Grove Presbyterian Church

 Sermon: Unexpected People

Preached:  May 13, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  Acts 10: 1-48; John 15: 12-17

             For those of you who were here last Sunday, you may be sensing a theme developing.  You would be right.  Last week, we looked at the story from Acts about Philip and his preaching in Samaria and on the wilderness road.  We noticed that God sometimes directs us to tell the Good News in unexpected places.  Today, and for the next several weeks, we will look at other unexpected aspects of Christ’s call to proclaim God’s blessings.  Today we look at unexpected people.  That might have been a good title for last week’s sermon as well, for the Samaritans and the Ethiopian eunuch were certainly not people whom the earliest disciples would have thought would be among those whom God would call to follow Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of the Jewish covenant.  But God did.

Today’s story from Acts stretches the early church – and us – in a different direction.  Leading into the story, Luke tells us that Cornelius is a centurion with the Italian cohort in Caesarea, and that he was a devout man who feared God.  To our ears this might not sound too much of a stretch for the early disciples.  Yet, in a part of the story not read this morning, Peter tells Cornelius that they both know that it is unlawful for Jews to associate with or to visit in the home of a Gentile.  That Peter would come at the bidding of a Gentile, to the Gentile’s home, can only be explained by God’s direct intervention and call.  What Peter does not go on to say, but which is evident in Luke’s providing of the details of Cornelius’ life, is that any Gentile would have been an issue, but a Roman centurion, a member of the occupying army who was living in a heavily Roman-oriented town, would have been especially daunting.  Peter would not have forgotten that it was the Roman authorities who had carried out the execution of Jesus Christ at the bidding of the Jewish authorities.  These were the same authorities who were orchestrating the persecution of the fledgling church, for the same reasons that they had sought the execution of Jesus.  They were afraid of the disruption, of the unsettling influence of this new sect, and how the Romans would react to them.  Some were concerned for their own power, but some were also concerned about the direction they felt this new group was taking, a direction they felt was contrary to God’s way.    Peter may have feared for his own life.  He might also have been afraid that this visit would provide another excuse for the authorities to attack the Church.  He certainly would have been afraid of going against the rules which God had set forth. 

            God knew these concerns, and spoke to Peter in a dream.  ‘Do not call unclean what I have declared clean.’  So with this vision fresh in his mind and heart, Peter answered the call when Cornelius’ servants came to the door of Simon the Tanner and asked for Peter.

            Peter went to Cornelius, and explained both his hesitation and God’s revelation to him.  Then Peter began to share the good news of Jesus Christ.  While Peter was still speaking – he didn’t even have the chance to explain everything fully! – while he was still speaking the Holy Spirit fell upon Cornelius and his household.  This was clearly not just the power of Peter’s preaching – it was God at work.

            The people, the Jews who had traveled with Peter, were astounded.  Here was the Holy Spirit, unmistakably the Holy Spirit, falling on Gentiles, on members of the household of a Roman centurion! 

Peter also must have been at least a little surprised, but, having been prepared by the Holy Spirit for this moment, he recovered quickly and said, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”  How similar this sounds to last week’s question by the Ethiopian eunuch, “What can prevent me from being baptized?” 

Peter knew that there might be some who would question this baptism by the Holy Spirit, or at least question these Gentiles being full members of the Church.  And there were.  Luke tells us about this opposition later in Acts.  Peter wanted to solidify the relationship of this household with the body of Christ, and to remind those gathered that baptism by water is in response to the action of God in Jesus Christ.  Baptism, by water or Spirit is not ever earned, but is always a gift from God.

            Peter may have been surprised by the way the events unfolded in Caesarea, but should he have been?  He himself had received the call from Christ to love as he had been loved, to bear fruits in the name of the Christ who had called him.  In the gospel of John, Jesus tells his disciples that he now calls them friends rather than servants, because he has told them and shown them what is to come.  But Jesus also reminds them that Jesus chose them, they did not choose him.  Whom did Jesus choose – were they all learned scholars, devout temple worshippers, humble and caring companions?  Not really.

            Jesus chose a group of people from very different backgrounds and opinions.  They were fishermen, tax collectors, a zealot, and some whose occupations we never learn.  Some were arguers, persons who angled for special position.  They did not fully understand Jesus’ teachings or mission.  They ran away when the going got tough, though they did come back when called.  They were, in other words, a lot like us.

            The unexpected people of God’s blessing in Jesus Chris are both the unexpected people to whom we are called to speak – and the unexpected people whom we are called to become. 

            As we travel through this Easter time and prepare for the celebration of Pentecost, that great giving of the Holy Spirit to the Church, we ponder this question:  to whom does the Holy Spirit send us?  Are we sent to the poor, the hungry, the downtrodden and hopeless – certainly we are.  Are we also sent to those in authority, to those whom we may think have everything they need, to those whom we might even fear – to the Cornelius’ of our time?  The answer to this is also a resounding yes. 

            We are called to proclaim that God does not show partiality, but that the message which God “sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ – he is Lord of all,” is a message for all to hear.  We are to proclaim Jesus Christ as the one who came to redeem sinners from their sins, to reconcile those who are estranged from God for whatever reason, and to declare God’s great love for all humanity. 

