of safety and provision. Humankind would not have to wander like a hungry nomad searching for food or shelter. Humans would not be refugees.

          After reading the Creation account in Genesis, it’s striking how the sad situation of refugees is the polar opposite of what God intended for human beings. God did not intend for us to be homeless, helpless, unprotected, scavenging for resources to stay alive. God intended for us to live in the Divine presence enjoying God’s resources.

          Then we read verses 16-17: And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will die.”

          I wonder, what if you had never heard of God before, had no concept of God, and someone read you Genesis 1 through Genesis 2:15 – how might you describe the character of God? Based on those verses, probably as a generous, creative being anxious to share what had been created.

          An interviewer once asked theologian R.C. Sproul what the greatest spiritual need in the world is. Sproul answered, “The greatest need in people’s lives today is to discover the true identity of God… If believers really understood the character and the personality and the nature of God, it would revolutionize their lives.”(3) This passage is often described as the story of how sin came into the world. But it can also be seen as a story that shows us the true character and nature of God.

          First of all, the Creation story reveals to us the goodness of God. You see God’s goodness in creating this beautiful, orderly universe teeming with light and life. You see God’s goodness in creating and blessing human beings with abundant food, fulfilling work and a personal relationship with God.

          There’s an old story about a young soldier who was overseas. He was writing his girlfriend. He wanted to send her a telegram because he thought it would be more romantic. So he gave the telegraph operator a message to send. The message was “I love you. I love you. I love you. John.”

          The telegraph operator said, “Son, for the same amount of money you can send one more word.”

          So he amended the message to “I love you. I love you. I love you. Cordially, John.”(4)

          In creation God is saying “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

          Many of us profess our love for God in return, “I love you too. Cordially, John.” In light of all our blessings we should be overwhelmed with the goodness of God.

          Dietrich Bonhoeffer is a well- known German pastor and theologian who stood up to the Nazi’s in the days of World War II. In 1943, he was arrested by the Gestapo and imprisoned, then moved to a concentration camp, where he was executed. Not long before his death, Bonhoeffer wrote a letter to a friend in which he said, “You must never doubt that I’m traveling with gratitude and cheerfulness along the road where I’m being led. My past life is brim-full of God’s goodness, and my sins are covered by the forgiving love of Christ crucified.” (5) Here was a man facing death, but he was filled with gratitude and a consciousness of God’s presence. He trusted in the goodness of God.

          Adam and Eve’s sin in the Garden began when they doubted God’s character. With just one question and one challenge, the serpent was able to plant doubts in Eve’s mind about the goodness of God – “Did God really say, “You must not eat from any tree in the garden?”

          “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, you must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.”

          And Satan saw his opening – “You will not die. For God knows that when you eat fruit from that tree your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

          The serpent planted the belief in this first couple’s mind of an unjust God. God owes you happiness, he is suggesting. God owes you power. God owes you an explanation for your every “Why?”

          Adam and Eve momentarily lost sight of all the beauty and bounty that God had bestowed upon them. Instead they became fixated on the one thing God had denied them. And they began to justify both their sin and their self-centeredness. They lost sight of the goodness and holiness of God. And we do the same thing when we focus on the things we are denied rather than the ways in which God has blessed us.

          Understanding the goodness of God makes the difference between believing in God and trusting in God. I suspect all of us believe in God. The problem is that many of us don’t really trust God. There’s a big difference. Trust means giving up control of your life to God. Trust means obeying God’s limits, even when you don’t understand them. Trust means knowing that God doesn’t owe you an explanation. Trusting God means continuing to praise what you do know about God instead of questioning what you don’t know about God.

          On Nov. 21st, 1990, Bill Irwin became the first blind person to hike the entire Appalachian trail, a rugged wilderness trail that stretches more than 2100 miles from Springer Mountain. Georgia to Mt Katahdin, Maine. Irwin didn’t use maps or compasses or any technology at all to find his way. He counted on his aptly named guide dog, Orient, to take him over hills, into ravines and across rivers.

          Bill Irwin had been an angry, driven man with a drinking problem, four failed marriages, and battling depression when he began losing his eyesight. A few years later, Bill became a Christian while attending an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with his son. His depression lifted and he stopped drinking as he experienced the hope and joy of salvation. In gratitude, he prayed, “Lord, I’m so grateful for all You’ve given me and all You’ve done for me. If there’s anything I can do as a way of saying thank you, I want You to know I’ll do it, whatever it is.”

          Not long after that, Bill felt God nudging him to hike the Appalachian Trail. Now Bill was not an outdoorsman. He didn’t care for hiking or camping. He was out of shape and not very athletic. And he was now completely blind. Why in the world would he take on something so risky? To anyone who asked him for an explanation, Bill would simply say that God told him to. Bill would later write, “The first clear-eyed thing that I had ever done was as a blind man when I asked God to take charge of my life.”

          For Bill Irwin, who died March 1st, 2014 at age 73, his hike was an act of salvation. And whenever he got the opportunity, he would quote the first verse he learned as a new Christian, from 2nd Corinthians 5:7 – “For we walk by faith, not by sight.”(6)

          If you really understand the goodness of God, you can trust God with your life. How would that change your priorities and your attitudes? How could God use you if you handed over control of your life? This whole Lenten season is set aside for reflecting on the sacrifice of Jesus on our behalf. If you were being honest with yourself, are you stuck in the believing stage, or have you moved on to trusting God? Can we really look at the symbols of the Lenten season – the whip, the nails, the crown of thorns and the cross – and still question the goodness of God?

          The creation story reveals to us the goodness of God. Adan and Eve’s sin the garden began when they doubted God’s character and goodness. Understanding the goodness of God makes all the difference between believing in God and trusting in God.

          So, this Lenten season may we learn to appreciate God’s goodness and move from belief to trust.

          May God be praised. Amen. 

1.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXVI, No. 1, p51.

2.    Ibid…p51.

3.    Ibid…p52.

4.    Ibid…p53.

5.    Ibid…p53.

6.    Ibid…p54.

2-23-2020 A Different Kind of Fast

Thomas J Parlette

“A Different Kind of Fast”

Isaiah 58: 1-12

2/23/20

          Last week, we spent some time with the prophet Micah – one of the minor prophets who had some major things to say. He left us with a wonderful religious mission statement. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.”

          This week, we turn to one of his contemporaries, the major prophet Isaiah. In this passage for today, Isaiah puts flesh on the bones of the concept of justice; we see him tackling just labor and employment practices, sharing bread, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, showing oneself to your own kin.

          In both passages for today, from Matthew, where we are described as salt and light, to Isaiah, we are shown the HOW to last week’s WHAT. Last week we heard what God requires. Today we hear how God wants it done.

          The religious and political leaders of Judah had been living in exile in Babylon, taken as captives by the conquering army of Nebuchadnezzar. Jerusalem was a defeated city. Its temple destroyed; it’s walls crumbled. The exiles had lost all hope of returning.

          Perhaps many of them remembered that Isaiah also declared God’s promise of deliverance, a new exodus. “Comfort, O Comfort my people, says your God, speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her that she has served her term, that he penalty is paid…”

          One day, they would return home. Just like Moses led the people from Egyptian bondage, so would God lead them out of Babylonian captivity. Soon, God’s promise would come true. “Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together…”

          Then King Cyrus freed the captives and gave them permission to return to Jerusalem and rebuild their temple. Some went back, but not everyone. Some of the exiles had carved out a successful living and chose to stay in Babylon. But about 50 years later, these more “well-to-do” exiles decided to go back to their homeland.

          But when they arrived, they were taken aback by what they found. Rubble everywhere. Nobody had even tried to rebuild the temple – let alone the city wall. Worse yet, no one seemed to care! How could these wretched people live in this mess for fifty years, and not do anything at all to improve things? If anything, the city was in worse shape now than it was when the exiles were carted off to Babylon.

          Now remember, the returning people had been the “crème de la crème” of society. They, or their parents and grandparents, had been the cream of the crop, the top of the heap. They were wealthy nobles and landowners in Judah before the exile. Since they were forbidden to own property in Babylon, many became bankers and business people on one the world’s most powerful empires.

          It was this group of “haves” who expected to be welcomed home by a rejoicing city of “have-nots” as they marched triumphantly through the streets of Jerusalem. But that didn’t happen. Instead, the exiles returned to rubble, rubble toil and trouble.

          They observed new people in leadership positions, new people occupying their vineyards and farms, new people living in their old homes.

          So they tried everything from appealing to people’s sense of guilt to new organizational structures and planning models to put themselves back on top again. But nothing seemed to change. Nothing aroused the “wretched ones” to change the present state of affairs.

          Finally, they became even more rigid and demanding in their spiritual and religious practices. Surely this would show God how serious and worthy they were. Surely this would convince the lazy among them to begin the rebuilding task. They put on sack cloth and smeared their bodies with ashes. They practiced fasting with strict intensity.

          But this didn’t seem to have any effect, as Isaiah notes the people asking, “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Why are we doing this, they wonder. Nothing is happening – nothing changes.

          In the ancient near east, fasting was meant to influence a deity to act on behalf of the one fasting. Usually, a fast occurred to ease a drought, bring help with a military invasion, to exorcise a demon, or to lessen the severity of a political or economic crisis. The act of lying in sack cloth and ashes was a sign of mourning, lament, and penitence.

          Now the people were wondering why are we dirty, hungry and badly dressed if God isn’t going to do anything!

          This is where Isaiah introduces the idea of a different kind of fast. Isaiah says, “Look, God knows you’re only doing all these pious acts for your own self-interest. You don’t really mean it. You act religious, but you mistreat your workers, you ignore people in need and you do nothing but quarrel and fight. You call this a fast. You call this a day acceptable to the Lord?”

          “Do you want to know what kind of fast I want? This is the fast I want:

          To loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke.

          I want a fast where you share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and do not hide yourself from your kin – a way of saying stop ignoring the people you see who are obviously in need.

          Participate in that kind of fast and you light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. The you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

          If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like noonday.

          Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.”

          The true fast will be a life filled with acts of concrete justice and mercy that are practical – that touch upon basic human needs such as clothes, food, wages, and shelter. Isaiah is clear about this and instructs listeners to be as generous as possible, to share not sparingly but abundantly; “Pour yourself,” Isaiah writes, or more directly, “pour out yourself.” If you fast this way – I will be in your presence.

          The connection between religious ritual, in this case fasting, and acts of justice and mercy calls to mind the quote from John Chrysostom: “If you cannot find Christ in the beggar at the Church door, you will not find him in the chalice.”(1)

          Jesus may have had Isaiah words about a different kind of fast in the back of his mind when he described his disciples as Salt and Light. Both salt and light were commodities in Jesus day. They were expensive and sometimes a luxury. The purpose of any commodity is to be used. Nobody lights a lamp with costly oil, just to cover it up – No, you use it to give light to whole house. Salt is worthless unless you use it – then it has value. Jesus is saying that our lives operate in a similar way. We are a valuable resource to be poured out and never hidden – just as Isaiah says.

          These two texts, taken together, seem to indicate that the only thing keeping us from attending to the basic needs of the world in practical ways is our won barriers, our failure to spend ourselves and our resources freely.

          As Karoline Lewis points out, “It is not enough to know ABOUT God. As disciples, we have to be the ACTIVITY of God in the world. We are called to live out our identity as salt and light.” Or, as Bryant McGill once said, “We are here to spend ourselves.”(2)

          I realize as I say these words that many of you have spent yourselves for many years in many different ways. I realize that none of us have unlimited energy and resources – spiritually and emotionally – to just keep pouring ourselves out in the interest of justice and righteousness. Sometimes we are just tired. Sometimes our lights don’t burn so bright because we’re running low on oil. Sometimes we osr oue saltiness. There are moments when we are in need of basic care, when we are not up to showing up and certainly could not imagine leading the kind of revolution that Isaiah and Matthew call us too.

          When we are living in those times, we are called to lean on each other, and lean also on our God – who is never low on resources.

          I like the story Kat Banakis tells in a recent Christian Century. She writes, “When Methodist minister Lanecia Rouse Tinsley lost a child, she found solace in creating abstract visual art. She was working through a particularly challenging commission, and her local art supplier encouraged her, “Just remember that the canvas is big enough to hold all of your truth and all of your energy.” She has since wondered why she never heard that message in church about God – that God is big enough to hold all of our truth and all of our unknowing and grief and anger – all the times when salt has lost it’s saltiness.(3) All the times when we are a little low on oil for our lamps.

          Today, Isaiah calls us to a different kind of fast. The kind of fast where we spend ourselves, to set people free, to feed the hungry and tend to those in need. These are things that give glory to God.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Kat Banakis, Christian Century, January 29th 2020, p19.

2.    Ibid…

3. Ibid…

3.    Ibid…

2-26-2020 Ash Wednesday "Now Is the Time"

Rev. Jay Rowland

2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10 (NRSV)

So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.  As we work together a [with him], we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. For it is written,

“At an acceptable time I have listened to you,

and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”

See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

Now Is the Time

I chose this scripture from the four available today because of the urgency of Paul’s appeal to be reconciled to God.  I’m trying to understand what it means to be reconciled to God and why that would be something that’s so urgent. 

Reflecting on this passage again this year something new hit me.  It occurs to me for the first time that Paul offers a description of what it can look like to be reconciled to God. This description appears in a string of rapid-fire, (mostly) one-word capsules of his experiences as a follower of Jesus: endurance, affliction, hardship, calamity; beatings, imprisonment, riots, labors, sleepless nights; … truthful speech and the power of God; punishments; bad reputation and good reputation; alienation, sorrows (yet always rejoicing); poverty (yet making many rich); losing everything (yet possessing everything). 

This description suggests a level of difficulty exceeded only by a sense urgency.  And so I find this to be powerfully compelling to us. If being reconciled to God puts us through anything like what Paul describes, being reconciled to God may require more of us than we are willing to give.

Generally speaking—at least to me, being reconciled to God means don’t let anything come between us and God.  And if and when anything does, address it quickly whatever it is--do something about it. Don’t just let it go.  And Lent provides us with an invitation to work more intentionally on that process: identify whatever might be coming between ourselves and God; reflect on it; talk with others about it; pray about it. When we spend some time and energy considering what we let come between us and God we find it helps us live closer to God, more aware of God’s presence in our lives and in the life of the world. 

The season of Lent and the process I described often brings to mind a particular word that I’d like to explore. That word is “repent”.  For most people, the term repent means something like “stop sinning.”  Here I must pause to acknowledge Catholic theologian Father Richard Rohr. His books and podcasts are so illuminating to me and I’d like to share some of what I’ve learned from him.  Rohr notes that the word translated as “repent” is among the first words spoken by Jesus at the start of his ministry:  “Repent for the kingdom of God is here” (Matthew 4:17, Mark 1:15 The original Greek word which gets translated into English in our Bibles as “repent” is “metanoia”.  It does not mean “repent”.  Metanoia comes from two root words: “meta” which means “go beyond” and “noeo” which means understand, perceive, consider, think; and so the literal meaning is “go beyond your understanding/perception/thinking” which is much different than what the word “repent” has come to mean.  It’s a better translation, more descriptive, but it’s harder to do.