            And lest we be afraid to proclaim this message, lest we wonder whether we have the right words, will we have the right attitude, let us remember that God goes before us in all our efforts.  Just as the Holy Spirit prepared Peter and Cornelius, so the Holy Spirit prepares us and those to whom we are called to speak.

            God has not called us to proclaim Jesus Christ because we are particularly talented at speaking, or because we are perfect or sinless.  God calls us to proclaim Jesus Christ in the full and humble awareness of our own sinfulness, and in great gratitude and joy for God’s blessing of forgiveness.  Out of an abundance of grace and love, Jesus calls us friends.  In the same abundance of love and grace, Jesus calls us to act as His friends by sharing this amazing love with others– with those whom we may touch whether near at hand or in distant places, with those who are in evident need, and with those who appear to have all they need. 

            Jesus Christ has appointed us to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.  Let us rejoice in the fellowship with Christ that this commission brings.  Let us give thanks that we do not walk alone in this commission, but that the Holy Spirit goes before us and with us, leading us, so that we may truly love one another as unexpected people of God, and truly love all the unexpected people with whom God calls us to share this good news.  Jesus Christ , the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead, has come in the grace of God to relieve us of the burden of sin. Everyone who believes in Christ receives forgiveness of sins through His name, and by God’s great mercy and love.  Let us go forth as unexpected people to unexpected people.  Let us bear fruit that will last, fruit of the Spirit, fruit that will gladden the heart of God.

 Sermon:  Unexpected Places

Preached:  May 6, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures: Acts 8:26-40; 1 John 4:7-21; John 15:1-8

            The Easter story continues!  The story of the resurrection is central to every Sunday’s worship, as we continue to explore what it means to live out the Gospel, to grow into the experience of being Easter people, just as the early Church grew.

            Today’s story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch is one example of how the Christian life is meant to be lived.  However, to understand this story, we need to back up a little in the post-Easter narrative.

            As the Easter community grew, the animosity of part of the Jewish community which did not accept Jesus Christ as the Messiah also grew.  The authorities were anxious to stamp out this heretical sect and began to imprison them.  Finally Stephen, Philip’s fellow deacon, was stoned to death.  Many in the Jerusalem church scattered to avoid persecution.

            Philip was one of those who left Jerusalem.  However, for Philip this decision was not solely for the purpose of saving his own life.  Philip did not leave for an anonymous life in the countryside.  Philip went to Samaria and there proclaimed the Gospel among people whom the Jewish establishment also considered heretics.  He preached to them about Jesus, and baptized them.

The authorities at the Temple were not the only ones surprised by this decision.  When the Jewish Christian leadership in Jerusalem heard what was happening, they sent Peter and John to check things out.  Peter and John were impressed by the response of the Samaritans, and they added their own prayers for the Holy Spirit to come upon the Samaritans.  As Peter and John returned to Jerusalem, they followed Philip’s example and continued to preach the Gospel in the Samaritan villages through which they passed.  This was a mission field in which Philip could have expected to have a long and fruitful ministry.  And he did, but there was this little detour along the way.

            After Peter and John left, an angel spoke to Philip.  ‘Go from here, down the road that passes by Jerusalem – that place of great danger – and take the road from there down to Gaza – not the main route, the wilderness route.’   Luke does not tell us what Philip thought of this idea.  Did he argue with God, saying that with Peter and John now gone, there was all the more need for him to remain in Samaria and preach?  The fields were ripe for harvest!  Did he flinch at the idea of going so close to Jerusalem?  Luke does not speculate.  He just tells us that Philip got up and went.  Philip went, not knowing exactly why he was going, or whom he would meet.   He left Samaria, headed south, passed Jerusalem at about the 30mile mark, and kept going on his way to Gaza, about another 40 miles…on foot.

            Somewhere on that road from Jerusalem to Gaza, Philip met a court official of the Ethiopian queen.  This Ethiopian eunuch had been on a journey of his own.  He had traveled approximately 1500 miles from Ethiopia to worship in Jerusalem.  Now he was returning home.  He had a hunger for God, and he was still looking for understanding as he read from the scroll of Isaiah – an expensive purchase in those days.  The Ethiopian’s faith, while still developing, was obviously a matter of great significance to him.

            Somewhere along that road, some distance from the temple, from the house churches, from any other gathering of the faithful, Philip overheard the Ethiopian reading one of the Suffering Servant passages of Isaiah.  With genuine interest, Philip asked the Ethiopian if he understood what he was reading.  Far from being insulted by this intrusion in his study, the Ethiopian invited Philip to join him in the chariot and to explain to him the meaning of this passage.  As they rode along, Philip began to talk about the Suffering Servant, and to explain about Jesus Christ.

            What a word there is for us to hear in this passage!  What a gracious message for us to hear about how to share the good news of Jesus Christ! 