And so the word Jesus spoke (metanoia) indicates that being reconciled to God has something to do with going beyond our typical state of mind (Rohr’s terminology) in order to better understand the kingdom of God.  Think about the typical state of your mind.  I can say that the typical state of my mind is: often cluttered, anxious, irritated--as in wanting some situation or person to be different than it is.  The human mind loves to obsesses about situations and people who “need” to be fixed or changed; the human mind excels at judging and rushing to conclusions.  

Jesus bursts onto the scene urging people’s minds to move into the kingdom of God.  Now consider the term “kingdom”.  In Jesus’ time, most people lived in a kingdom or empire, under the authority of a king or ruler.  Our kingdoms today have evolved into the kingdom of say, the garage, or the kingdom of the kitchen, or the back yard, the video game; the kingdom of NASCAR, or pro football, etc.  We all still inhabit kingdoms.  For many people, the USA has always been the primary “kingdom”.    

Jesus says, metanoia to that!  The kingdoms of this world do not serve their people. It’s always been the other way around.  People have always been used and mis-used by their kingdoms.  Perhaps the kingdom of God may include, and may even bless all the smaller kingdoms we serve, the kingdom of God in itself is nothing like those. 

To go beyond our typical mind requires us to consider how much of ourselves we put into our own comparatively smaller but preferred kingdoms. It’s a first step toward discovering more about our need to live in the kingdom of God. 

Jesus makes it very clear from the start that the kingdom of God at odds with the world around us. And I can see how the world around us is really good at provoking us—moving our minds here, there and everywhere, from irritation, to outrage, to frustration, to needing to fix, or change or get rid of this that or the other.  And all those thoughts have a cumulative, crushing, limiting impact upon one’s interior world—which Jesus wants us to devote more and more to the kingdom of God. 

Taking all that into consideration, Jesus comes preaching interior change as the way to bring about all those changes which can improve human life in the world.  We spend so much time being upset about all the things that need to but are not changing—things in the world, in our nation, in our jobs, in our relationships, our families, our schools, our churches, on and on it goes.  Meanwhile, the kingdom of God is always about the good of the whole rather than the partial good.  That’s why it’s holy.  It’s about what’s best for everyone rather than some or even many.

Jesus comes to us urging us to engage in metanoia – to push our minds beyond ordinary thinking, or understanding or perception.  Jesus brings to us a philosophy of change.  We human beings are not naturally attracted to change.  We prefer the predictable instead.  But Jesus knows that “to love is to change.  And to love perfectly is to change many times” (John Henry Newman).  That’s very different than how we actually live.  Most of us live life on cruise control.  We continue to do what we continue to do, the way we always do.  Any alteration is a shock to our system; any diversion is uncomfortable, unsettling, uncertain.  But that’s REAL LIFE in the REAL WORLD isn’t it?:  changes happen to us that can be uncomfortable, unsettling, and create uncertainty. 

But at the same time, if we don’t change as human beings, we don’t grow as human beings.  And if we don’t grow as human beings, we don’t change.  And if that happens, Rohr presents the scenario of a person being the same at age 30, 40, 50, 60 (etc) as they were at, say, age 16.  We all know or have met people like that.  People who at age 40 (etc) are challenging authority, picking fights, trying to impress, trying to force their way, trying to win like we do in adolescence.  Which is somewhat descriptive of our culture and our politics right now: 40-, 50-, 60-, 70-year olds challenging authority, picking fights, trying to impress, trying to force their way, trying to win like a bunch of hormonally raging adolescents do.  Look around. We live in a time in which what’s true or what is fact is less important than what I say is true or factual in order to get what I want.  Whatever is good for all of us is not important because it’s all about whatever benefits the faction I care about most and am most involved in. 

Jesus presents to us a spiritual philosophy, a moral theology that demands that we change our typical patterns of thinking.  Kingdom of God thinking means thinking about the common good--not the Republican good, or the Democratic good, or the White, Black, Hispanic good; these can all be ideals worthy of aspiration and energy.  But Jesus is challenging us to see that our view is always partial, limited.  We must expand our personal borders, we must do more growing, changing, growing up and getting out of ourselves and our limited kingdoms we’re stuck living in. 

If we don’t start practicing metanoia it’s hard to see any hope for the world we inhabit right now. Or is it the world that inhabits us, which is so divided, so cynical, so … off; a nation where facts can be fudged or created and debated; a nation where people seem to be literally living in the kingdom of the Democrats or the kingdom of the Republicans.

There’s got to be a better way.  And there is a better way. 

Jesus challenges us to change, change our mindset, change our ways, oppose the cynical ways and current trends of truth and love.  The Kingdom of God includes pieces of these other kingdoms, but goes far beyond them toward what’s good for everyone.  The Kingdom of God is about making life better for people who are oppressed, struggling, suffering, ignored, rejected.   Look at the gospels: Jesus is constantly doing, saying, and living for the oppressed, the suffering, the struggling, the ignored, the rejected.  And we are supposed to be His people, doing like he did, fighting for what he did, loving the way he did …

Of course we all fall short.  Of course we cannot succeed, fully or partially.  Of course there will always be more need than any of us and all of us can handle at any given moment.  But isn’t asking or expecting us to succeed.  He’s asking us to keep moving, to push past and challenge typical understanding, thinking, perception, in order to welcome and accompany the kingdom of God that arrived with Jesus and is expanding, though contested and opposed by the kingdoms of this world.

That’s how we become reconciled to God:  metanoia

That’s what will bring the kind of change we all yearn for deep-down: metanoia

The urgency Paul declares is greater perhaps than ever before:

Now is the time.

2-16-2020 Cross Talk

Cross Talk

Rev. Jay Rowland

Please note: Most of the terminology and ethos in the first six paragraphs of this sermon is reflective of the published work of Richard B. Hays in his commentary, First Corinthians-Interpretation (John Knox Press, 1997).

1 Corinthians 3:1-9  (Good News Bible)

My friends, I could not talk to you as I talk to people who have the Spirit; I had to talk to you as though you belonged to this world, as children in the Christian faith. 2 I had to feed you milk, not solid food, because you were not ready for it. And even now you are not ready for it, 3 because you still live as the people of this world live. When there is jealousy among you and you quarrel with one another, doesn't this prove that you belong to this world, living by its standards? 4 When one of you says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos”—aren't you acting like worldly people?

5 After all, who is Apollos? And who is Paul? We are simply God's servants, by whom you were led to believe. Each one of us does the work which the Lord gave him to do: 6I planted the seed, Apollos watered the plant, but it was God who made the plant grow. 7 The one who plants and the one who waters really do not matter. It is God who matters, because he makes the plant grow. 8 There is no difference between the one who plants and the one who waters; God will reward each one according to the work each has done. 9 For we are partners working together for God, and you are God's field.

Paul is addressing a divided Christian community in Corinth. It seems that some believers were valuing their own individual Christian faith and discipleship above others in the community.  Religious elitism still crops up in Christian communities today as it has in every generation from the start. It happens whenever particular aspects of Christian faith receive more validation than other equally valid aspects, such as, well, there’s the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit for starters.  Otherwise, such aspects as doctrinal orthodoxy, morality, scholarly training and expertise, and who knows, these days some may even consider their own political affiliation worthy of veneration.   