            Jesus calls us to go to some unusual places to share the good news.  Most of us seem to think that this applies only mission co-workers in foreign lands.  We don’t think of the strange places as being places around us – our neighborhoods, our work places, the ballpark.  We are quite happy to share the good news to anyone who wanders into our sanctuary.  We are a lot less comfortable, with noticing opportunities to share our faith outside these walls.  We miss some extraordinary adventures when we yield to our hesitancies, to our fears.

            The Scriptures challenge us in this attitude.  Philip may have been pushed out of Jerusalem, but he didn’t have to go to Samaria.  He listened to the Holy Spirit, and preached to people who were hungry to hear about a Savior who cared about people like them.   Like Philip, we may be surprised by where we find ourselves, and where we are called to share the faith in Jesus Christ to any who will listen.  This is not to say that we are to beat people over the head with our faith.  It is to say that we need to be more open to the opportunities God places before us to know the needs and longings of the people in whose midst we find ourselves.  We need to be more attentive to the people around us.

            We may also find that where we are becomes a moving situation.  When Philip first heard the Ethiopian reading, he was walking along the road.  Philip had to run to catch up to the chariot, and then found himself invited to sit with the Ethiopian. 

            We may find that we hear an opportunity to speak, and have to run – sometimes literally – to catch up with the one whom God places in our path.  We may need to ask a question, or two or three, to understand where the person is in their searching, in their seeking.  Philip began by asking the Ethiopian if he understood what he was reading, not by assuming that the Ethiopian had it all wrong.  We may need to sit beside others for a while as we journey together in our faith.

            The place could be anywhere – the supermarket, the library, among our families, the Deacons Cupboard or the Thrift Store, at a neighborhood party.  The place could even be moving – like the chariot – an airplane, a bus, a taxi.  It may take lots of time; it may take just a few moments.

            Many years ago, when I was living in Scotland, I was walking from my home to the church for a meeting.  I was running a little behind time, so was walking quickly.  As I passed a bus stop, I noticed a woman waiting for the bus.  I almost passed her by.  Then I heard a gentle sob.  It was quiet.  I could have pretended I didn’t hear.  I was running late, after all.  But my better angel urged me to turn around. 

            I asked if she were okay – silly question, but we always ask, don’t we?  She looked at me and burst into tears.  In short order I heard a series of events which were causing her great distress.  When she finished, she gave a weak smile, and said she really would be okay.  She just needed to know someone cared, someone noticed her.  I asked her if she would like a prayer.  We prayed.   And then, after assuring myself that she was okay, I went on.  I glanced at my watch.  The whole encounter had taken a mere ten minutes.  Yet in that time, she had been reassured that someone did care, and not just me, that God cared what happened to her.  I tell you this story not to boast about my response.  I will readily, and sorrowfully, confess that I miss many more of God’s opportunities than I accept.  I share this as an example of what can happen when we attend to what is going on around us, and an example of the odd places we are given to share our faith.

            The Ethiopian was reading Isaiah.  The woman let out a quiet sob.  Another person might make an exclamation, or be reading silently a book, or offer an opinion.  The point of entry will vary, but the opportunities are often present. 

            When we continue with the story of Philip and the Ethiopian, we hear one more word to us about sharing the good news in unexpected places.  After traveling together for a while, the pair come upon a body of water.  The Ethiopian proclaims, ‘What is there to prevent me from being baptized!’ 

            We usually hear this comment as a straightforward affirmation of faith.  But one commentator asks us to hear this question with a note of hesitancy – what is there that would prevent me from me baptized – have I missed something, is the call really as open as Philip had portrayed it?  The culture of his time could have come up with any number of reasons why the Ethiopian eunuch should not be baptized.  He knew that.

What is it that prevents people from being baptized today?  Do they feel truly invited?  Do they feel welcome?  Only if they show up here on their own.  When was the last time we invited someone to church?  And if that is too challenging, when was the last time that we responded to someone’s need, someone’s pain, someone’s struggle, by offering the comfort of Christ by name?    We offer our support, maybe even our prayers, but do we share our faith, do we share what Christ means to us – in odd places, at times when we have to go out of our way to do so?  Or do we expect others to come out of their way to hear the word of God, to know the love of God?  Do we hear God’s call to this adventure?

            The Good News of Jesus Christ is indeed good news!  Wherever we carry this good news, wherever we share this wondrous story, we are accompanied by our Savior Jesus Christ.  Let us rejoice in the unexpected places where Christ makes His presence known, and where Christ invites us to share this grace-filled hope with all those whom we meet.  Let us respond to the adventure of sharing Christ’s love and mercy, by being attentive to the people around us, responding to the call of the Holy Spirit to go wherever God wants us to go, to proclaim God’s grace whereverwe are.

Resources:

Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2, pp.454-459

The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. X, 141-145

 Sermon title:  Can Love Be Commanded?

Preached:  April 29, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  1 John 3:16-24; John 10: 11-18

God spoke, and commanded the waters and the firmament to separate, and the earth was formed.  God spoke, and the tectonic plates shifted and the majestic mountains appeared.    God spoke and the clear waters ran down from the snow-filled mountains and filled the valley to form Lake Tahoe with beautiful blue-green waters.  By God’s decree, the forests around the lake were filled with living creatures big and small – ducks, foxes, coyotes, bears, and many others – a magnificent environment. Such were my thoughts as I first laid eyes upon that gorgeous area this past week when I traveled to Nevada for the annual meeting of the National Response Team of Presbyterian Disaster Assistance. 