Paul’s letter provides our earliest example of a careful pastoral response to this basic and recurring problem and impulse of human nature (elitism).  Paul’s careful response is both simple and complex: the cross. For Paul the cross adheres the Christian community to “the mind of Christ” (see Philippians 2:1-13).  God’s strange wisdom revealed through the cross exposes the dark side of human nature, particularly its opposition to God’s movement.  

Those who move with the foolish wisdom of God tend to provoke the ire of the state, church, society and culture.  The experiences of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, MLK jr, and Oscar Romero (to name only three) reveal as much.  In other words, whenever the Spirit of God grabs hold of you with the mind of Christ, chances are the powers that be will be grabbing at you too.

And so it is that the arrogance and false wisdom of this world’s authorities oppose God’s plan for the spreading of the gospel throughout the world. Paul utilizes the metaphor of the church as God’s field to illuminate the identity of the (at first, Corinthian but now every) church and its leaders in two distinct ways. First, that the church is an interdependent community of people in a particular place and time, rather than an institution with a hierarchy and a formal structure. Second, Paul refers to the church as a cohesive being, built by the apostles and tested by fire rather than a collective of individual believers doing their own thing.  

Spiritual individualism is all the rage these days.  There’s no shortage of practitioners and influencers hoping to hook us with their superlative insights into personal well-being and contentment. Meanwhile, our current political climate is content to move us toward an (unapologetically) elitist society.  A greater percentage of wealth continues to be concentrated among fewer and fewer people. Skyrocketing costs for health care and college are dismissed as either natural selection or the free-market doing its thing. Our once responsible Congress now appears more responsive to and concerned about protecting the interests of the wealthy at the expense of the middle class and the poor. All of this coming at a time of increasing spiritual individualism and a decline of moral integrity. 

Paul seeks to provoke a reversal of the dominant perspective by appealing to God’s wisdom in the folly of the cross. It’s Paul’s intent to shake the Corinthians (and us) out of any infatuation with religious elitism. The (foolish) wisdom of the cross is God’s critique of every form of elitism--political, cultural, societal, governmental, religious. In Corinth, as today, beneath the jealousy, quarreling and division lurk serious questions about the practice and understanding of faith.  People in every generation want to know just what is idolatry in their particular context? And, similarly, what does resurrection mean in a world where the representative powers-that-be appear hell-bent on destruction, or at best, ignoring all warnings and opportunities. Such important basic questions --or should I say answers--still provoke division in the church.  To every generation Paul offers the cross as the paradigm by which to live while seeking answers to the vital questions of our time and our faith.  

If none of this makes any sense, perhaps a story can better present what’s at stake: 

Once upon a time there was a field of land, enormous and fertile, but undeveloped.  This field was owned by a kind, generous person. When the owner realized that many people and families in the community didn’t have enough food to eat, the owner did not hesitate.

The owner decided to turn that enormous, vacant field into farmland and quickly called two trusted community leaders to do the important work required to transform a field of land into crops and food.  One was given responsibility for the planting. The other was responsible for watering and nurturing the crop.  Both would harvest the field come harvest season then give the food to every family and person in need.

Good news travels fast and the news of this endeavor was quickly known in the entire community. And as it did, people erupted with joy.  Everyone who needed food would finally have enough to eat thanks to the care of these three people.  It became a common sight to see folks venturing out to the field to cheer the work being done: the clearing, the plowing, the planting; the watering and the growing.

Joy and anticipation built as the planted seeds sprouted and the field became dotted with small green shoots forming neat rows throughout the vast field.  Then the community settled in for the lengthening days of the growing season. As the crops grew, people exchanged pleasant conversation. The future of their community was bright.  Day by day people looked forward to the harvest. All was well.

Nobody remembers exactly when it happened. It started out innocently enough of course.  One day, like most days before, conversations were plentiful in all the common areas of the town offering repeated praises and appreciation for this great endeavor.  One of the random conversations of normative appreciation mentioned the work of the one who cleared and plowed the field and planted the seed.  Heads nodded in agreement even as they were preparing to offer their usual appreciation for the other servant and for the owner too.

But on this particular day one might have noticed some unusually loud clearing-of-throats and murmuring spreading among the crowd of nodding heads.  Suddenly a voice could be heard above the others, taking offense that the other servant was overlooked and unappreciated.  This was quickly and politely countered by numerous voices saying, “no no no … not at all, we are just as grateful for the watering and nurturing.”  But apparently it was too late … the murmuring crowd quickly drowned out their reply.  Insult had been declared and it was spreading like wildfire.  

This was all unnecessary and immature of course, and yet it persisted. Soon people began declaring their allegiance, choosing sides and criticizing any on the so-called “other side”. They didn’t hesitate to pressure people to choose sides, particularly those who refused and tried to de-escalate the tension and conflict. 

Soon both servants were being criticized for not publicly declaring their appreciation for the work of the other servant.  When the owner of the field was openly criticized and blamed for causing this mess, it was clear this spat had reached the point of no return.  Many people, perhaps even a majority, were caught in the middle.  More and more people suffered from anxiety and stress taking a heavy toll on their health.  Many felt they had no choice but to leave this community they loved so much. 

“When there is jealousy among you and you quarrel with one another, you demonstrate that you belong to this world, living by its standards, rather than people who have received the Spirit of God.”  Paul appeals to every generation: the cross of Jesus Christ calls for, commands, requires unity among those who have received the Spirit of God.  At this critical time in our nation’s history and also in the life and history of the church his appeal seems perhaps more relevant than ever.

“For we are partners working together for God, and you are God's field.”

02-02-2020 Nothing Minor about Micah

Thomas J Parlette

“Nothing Minor about Micah”

Micah 6: 1-8

2/2/20

          I admit this morning’s meditation is a little different from what I normally do. This is really less of a sermon and more of a study of a little known figure in the Bible – the prophet Micah.

          We don’t hear that often from Micah in our lectionary. I think something from his short book comes up just a couple of times a year, at best. Micah is the sixth of what is called the Minor Prophets. We call the prophets writing in the last 10 books of the Old Testament minor, not because they are less important, but simply because their books are shorter. The Major Prophets, like Isaiah and Jeremiah, they have a lot more to say, but the Minor Prophets, like Micah, they are much more succinct. But when you read what Micah has to say, Micah is anything but minor.

          The name Micah in Hebrew means “who is like unto God.” Our modern names Michael and Michelle derive from it. Oddly enough, Micah used his own name as the theme of his book. His brief seven chapter, six page prophecy is all about what God is like, and how we can be more “like unto God.”

          Micah lived in the 8th century before Christ. Ministering during the reign of 3 different Kings, named there in verse 1, and he was careful to write down his sermons and prophecies. It helps to understand that the book of Micah is not one sermon, but a collection of Micah’s greatest hits, so to speak, condensed and summarized over a lifetime of preaching.

          Of further interest, I hope, is that Micah followed both Amos and Hosea as Israel’s prophet. He was also a contemporary of Isaiah, one of those long-winded major prophets, so it’s not surprising that their books have many similarities.

          Micah was from a small village called Moresheth, about 30 miles southwest of Jerusalem. His town happens to be on the main coastal caravan highway where there was a lot of coming and going, a very high traffic area. So Micah would have grown up with a fair amount of knowledge regrading world events.

          The outline for Micah’s book is pretty easy to follow:

1.    Chapters 1-3 are all about the failure of Judah and Israel to be Godly, and Micah predicts God’s judgement is coming.

2.    Chapters 4 and 5 offers some hope, as Micah also predicts that one will come to give restoration and peace, someone who is God-like – the Messiah.

3.    Chapters 6 and 7 plead with the nation to change their ways and live more Godly lives.

Furthermore, 2nd Kings 15-20 gives us the historical background of Micah. God had desired to reveal himself to a people. So, God began by selecting the Jewish nation. God freed them from Egyptian slavery, gave them a law, and gave them a land.

It was God’s desire that Israel live in community, keeping the divine law, loving both God and people and establishing justice. God would make them prosper, the other nations of the world would see and want such order for themselves. And so, naturally, they would come to know Israel’s God.

     It’s the same sort of plan that car dealers might use. Put your sportiest, brightest, coolest looking car out front, polish it till it gleams like a diamond, put banners up, some dramatic lighting and get your best sales people hover nearby. The idea is you’ll see it, want it, buy it, and tell all your friends where you got it. God has sort of the same plan here.

     At first, it worked pretty well. The Queen of Sheba in Africa travelled to Israel to meet King Solomon and worship his God. She said of Solomon’s great reign, “The half of it was not told to me.”

     But as time went by, Israel got a little lazy in their covenant with God. There rumblings about why they didn’t have a King, like other nations. The people starting taking some short cuts, morally. They married outside their faith, false worship, idolatry – crept in. Their religion became a convenience. They took God on their own terms and began to treat each other horribly.

     At this point, the prophets start to appear and Micah was one of them. You can get an idea of the general tone of his message from the very first chapter. “The Sovereign Lord will testify against you… the people of Israel have sinner and rebelled against God… Who is to blame, who is guilty… Samaria, the capitol of Israel and Jerusalem, the capitol of Judah.” Micah says that God will make Samaria a pile of ruins in the open country. From sleek, gleaming sports car on the showroom floor to a rusted out, faded wreck up on cinder blocks. From first to worst. That’s the picture Micah paints of Israel.

     Clearly God is saying that Israel is going to be removed as a chosen nation because of the embarrassment God feels at having his name associated with a corrupt people. The same thing was said to the churches in Revelation 1-3. Jesus called us “the light of the world.” But when are ways are darkness, God promises to “remove the lamp stand”.

     The trouble with Micah’s audience is that they were in denial. “Come on, Micah, we’re not that bad,” they said. “Who’s to say God speaks through you anyway? Get a life Preacher, don’t be so serious. The Good Lord would never do that to us.”

     So, like any preacher who feels he is being dismissed, unheard – Micah turns up the volume. He becomes more dramatic. Look at Chapter 1, verse 8 for example… “I will walk around barefoot and naked. I will howl like a jackal and wail like an ostrich.” That would be pretty hard to ignore, don’t you think? Sounds like a two year- old having a meltdown – walking around barefoot and naked, wailing and howling till they get what they want. And we all know how impossible it is to ignore a 2 year old.

     Micah also used humor on his audience, particularly puns. For instance, in chapter one, verse 10, he preaches, “Don’t tell our enemies in Gath…” Gath sounds a lot like the Hebrew word for “tell.” So Micah is saying, “Don’t tell our enemies in tell city.”

Next he cries out, “In Beth-le-aprah roll in the dust.” Aprah means “dustiness”. So his word here is “In the city of dustiness, go roll in the dust.”

The he cries out, “Those who live in Zanaan do not dare to come out of their city.” Zanaan means “to march” or “go out”. So he is saying, “Those who live in march out city, will not go out.”

     It’s as if I stood up here and said that America’s sin is so bad that Pittsburgh really is the pits. Or, we are so dirty as a nation that Washingtonians need to wash, and Wisconsin is living up to its name – WisconSIN, or there are no saints in St. Paul.

     Now for the clincher! Micah shaves his head bald and invites others to do the same, in verse 16. You see, when foreign armies conquered a nation, they shaved the people’s heads, not only as a sign of shame, but also for easy identification.

     “Get ready,” says Micah, “God’s judgement is coming. The Syrian army is on the move and they are the instruments of God’s anger.”

     Maybe that’s why we don’t spend much time with Micah. It’s hard to be around a naked, wailing, bald man who complains so much and tells bad jokes. But if we keep on reading, Micah will tell us the specifics of what’s upsetting God about Israel’s behavior, and perhaps we will hear a word that applies to us as well. It’s all there, very current – greed, selfishness, a religion that only tells people what they want to hear, and leaders who use their position for their own personal benefit. Micah was preaching to a culture not to different from our own.

     But Micah is not entirely negative. After describing Israel’s slide into sin and political collapse, Micah softens up a bit. In chapter 5, he predicts a coming Savior, a Messiah. “Bethlehem, you are one of the smallest towns in Judah, but out of you I will bring a ruler for Israel, whose Family line goes back to ancient times.”

     800 years later, this very scripture was to guide the wise men to Bethlehem in their quest to find this new born King of the Jews.

     Remember Micah’s outline:

1.    Israel is ungodly and doomed.

2.    A Messiah, who is God-like, will come.

3.    A final plea for God’s people to be Godly.

That brings us to chapter 6: 1-8, our passage for this morning. God invites the people to plead their case. “If you’ve got a problem with me,” says God, “spit it out.” But know this. I, God, have a problem with you.” Then God takes them on a brief history tour, reminding them of his plans for them and of his strong deliverance over the course of the years.

Next comes what God is really after: God-fearing, or I think a better to say it, God-respecting behavior. I know that you all recognize Micah 6:8, it’s one of my favorites, I often use it as a charge at the end of our service – “What does the Lord require of you…” It’s one of the most famous, and beautiful passages in the Bible.

Some of you who are devoted students of Presidential history will recall that when Governor Jimmy Carter of Georgia was sworn in as President of the United States, the Bible he had his hand on was open to this very verse. “What does the Lord require of you but this: to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.”

That is what God is after. That is perhaps the best description of what religion, any religion, means. Whenever anyone asks you, “What does your religion, what does your church believe in, what does your church do? Answer with this verse and you can’t go wrong.

Micah maybe a minor prophet, but there’s nothing minor about what he has to say. He may only have 7 chapters on 6 pages of our bibles. But what he has to say is definitely major. What does the Lord require of us but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.

Words to live by. May God be praised. Amen.

1-26-2020 The Beginning of Somthing

Thomas J Parlette

“The Beginning of Something”

Matthew 4: 12-23

1/26/20 

          Brian McLaren and Tony Campolo tell a parable of a boring, little town that decided to hold a footrace. On the appointed day, the runners showed up in all their athletic finery. The crowds gathered to cheer them on. But then, something strange happened.

          The runners took a step or two, maybe three, across the starting line, and then abruptly stopped. One man fell to his knees, crying, “I have crossed the starting line! This is the happiest day of my life! He repeated this again and again, and even began singing a song about how happy he was.

          Another woman started jumping for joy. “Yes!” she shouted, raising her fist in the air. “I am a race-runner! I’m finally a race-runner! She ran around jumping and dancing, getting and giving high fives to others who shared her joy at being in the race.

          Several people formed a circle and prayed, quietly thanking God for the privilege of crossing the starting line, and thanking God that they were not like the skeptics who didn’t come dressed for the race.

          The spectators were baffled by this strange behavior, but finally one observer turned to a neighbor and suggested that maybe they ought to get into the race. And so they did. And many others joined them. Soon everyone was kicking off their dress shoes, slipping out of their jackets, throwing all the unneeded clothes on the grass. And they ran – past the praying huddles and past the crying individuals and past the jumping high-fivers. And they found hope and joy in every step, and they grew stronger with hill and mile. To their surprise, the path never ended – because in this race, there was no finish line. So they were never bored again. (1)

          It’s great to start something – but it’s even more satisfying to participate in the whole race. And this morning, we are at the beginning of something – the beginning of a life of discipleship.