            I was already thinking of God’s commandments, God’s decrees and creative ability, as I was preparing this morning’s sermon prior to traveling.  The power of God’s voice, the creativity and awesome wonder of God’s abilities, is so clearly evident in the midst of the physical creation.  How is it then that the God who can speak and command all this, commands us to love and love does not automatically appear.  Can love be commanded?  And if love can be commanded, why is there so much pain and sorrow in this world?  These questions, already in my mind, came sharply into focus as our meeting in Nevada progressed.  The disjuncture between the magnificent scenery and the pain being described was deeply challenging.

            Our meeting this year offered three tracks of learning: hosting of volunteer camps; long term recovery; and human-caused disaster.   I took the human-caused disaster track.  During the course of this training, many stories of human-caused suffering were shared.  Some in my group had worked with survivors of bombings or shootings.  Others had lost dear friends to such events.  We learned how to offer care and support – to survivors and to those who were caring for them.  In the midst of these stories, the question arose in my mind again.  If God can command the mountains to rise, and they do, why is God’s commandment to love one another as Christ loves us not more evidently seen in this world?  Can it be that love simply cannot be commanded?  Why then, do we have this statement in 1 John: “And this is [God’s] commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us.”

            Part of the problem is that we have created a fairy tale version of the emotion love.  Love, in our culture, has been both romanticized to the point of impossible fantasy, and also eroticized so that it is often equated primarily with sexual obsession.  We are surrounded by images of love which are highly ephemeral – shifting with opportunity and advantage.  Love seems to focus almost entirely on what’s in it for me, and less on what is the relationship with another.

            This is true for personal relationships, and it is also evident in larger settings.  Many businesses, and other organizations, focus on profitability at all costs.  Often politicians are pressured to pander to one constituency or another, despite the long term or broader consequences.  We may think these things have nothing to do with love, but they do.  Love is not only between individuals, but also includes how individuals are affected by systems.  In the midst of all this, what chance does love, even God’s commandment to love, seem to have?

            As I began to consider this passage, and especially this verse from 1 John, I learned that the word for commandment could also be translated commission.  Suddenly lights began to go off for me. Commission – we are commissioned to love as Christ has loved us!  This slight nuance of the word can  speak volumes. God chooses to work with us in a different way than God chooses to work with inanimate objects.  God chooses to be in relationship with us.

            We must be clear, that in considering this alternative translation, we are not losing any of the moral imperative of the word.  To be commissioned by one who is your creator, your redeemer and your sustainer, is not the same as receiving a friendly suggestion.  A commission is given by one who has both the authority and the power to authorize the action.  In receiving a commission, one goes forth in the name and the authority, and with the power of the one who has given the commission.  In my mind, the concept of commission versus command is in the inevitability of the action, and the source of the power to do what is said.  We may be commanded to act within our own abilities.  We are commissioned to act with God’s transforming power.

            When we are commanded to love one another as Christ has loved us, we are not being told just to feel kindly toward one another, to have some sort of mushy, naïve impression of all whom we meet.  We are commissioned to act in Christ’s love, in Christ’s name, and with Christ’s power and grace, toward all.  We are to seek the best for and from each person, even if that means setting aside our personal desires, even at times setting aside things we might richly deserve.   We are commissioned to embody the love of God in the way that Christ became the Word of God made flesh.

            At this point we might begin thinking that considering this as a commission isn’t any easier than using the word commandment.  However, if we remember that this commission/commandment is given to us by the Great Shepherd who has promised to lead us, to guide us, and to empower us, never leaving us, then we may begin to believe that we can live into this commission.  Christ is the Good Shepherd, the one who chose to lay down his life for us, who cares for us, and who calls us by name and commissions us to love as Christ has loved us.

            Love cannot be compelled, but it can be evoked.  When God commands us to love as Christ has loved us, God is not setting an impossible standard, a rule which we cannot hope to fulfill. God is giving a commission, a path by which we can know that we are abiding in Christ.  Those who claim to believe in Christ, our Redeemer, are commissioned, commanded, to love as we are loved.  Love that flows from the presence of Christ, flows through us, so that we join in ministry, are co-missioners with Christ.  We are co-missioners with all of the body of Christ, who go forth in Christ’s name, to love one another, and to love all of God’s creation.

            When the members of the National Response Team go out to areas of devastation, we do not merely bring our personal caring presence.  We bring with us the whole body of Christ, particularly our own congregations and denomination because we carry that name, but in truth we bring the whole body of Christ in its many forms.  Prayers, personal support, giving to the One Great Hour of Sharing, even the per capita helps support this ministry.  But most of all, we bring Christ and are co-missioners with Christ.