          Today we hear Matthew’s version of how Jesus started his ministry. We begin with a hint of danger.

          John has been arrested and Jesus takes up his ministry of preaching repentance. But Jesus expands the mission by telling people WHY they need to repent – “for the Kingdom of Heaven has come near.”

          Many Christians have difficulty understanding the “kingdom of heaven” references in Matthew, and their misunderstandings may shape the way they respond to the call embodied in this passage. Jesus’ references here and throughout Matthew, as Anglican bishop and Bible scholar N.T. Wright notes, are not teachings about how to go to heaven. They are not about “our escape from this world into another one, but to God’s sovereign rule coming “on earth as it is in heaven.”(2)

          In short, this is what Jesus has come for: to announce and usher in God’s Kingdom. While it is not untrue to say that Jesus came to earth to die, it is more true to the Gospels to say that he came first to live. Jesus came to announce the Kingdom, to invite sinners to come on in, to proclaim the demands of living this way, and in the end, bring in God’s kingdom. For this, he ultimately was killed. Though some of the very early Christian creeds, such as the Apostles Creed, jump directly from Jesus’ birth to his death, the reason for which he lived cannot be overlooked. In fact, it can be rightly said that Jesus’ death takes on its true significance only in connection with how he lived and how he proclaimed God’s kingdom(3)

          Jesus then calls his first disciples – “follow me, and you will fish for people.” And we know that we are at the beginning of something. Peter, Andrew, Jams and John, they knew it too. For they immediately left their nets and their boats and followed Jesus. Such was the power of Jesus’ call – it touched a chord somewhere deep inside these Galilean fishermen.

          I wonder how many of you remember the wildlife TV show “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.” When I was growing up, it was on Sunday night, right around dinner time, just after ABC’s Wide World of Sports and right before “The Wonderful World of Disney.” Before we had the Animal Planet network, we had either Jacques Cousteau or Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. I loved that show. So I was pleased when I ran across an article by Presbyterian Pastor Rodger Nishioka that talked about one of his favorite episodes that he watched with his father, also a Presbyterian minister.

          This episode featured elephant seals in Argentina. The show focused on a mother and her seal pup, who had just been born. Soon after giving birth to her baby, the mother, so famished, abandoned her pup on the shore so she could go find something to eat in the rich waters off the coast. After eating, she returned to a different part of the beach and began to call for her baby. Other mother seals had done the same thing, and all had returned at a similar time; Nishioka remembers thinking “They would never be able to find one another.” The camera followed the mother as she called to her pup and listened for a response. Following each other’s voices and scents, soon the mother and her pup were reunited. The host of the program explained that, from the moment of birth, the sound and scent of the pup are imprinted in the mother’s memory, and the sound and scent of the mother are imprinted in the pup’s memory. Nishioka remembers “This fascinated me, especially when my Dad turned to me and said, “You know, that how it is with God. We are imprinted with a memory of God, and God is imprinted with a memory of us, and even if it takes a lifetime, we will find each other.”(3)

          I like to think that’s what happened to Peter, Andrew, James and John. Jesus’ call stirred some deeply imprinted memory that moved them to follow Jesus.

          And to what exactly does Jesus call his disciples – and us. There are a few different answers to that question. Some Christians would say that Jesus calls us to belief, in him as the Son of God and our Savior. And that is true, as far as it goes. Others might say that Jesus calls us to church membership, to be a part of the Christian community. Also true. Others would say the call to follow me is a call to service. True as well. But I like how Dietrich Bonhoeffer described what Jesus’ call to follow means. Bonhoeffer said that the call to “follow me” was a call to “absolute discipleship” and that only in surrendering ourselves to Jesus command could we, paradoxically know our greatest joy.”(4)

          So belief, community and service are all a part of the call to follow, but living as an absolute disciple means living a lifestyle that in all things witnesses to God’s coming kingdom.

          For instance, consider the story of a young man named Scott Harrison. At 28 years old, Scott looked like he had it all. He was a successful nightclub promoter who got paid big money to organize parties that attracted wealthy young people and celebrities to New York City nightclubs. He spent his nights partying, drinking and gambling and his day sleeping.

          While partying on vacation in Uruguay, Scott suddenly realized that the money and the parties and his social status weren’t making him happy. He had recently begun reading the Bible and studying theology books. He said, “I was trying to find a way back. I’d grown up with a Christian faith that I had completely walked away from.” Scott made a promise that night that he would change his life.

          When he got back from vacation, Scott quit his job and began applying to work with humanitarian organizations like Oxfam and the Peace Corps. But they all turned him down because they couldn’t figure out how his skills as a nightclub promoter and party organizer could be used to help people.

          Finally, Scott got accepted to work with an organization called Mercy Ships. Mercy Ships is a non-profit organization that sets up hospitals on old cruise ships and sends them to the poorest parts of the world. Scott was put on a ship to Liberia and was given the job of photographing the work of the Mercy Ships doctors. He took before and after pictures of patients with tumors, leprosy, cleft palates, all sorts of ailments. Scott was so inspired by the work of these doctors that he wanted to share it with someone. He had kept his old email list of clients from his nightclub promoting days, and on a whim, he emailed pictures of the Mercy Ships mission to his old clients. Soon afterwards, Mercy Ships began receiving donations from some of the most unlikely people on earth – the wealthy nightclub partiers who used to be Scott’s best clients. And suddenly, Scott knew exactly how God could use a former nightclub promoter to do the work of witnessing to the Kingdom of God.

          Scott returned to New York and organized a huge party. He got his old clients to donate the venue and the refreshments, and he charged 20 dollars a ticket to attend – a cheap fundraiser by New York City standards. But he raised thousands of dollars that night, and gave every penny to Mercy Ships.

          But then God gave Scott Harrison an even larger vision for building the Kingdom of God. While in Liberia, Scott learned that 2.1 billion people around the world do not have access to clean drinking water. So he created “Charity: Water”, a non-profit that has funded 30,000 water projects in 26 countries and provided clean drinking water to over 8 million people. One hundred percent of the public donations made to Charity: Water go to fund water projects all around the world.(5)

          Come, follow me, and I will send you out to fish for people, says Jesus. Help me build the Kingdom of Heaven. God will use the most unlikely people to build the Kingdom. Somewhere in your soul lies the imprint of God, waiting to be stirred. When we listen to Jesus’ call to follow me, we begin a race that never really ends until we reach the Kingdom.

          This is truly the beginning of something – a life long journey pointing to the ways God is at work in this world.

          May God be praised that we are called to follow and witness to God’s coming Kingdom. Amen.

1.    Homileticsonline, retrieved 1/13/20

2.    Greg Garrett, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p285, 287.

3.    Troy Miller, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p287.

4.    Rodger Nishioka, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Press 2010, p284, 286.

5.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXVI, No. 1, p25.

1-19-2020 The Lamb of God

Thomas J Parlette

“The Lamb of God”

John 1:29-42

1/19/20

          In the chapel of the Unterlinden Museum in Colmar, France, visitors will find the impressive Isenheim altarpiece painted by Matthias Grunewald in 1515. The crucifixion scene, seemingly drawn from John’s Gospel, portrays the dying Christ surrounded by his mother, the Beloved Disciple, and Mary Magdalene. Surprisingly, the artist also includes the figure of John the Baptist, even though we know from the story that John was not actually present.