            The ministry which we give, is as much your ministry as it is mine.  We, could not go out without the support received from the congregations, and our individual families, that is given.  The love from God flows through you, through me, to those who are hurting just as the love flows from God through you in those ministries more directly visible to you.  Any time any of us act in Christ’s name, we are sharing Christ’s love on behalf of all those who believe.  In this way we are all responding to the commission, the commandment to love as we have been loved by Christ. 

            Christ’s commandment to love is Christ’s commission – to walk with Christ in the love of God, to walk with Christ to share the love of God; to serve with Christ to make visible the love of God; to love with Christ to experience the love of God.  This commandment is not some impossible burden – it is a grace from God who leads us in the way of love.  It is the grace of God in Jesus Christ who accompanies us in the Holy Spirit as we carry out the commission which we have been given.

            Brothers and sisters, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.  For this is God’s gracious commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ, and love one another as he has commanded us.  Let us rejoice in this gracious promises and commission.  Let us follow the Great Shepherd as He calls our name, leading us beside the still waters, and into the grace of love in action.

 Sermon:  The Power of Forgiven-ness

Preached:  April 15, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  1 John 1:1-2:2, John 20: 19-31

            If you forgive the sins of others, they are forgiven.  If you retain the sins of others, they are retained.  This teaching, this commission, of Jesus is one of the most difficult passages in the New Testament – and one of the most misused and abused.  We find it difficult to forgive, especially when things seem unforgiveable.  Bombings.  Shootings.  Improvised Explosive devices.  Genocides.  Murdered children.  The  media are full of these and other horrific acts.  In the face of these, words of forgiveness can ring hollow, sound cheap.

            Several years ago, in a Washington Post article (Easter Sunday, 2002), Rabbi Marc Gellman gave his explanation of the difference among Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, on the subject of forgiveness.  “In Judaism,” he said, “sinners should ask for forgiveness.  If they ask three times and are refused, then they are clean from sin.”  He claimed that the emphasis was on taking responsibility.  As he saw Christianity, “offenders should ask, but forgiveness is not dependent on a personal plea to the injured party.”  He said, “I think it’s spiritually, emotionally, and morally absurd to forgive someone who has no contrition and no remorse.” “If that were the case,” he added, “we would be compelled to forgive Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, and Osama bin Laden – none of whom were contrite.”  In  Judaism, Gellman continues, “the injured are not required – but are allowed – to forgive someone who has not asked for it.  The choice is theirs and theirs alone.”  Likewise, in Islam, according to Imam Yahya Hendi, also quoted in the article, “The wronged parties are encouraged by God’s example to forgive – but again, not commanded.”

            The logic of these men is reasonable.  It feels right.  It even seems to fit with Jesus’ commission, “If you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins, they are retained.”  Who has the power?  Perhaps we are not so far apart after all. 

            We need to look at this more closely.

            Consider the scene in the room in the passage I just read from John.  The disciples are hiding in fear, behind the locked door.  Jesus’ death is still stunning to them.  The authorities and the people are still in an uproar.  Mary’s news – that she has seen the Lord – is incredible.  Has she gone crazy with grief?  And if the Lord is risen, how will he greet them – the ones who had pledged to stay with him until the death and then abandoned him to his fate.  Will Jesus come in judgment to punish them for running away, for denying him?

            Fear is palpable in the room.  Lock the door.  Don’t let anyone in. 

            Then, Jesus is standing in their midst.  Not outside knocking.  In the midst of them.  Jesus says, “Peace be with you.”

            Stunned silence.  Could it be?

            Jesus shows them his hands and his side, a simple gesture which both identifies and accuses.  He knows; he has not forgotten. Then he speaks again.  Peace with you.  He has forgiven.

            What joy!  It is Jesus.  He is real!  He has risen!  And he comes in love, not punishment, offering peace:

            Peace to those in fear.

            Peace to those who have sinned.

            Peace to those who have disbelieved.

Jesus has come among the disciples with a silent, but effective message which both confirms who he is, but also confronts the disciples with sin – both theirs and that of the world.

            This confrontation is accompanied with an equally powerful affirmation.  Jesus stands in their midst.  Jesus does not stand apart in anger or in righteousness.  Jesus goes close, so that there can be no mistaking either the nature of the sin, nor the sincerity of Jesus’ blessing.  Peace be with you.  This presence in the midst indicates a new way, a new approach to dealing with sin.  The disciples rejoice!

            Jesus greets the rejoicing of the disciples with a commission: “As the Father sent me, so send I you.”  And then he breathed the Holy Spirit on them.  This is not only a new approach to sin, it is new life.  In Genesis, when God created Adam, God breathed the breath of life into Adam.  This is the new creation.

            After this, and only after this commission by word and Spirit, Jesus indicated, ‘If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven.  If you seize, hold on to, retain the sins of any, they are retained.’

            Any power, any authority, which is to be assumed through this statement is the power not of forgiveness, but of forgiven-ness.  It is the power which comes in humility, and in grace.  The authority, as it were, to forgive sins, is transformed into a responsibility to proclaim the gospel of repentance, the gospel of forgiveness of sins and new life, which Jesus himself proclaimed.

            As the Father sent me, so send I you.