          Facing the viewer, John the Baptist holds the open scriptures in one hand, while the other hand points to Jesus on the cross. At his feet stands a lamb with a cross in the crook of his foreleg, the ancient symbol of the Agnus Dei. The image illustrates John’s role as Christ’s “point man” – showing as well as telling onlookers who Jesus is. That is precisely what the writer of John’s Gospel does in these verses before us this morning.(1) John bestows upon Jesus the title “Lamb of God.”

          After John’s Prologue, or Overture, the remainder of the first chapter of the Gospel of John is structured by a series of four days.

Day 1- The priests, Levites, and also Pharisees come out from Jerusalem to question John about his identity. Is he the Messiah? Elijah? Some sort of Prophet? And what is this baptizing about?

Day 2 – Jesus comes out to be baptized and receives the Spirit from heaven. John doesn’t actually show us the scene as the other Gospels do, he only alludes to it. Some scholars have speculated that John does this because he assumes people already know the story, why tell it again. The Gospel of John adds its own spin to Jesus’ baptism as John the Baptist recognizes Jesus’ superiority to himself and announces Jesus as “the Son of God” and “the Lamb of God.”

Day 3 – John, standing with two of his disciples, sees Jesus and proclaims him again as “the Lamb of God.” John’s two disciples accept Jesus’ call to follow him, and Simon also becomes a follower.

Day 4 – Jesus goes with these new disciples to Galilee, recruits Philip and Nathanael, and teaches them that they will see and experience even “greater things.”(2)

          Our passage for today deals with the events of Days 2 and 3, both of which include a reference to Jesus as the “Lamb of God.” This title “Lamb of God” occurs in John alone among the Gospels and otherwise in the New Testament only in the Book of Revelation, where a different Greek word for “lamb” is used.

          There could be many reasons why the writer of John chooses to call Jesus the Lamb of God. Keep in mind that John the Baptist spoke Aramaic, as did Jesus. And in Aramaic, the word for “lamb” is the same word for “servant.” So when John the Baptist announces, “Look, the Lamb of God,” he could also be saying, “Look, the servant of God.”(3)

          John may also want us to think back to the Old Testament story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Isaac – then at the last minute, God supplies a ram – a sheep takes the place of the son.

          It could also be that John wants us to recall the triumphant lamb of Jewish apocalyptic literature who overcomes evil at the last judgment, as in the book of Revelation.

          And there are other overtones to this image of the lamb of God as well. It could serve as a link between Jesus and the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, who goes like a lamb to the slaughter. Or, it could be a reference to the lamb slaughtered just before the Exodus, whose blood was applied to Jewish families doorposts to spare them from losing their first born.

          All of these images contain allusions to the sacrificial nature of Jesus. Jack Miles, who has explored the “lives” of God and Jesus as narratives, has written that the startling image of the Messiah as lamb radically rejects earlier biblical images of royal majesty, and that in choosing this metaphor, God, through Jesus, is choosing weakness and electing to play the role not of All-Powerful Passover Deliverer – but of the sacrificial Passover Lamb.

          In Jesus, God sacrifices his Son so that he may become human, that we might know how much God loves us. And then Jesus sacrifices himself that we might know the power of God’s love – that God’s love for us is stronger than sin and death. The Lamb of God sacrifices himself to redeem us and save us.

          In March 2011, and earthquake in Fukushima, Japan, shut down critical processes at the Fukushim Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, causing a nuclear meltdown and the release of radioactive materials into the environment. Hundreds of workers were called to clean up the site after the meltdown. Day after day, they were exposed to dangerous levels of radiation in the course of their work.

          Yasuteru Yamada, a 72- year -old engineer, hated the thought of all the young men who would be sickened and killed by the radiation. So he organized the volunteer force of hundreds of elderly Japanese engineers to take over the worst part of the clean -up project.

          Those elderly workers knew that this work would poison them. If it didn’t kill them in the short, then they would face an increased risk of cancer in the long run. Yet they still volunteered for the work. They wanted to save the younger men from suffering and death, so they willingly volunteered to take their place.(4)

          Such is the sacrifice of both God and Jesus on our behalf. In Jesus, God sacrifices His Son so that he may become human and share our state of brokenness to assure us that God is present.

          Poet Christian Wiman has had a fascinating and poignant journey as a poet and a Christian. He embodies the idea of faithful witness in the midst of a broken world. One of his poems, written during his struggle with an incurable blood cancer, is entitled “Every Riven Thing.”

          Wiman once said in an interview with Radio Open Source:

“Riven means broken, it means shattered or wounded or unhealed, and I think that notion is very important to me and my notion of God and of religion; that we are broken creatures, very broken creatures. And I don’t think of God as necessarily healing that brokenness as much as participating in it”

          In his poem “Every Riven Thing”, Wiman offers this repeated phrase throughout the poem: “God goes belonging to every riven thing he’s made.” It is offered 5 times with different punctuation each time, illuminating the many ways God is found in the broken spaces of life, in essence holding us together. The poem goes like this:

          “God goes, belonging to every riven thing he’s made

Sing his being simply by being the thing it is: stone and tree and sky, in man who sees and sings and wonders why God goes.

          Belonging, to every riven thing he’s made, means a storm of peace.

          Think of the atoms inside the stone.

          Think of the man who sits alone trying to will himself into the stillness where God goes belonging.

          To every riven thing he’s made there is given one shade shaped exactly to the thing itself: under the tree a darker tree; under the man the only man to see God goes belonging to every riven thing.

          He’s made the things that bring him near, made the mind that makes him go.

          A part of what mans, apart from what man knows, God goes belonging to every riven thing he’s made.”(5)

          In Jesus, God comes to us. God joins us in our brokenness to experience life as we experience it. God sacrifices his son that he may become human.

          Jesus then sacrifices himself to show us that God’s love is stronger than sin and death itself.

          Such is the nature of the Lamb of God.

          May God be praised. Amen.

1.    Karen M Hatcher, Feasting on the Gospels, Westminster John Knox Press, 2015, p27.

2.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXVI, No. 1, p19.

3.    Troy Miller, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p263.

4.    Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXVI, No.1, p20.

5.    Joseph J Clifford, Feasting on the Gospels, Westminster John Knox Press, 2015, p30.

1-12-2020 You, Me and Jesus in the Jordan

You, Me and Jesus in the Jordan

Rev. Jay Rowland

Matthew 3:13-17

13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved,[a] with whom I am well pleased.”                      [a] Or my beloved Son 

The baptism of Jesus is perplexing to many people.  That list includes John the Baptist, himself.   

“Why have you come to me?” John asks Jesus.  “It is I who should be baptized by you.”  

Jesus’ response to John is somewhat less than satisfying, at least to me. But John apparently gleans enough to set aside any prior objection he had and baptize Jesus.  But ever since Jesus “came up out of the waters” of the Jordan, many Christians have wondered, why? 

Why was Jesus baptized? 

All four gospels attest to this event and the key details-which indicates this is extremely important.  But let’s back up before we go any further.

Before this happens, John the Baptist burst onto the scene calling his fellow Jews to repent and be baptized, essentially declaring everyone ritually unclean according to Jewish Law, and therefore in need of appropriate cleansing.  The basic idea of repenting and cleansing sin is nothing new, but the way John is confronting this and what he’s offering as a response clearly is.

We are so familiar with this story that we don’t blink at the fact that this takes place outside and in a river—the River Jordan to be precise.  Jewish religious leaders would NEVER consider it a proper or appropriate place to perform important religious rites or practices.  So everything about John’s repent-and-be-baptized campaign is highly unusual--like John himself. Religious matters were simply NEVER conducted outside the Temple, let alone outside as in the great outdoors.  Then there’s the source of the water being used in this religious rite, it doesn’t merely come from a river—it IS the river! 

Everything about this “thing” that John is doing is new and different and significant. Consider the absolutely stunning action occurring in this rite:  the one being baptized is entirely submerged—their entire body—into the moving water of the river, submerged and held in the arms of the baptizer, unable to breathe while under water and unable to bring themselves back up of their own volition. The baptized person is literally buried under water until the officiant raises the supplicant up out of the water.  

Baptism is now so domesticated in comparison. Our modern ritual has lost the incredible, raw energy and personal experience of God’s power and presence. I don’t mean to knock current baptism practice.  It has to be the way it is now, more or less.  We simply cannot trek down to the nearest river for every baptism. And even if we could, well, on a day like today—a typical January day in Minnesota—few if any of us would likely consent.  It’s clearly impractical to baptize they way it was first instituted by John and his early successors. 

But I truly lament what we’ve lost from the original practice—it doesn’t resonate as powerfully indoors as it did outdoors. The wild, flowing, alive, moving river; the momentary helplessness of being submerged under the flowing river’s current until lifted from that vulnerable position back up into the oxygenated air, and the surroundings of a river teeming with LIFE. 

When John began this practice it was so radical.  And clearly baptism today is nothing close to radical.

John the Baptist is introduced to us as a sort of radical himself. In the verses preceding this baptismal scene, Matthew describes John as an extreme person, living in the wilderness (unheard of) and relying upon nature for his food, his clothing, his shelter, etc. (see also Luke 1:80)

It’s easy to forget this radical figure is John the son of the Priest Zechariah (Luke 1:5ff), who himself is the son of a priest and descendant of a long line of priests.  If that name doesn’t trigger any reaction, perhaps his mother Elizabeth does—remember a pregnant Elizabeth is visited by a pregnant Mary—the baby inside Elizabeth leaps when Mary speaks (Luke 1:41).  Elizabeth is a descendant of Aaron—a revered tribe of priests dating all the way back to Moses.  The stories about John in the womb of Elizabeth don’t prepare us for the man he grows up to be--John the Baptist with his radical lifestyle, appearance, faith and religious practice.  It never occurs to us that John is, in the words of Richard Rohr, “Jewish Royalty”. 

John’s priestly pedigree makes everything about what he’s doing even more striking. John has effectively created a new religious ritual, located outdoors, outside the Temple, standing in a river, no less.  He might or perhaps should have been dismissed as a quack. And perhaps many did.  But we know there was one important figure who did not dismiss John. 

What John is doing in that river is saturated with deep meaning, symbolism and spiritual power. The symbolism and meaning remains, and the power too if we allow ourselves to see it.  After all, water, the main element of baptism is the single element essential for all life, not only human life, but animal life, plant life; all LIFE is not possible without water.  Even on other planets there’s no possibility of life without the existence of water.

But also consider how water behaves when it moves.  Water naturally flows into and fills the lowest places.  Here too is a powerful metaphor of God’s self-emptying nature and love, so richly revealed in Jesus who continually “flows” into and fills the lowest places. 

The baptism John is offering utilizes water that comes not out of a container, nor sits latent in a pool somewhere, but is utilized in a natural state, flowing, and churning, with currents swirling, constantly moving.  Rivers have a starting point (or source), and ending points or they pour into another river or body of water.  Rivers (and other water sources like lakes or oceans) have always been places where cities and communities are settled and established, dependent upon the wealth of resources rivers present. Consider also the rich natural life and habitat rivers represent for all creatures; there are countless points and occasions of interaction with creatures and plants of all kinds.  

Jesus is intuitively drawn to all of this and presumably to John.  Like John, however, we are confused because our expectation is that Jesus should be doing the baptizing.  Jesus quickly assures John that it’s right and good for John to do this.  Because Jesus will also spend great amounts of time outside of the Temple, revealing that God is not and cannot be housed or contained in one single place in time, for human convenience. God is more like the wild, untamed river.  As is Jesus who continually flows to the lowest of the low, pouring out his God-essence God first pours into Jesus. 

In John’s eyes, everyone is captive to sin and able to benefit from repentance. John makes no distinction between the devout and the righteous (e.g., Pharisees, Priests, etc.) on the one hand, and so-called riffraff on the other.  Jesus comes to be baptized by John even though he (Jesus) is without sin and has nothing to repent. In doing this, Jesus chooses to stand with all of humanity, in all of its sinful, lost, broken, belligerent, unredeemable messiness.  Jesus stands with peasants, pagans, losers, rejects; with tax collectors and lepers; with the suffering, the diseased, the oppressed; with the self- or other-condemned: drunks, punks, derelicts and prostitutes; the dazed and confused, the addicted, and with any and every disreputable sinner of every class, race, religion, tribe, etc. 

And so when Jesus is plunged backwards and submerged in the Jordan, Jesus is not merely a “good example” for people to follow, it’s not a gimmick or a publicity stunt.  (John suspects that’s why the Pharisees and Temple leaders are coming to be baptized and he sternly condemns them as a brood of vipers and hypocrites). Furthermore, Jesus isn’t pretending to be “like us”, he’s not role-playing, he’s not “slumming it” and he’s not corrupting the divine nature either. 

When Jesus goes under that water, he binds himself to you and me in the depths of whatever amount of death life shall put us through.  There, under the water, Jesus reveals God’s unity with each one of us. Jesus is baptized among and alongside the lowest and most common of human beings—just as he was also crucified; permitting no distinction between himself and anyone else.  His baptism is “right” because it reveals Jesus (God’s) chosen unity with broken humanity.  In the water, under the water, Jesus meets us most powerfully--down there, at the point, the lowest point of our human broken-ness.  Jesus’ baptism by John reflects his life and his essence, captured by the hymn in Philippians (2:6ff):

Christ Jesus,

who, though he was in the form of God

    did not regard equality with God

    as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,

    … being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

     he humbled himself

    and became obedient to the point of death—

    even death on a cross. 

Therefore God also highly exalted him

    and gave him the name

    that is above every name …

So, yes, Jesus gets himself baptized just like you and me.  But that’s not the end of the matter, it’s merely the beginning.  From there Jesus continually goes forth with us and for us, continually invites us back from our broken-ness and from the disruptions of sin and life in a broken world to break bread with him, to dine with him, to drink with him—transforming any table into God’s table, continually reserving our seat at the Kingdom Table.

Baptism has become somewhat tame and orderly.  That’s too bad, really. We could all use a vivid memory of being plunged beneath the waters, buried, then raised up from them by no effort of our own, regaining breath at the last best moment. Because when bad things happen, doubt creeps in and tries to convince us we have no place in God’s heart, to say nothing of God’s table.  Troubles bring us to our knees, displacing God’s goodness and the reality of Jesus as God-with-us.  Yet Jesus’ baptism boldly declares that Jesus willingly gives up his own seat at the Kingdom Table for you and for me ... for each one of us.  And if we happen to forget or forsake any of that, no matter. One day we shall discover there were no conditions limiting this powerful Grace of God. 

Martin Luther was reportedly fond of urging his congregations to repeat a phrase he often repeated himself, particularly when he was troubled with doubt: “I AM BAPTIZED”.  The one in whom God is well-pleased comes up from the waters of baptism immediately reflecting God’s message right back to us, “this is my beloved”: You and I we are now, we already were, and we forever shall be God’s beloved in whom God is well pleased.  No exceptions.   

Remember Jesus baptism.  Remember your baptism.  And every time we celebrate baptism here in this place, remember in that moment our true identity is revealed, and we are grafted onto the Body of Christ, sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked as Christ’s own forever. 

Forever.