            This is no cheap grace, no hollow call for forgiveness.  It redefines forgiveness.  Forgiveness is not simply wiping the slate clean and starting over.  The forgiveness sent by God is a powerful confrontation with evil, naming it for what it is, followed by the even more powerful affirmation of new life through the Holy Spirit.

            This transformative dimension to forgiveness corresponds to the real meaning of the word repentance.  Repentance means much more than feeling sorry, regretting.  Repentance come from the Greek words which mean to turn around, to re-orient, or to be re-oriented.  The forgiveness offered to us by God has this same dynamic – not merely a washing away of sins, but a new direction, a turning away from sins and turning to a new potential for life.

            Rabbi Gellman suggested that it is “spiritually and morally absurd to forgive someone who has no contrition and no remorse.”  Imam Hendi suggested that giving wronged parties the power over forgiveness prevents sinners from taking God for granted.  Both of these might be valid if forgiveness dealt only with the past, or only with the actions of people.

            In Christ, however, we see that forgiveness also deals with the future and with God’s power.  Forgiveness carries with it an obligation, a responsibility, and most importantly, a grace-filled ministry.  This is not meant to be a burden – it is a gift.  It is not that we are commanded to forgive, but that we are given the opportunity, and by God’s grace the power, to participate in God’s transformative action.  Rabbi Gellman suggested that we would saddle victims with a double burden if we insist upon forgiveness.  It is true that the guilt of being unable to forgive can be especially hard – especially if other people push their own self-righteous judgment on someone who is struggling to forgive.  Yet the burden of being unable to forgive can be even more harsh and destructive.  It can come in the form of  individual retaliation which can create new wrongs. The hatred and bitterness that divide people for generations upon generations following the initial injuries deadlock nations and peoples into conflicts which last for decades if not centuries. It can also come in the form of gnawing raw pain that persists with one who is unable to forgive.

            Forgiveness directly addresses these evils – and proclaims that God’s power to heal is even greater than holding on to pain and anger.

            Where is the hope in Israel and Palestine today?  Where is the hope in the Darfur region and other regions of the Sudan, or in Syria?  Where is the hope in some of our inner cities, or even in some of our gated communities?  Wherever people are bent on achieving justice through retaliation and revenge, or whose emphasis is on gaining  or retaining power over others, there is little hope.  The same is just as true in our personal and business lives as it is on a global scale.  Wherever we seek to “get our own back”, to inflict greater injury for injury, wish misery or pain on those who hurt us, we bind ourselves in hatred to those who have done us harm.

            There is an interesting aspect to Jesus’ commission, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you grasp the sins of any, they are grasped.”   Jesus doesn’t say by whom the sins are held – the sinner or by us.  If we let go, another translation of the word in this passage we usually translate forgive, if we let go the sins of others, their hold on us is released.  If we grasp them, seize them, hold tightly to that sin – then we too are held by them.  Perhaps this is as much a warning from the risen and  forgiving Jesus Christ as it is a commission.

            “As the Father sent me, so send I you.”  The sinless Jesus came into a world mired in sin, with no apparent way out of this sinful condition for the world.  He confronted the evils of this world, both in individuals and in systems.  He suffered the greatest indignity and pain which this sinful world could offer.  And then he proclaimed and produced a new way.

            The power of forgiveness begins in the power of forgiven-ness.  Unless we believe that God has forgiven us, though we do not deserve it, unless we believe that God can and will transform us, we will never believe in the power of God to transform those who have injured us or others.

            In that locked room, the disciples experienced the power of forgiven-ness, and began to hope for the rest of the world.  The Holy Spirit which Jesus breathed upon and into them freed the disciples from that locked room and opened them to the ministry to proclaim this new hope for all peoples.  We are called to the same ministry, and are offered the same Spirit.

            Our diplomats in various parts of the world are probably not allowed to use words like forgiveness and Holy Spirit.  Yet I believe that much of what they are trying to accomplish focuses on a similar idea – looking to the future with a new way of interacting.  What we must proclaim because they cannot, is that this new direction, a hope for a new and different future, cannot come from human intervention alone.  The power of the Holy Spirit, the grace of God in Jesus Christ, is as strong as ever.  If we fail to proclaim this good news, or if we mouth it without exhibiting it in the transformed nature of our own lives, we condemn others to be trapped in the cycle of unforgiven-ness.

            The power of forgiven-ness is the power to proclaim, without arrogance, God’s desire to forgive and transform.  This is the hope and promise we receive in Jesus Christ.  This is the commission which we are given. 

            For the sake of the world, for the sake of all those who are hurting, for the sake of all those who cause hurt to others, let Christ breathe upon us all with the Holy Spirit – that we might truly believe that Jesus is the Christ and believing this, might live in the light of forgiven-ness.

            This is the true and faithful hope.  This is the real power of forgiven-ness – a forgiveness received at the hand of the crucified and risen Jesus Christ, a forgiveness that is by no means cheap or hollow.  Let us live in the light and life of Christ's forgiveness.

 Sermon:   The Covenant of New Life

Preached:  April 8, 2012 (Easter) at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  Isaiah 25:6-9, Acts. 10:34-43,  John 20: 1-18

             Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!  We say these familiar words every Easter. The world could be forgiven for wondering if we really realize just how amazing and remarkable this statement is.  I learned last week of one pastor who began his Easter sermon by reading headlines from various tabloids.  He paused, and then said, “And now I want to tell you something really incredible!”  Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. 

            In our skeptical generation, there are many who find this hard to believe.  We are too scientific, too sophisticated to accept such an event.  The world is still too much of a mess to believe this story. We look at the Scriptures and see the stories of miracle feedings and healings, and assume that the first century followers of Christ were more gullible, or at least more open to mystical explanations than we who have more knowledge would be. 

            Ours is not the first generation to have these thoughts.  Thomas Jefferson edited all the miracles out of his Bible, trusting only the moral teachings and impressive example of the man Jesus.  Jefferson did believe in God, just not the miracles or resurrection.  The rationalists of the 19^th century did similar things.  In the 1960’s there was a movement that declared God dead, unnecessary due to scientific advances. 

            Most of these previous movements and today’s skeptics attribute the miracle stories, and the stories of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, to wishful thinking on the part of Christ’s disciples.  Elaborate explanations have been concocted to explain the resurrection in ordinary terms – Jesus was not really dead; it was not really Jesus on the cross.  Often these fabrications have more twists and turns than the Gospel stories themselves.  The novel, The DaVinci Code, never intended to be considered a history or theological  book, is a recent example of how an alternate explanation that takes on a life of its own.   The story told in the Gospels is at one time simpler, and more complex than anything the human mind could conceive.

            The resurrection of Jesus Christ as told in the Gospel according to John is our window this morning into understanding the extraordinary action of God behind our declaration that Christ is risen.  It suggests a very different, non-naïve, down-to-earth response from those who knew Jesus best.

            Despite witnessing miracles, including the miracle of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, and despite having Jesus tell them directly that he must die and then would be raised in three days, the disciples and other followers of Jesus show no sign of expecting Jesus to be alive when they approach the tomb on the day after the Sabbath.  Mary Magdalene, coming alone in John’s version, but in the company of other women in the other Gospels, comes to the tomb to mourn.  She sees that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb. 

            Mary Magdalene does not investigate further.  She does not assume that Christ is risen.  She assumes that the authorities have taken Jesus’ body from the tomb.  This, in fact, is what she tells Simon Peter and the other disciple.  She does not rejoice; she does not declare that Jesus has risen.  She tells them that he is gone, and someone has taken his body.

            Simon Peter and the other disciple do not contradict her.  They do not look at each other in amazement and remember what Jesus had told them.  Instead, they race to the tomb to see what has happened.  First one, then the other enters the tomb and sees both the cloth that had been wrapped around the body, and the cloth which had been placed around Jesus’ head, still in the tomb.  They are puzzled.  Why would the authorities – Jewish or Roman – take the body and not the wrappings?  Nevertheless, they do not stay around and look for other clues.  They still do not understand.  John tells us that they still did not remember the Scriptures or Jesus’ teaching about his own resurrection.  They went home.

            In her grief, Mary Magdalene did not go home.  She looks into the tomb herself.  There she finds something, someone, who was not there when Simon Peter and the beloved disciple looked in the tomb.  There were now two angels dressed in white.  Still Mary Magdalene does not understand.  She is consumed with weeping.

            The angels ask her why she is weeping.  She responds by asking them if they know where the Lord has been taken.  Before they can respond, she notices another person.  She turns to him, seeking answers wherever she can.  The unrecognized Jesus asks her why she is weeping.  Still she does not make the connection that Jesus is alive.  Does this sound like someone who is so ready to believe the unbelievable? 

            Mary Magdalene repeats her request to know where Jesus has been taken, this time offering to take care of the body herself.  It is not until Jesus responds by calling her by name, “Mary!” that the reality of what stands before her penetrates her weeping, and she recognizes the risen Christ.  In that intimate moment, Mary Magdalene begins to comprehend.  That which was inconceivable, that which was clearly not anticipated, not even secretly hoped for, is standing as a reality before her.     She reaches out to confirm with her hands that which her ears have heard and eyes have seen.  Yet Jesus tells her not to touch him – he has changed, and the change is not yet complete. 

            Jesus is risen – not resuscitated.  He is the same, and yet somehow different.  The Gospels later tell us that Jesus comes through locked doors, and yet is able to eat with his disciples. 

            The same is true with the world, the creation, with whom Jesus has united the divine.  The world is the same in so very many ways, and yet it is also radically different.  The new creation has begun, yet it is not yet completed.

            The problem with taking the miracle parts out of the Bible, and turning Jesus Christ into one of many moral teachers, is that it denies us the power to follow those moral teachings, denies the relationship which would transform us into the new creation. 

            When we stand weeping at the condition of the world, only weeping, the risen Christ speaks to us, asks us why we are weeping. Certainly there is much to weep about, much pain and suffering in this world.  Christ is not asking us to ignore the sorrows of this world.  Christ is, however, asking us why we are weeping as if there is no hope.  Why we are conceding the world to evil?  Why are we not proclaiming God’s love in all places at all times? 

            Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed is more than simply God’s grade of A+ to Jesus’ life.  It is more than God’s validation of the teachings and life of Jesus Christ.  The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the affirmation of God’s purpose and power in drawing all people to God through love and grace.

            The way of Jesus Christ, the way of hope and self-giving love, the way of repentance and vision of new life, is a way which defies the ways of the world, which sees new possibilities where the world proclaims there is no hope.  To the extent that we live in accordance with this daring and dangerous, yet faithful, message, to the extent we share the burdens of the world, and help dry the tears of the world, we proclaim, “Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!”  To the extent that we follow the ways of the world, yielding to sinfulness ourselves, defeated by the apparent inevitability of sinfulness in society, we proclaim, “Christ is still in the tomb, there was no resurrection.”  To the extent that we embrace the way things are, accepting our privileges while others suffer, giving only as much as we can without  sacrificing our own, we proclaim, “Christ was unreasonable at best, a fool at worst.” 

            “Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!”  This good news, is good news!  It is news which challenges all that we believe to be certain, and opens the way for a more powerful, more gracious certainty – the certainty of God’s love, and the certainty that God in love will transform us into the creation we are intended to be. 

            Our faith is not a matter of us molding God, or Christ, into who we want God to be, but of trusting ourselves to God, to be molded, shaped, transformed into who God desires us to be.  This is the truth we proclaim when we declare, “Christ is risen!”  This is the hope we share with the world, each and every day, when we live according to this truth. 

            The risen Christ breaks through our weeping to offer a way of hope and grace, not just to us, but to all the world.  Sustained by this truth, emboldened by the Holy Spirit, let us live as Christ calls us to live – a life in the new covenant relationship with God.  Let us share this hope, this love, with all the world.

            Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

The risen Christ is present today and every day.  Let us proclaim the risen Christ!

Sermon:  Tattered Palms

Preached:  April 1, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  Mark 11: 1-11, Isaiah 50:4-91, Philippians 2:5-11, Mark 14: 12-50

            Come with me to first century Jerusalem where we will meet a young woman named Judith.  Judith has a story to tell to us.

            Welcome to Jerusalem.  The town is not always this busy.  We have visitors here from far and near.  There are, of course, Jews who have come from miles around, and even Gentile God-seekers who have traveled here to celebrate the festival of the Passover.  Extra soldiers have also been brought in to make sure there is no trouble.  Herod and Pilate were extra cautious this year, because there was word that the teacher Jesus would be coming.  It was rumored that  he had come to Jerusalem for the festival a year or two ago, but then he was not so well-known and had kept a low profile.  Now everyone had heard of his teachings and miracles.  He could not blend in so easily, and it was not even clear that he would try. 

            Indeed, last Sunday he did arrive – and it was with great fanfare.  He came in riding on a donkey, surrounded by his followers.  They were waving palm branches and shouting, “Hosanna, save us!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”  Quickly many others joined the crowd and took up the cry.  I went with them, filled with the excitement of the day.  Could it be, we wondered?  Could it really be that the Messiah had come and would deliver us from the Romans? 

            The crowd grew and grew.  It should have been a triumphant moment for him.  For some reason, however, when I looked at him, I could have sworn I saw tears, and not happy ones, in his eyes.  It puzzled me.

            The teacher Jesus went into the temple where he exchanged a few words with the Pharisees.  The Pharisees were not happy with all this, that was clear.

Then Jesus went back to Bethany where he was staying with friends.

            Early the next morning I went down to the streets to gather up a palm – a souvenir for my grandchildren, if God grants me such a blessing.  I wanted to tell them that I was there when he came.  Most of them had been swept away, but I finally found one.  It was a bit tattered, but that would just make it more believable.

            On my way back home, I heard a disturbance at the temple.  The teacher Jesus was there, acting like a mad man.  He was turning over the tables of the moneychangers!  Goats and pigeons where scattered everywhere.  It was chaos.             

            The priests, scribes, and Pharisees were all furious.  They yelled that he was just another fake Messiah, a troublemaker who would bring down the wrath of Rome upon innocent people.  The Roman soldiers came marching in to restore order.  They did not look happy.

            I got home, shaken by what I had seen.  Could he be another false Messiah?  But what about the healings and miracles?  I did not understand.  What was happening?  I put the tattered palm away, where it could not be seen.

            The week went on, but it did not get better.  In fact, the tension grew much worse.  It should have been a happy time.  Passover is a festival of deliverance, a celebration of God’s power and redeeming love.  What if we had been fooled?  What if he really was a false messiah?

            Thursday night my whole family ate together.  Usually such a meal brought laughter and song.  That night the mood was quiet.  Someone mentioned the teacher – not by name of course – but the rest of us looked so scared that the subject was dropped.  When I went home that night I threw out my tattered palm.  I was afraid of being connected to a fraud.

            Early Friday morning  my neighbor knocked excitedly on my door.  She whispered that the teacher had been arrested and would stand trial this very morning.  In the midst of the festival?

            Later she came back with the news – Jesus of Nazareth has been condemned to death – death like a common criminal – on a cross at Golgotha, the place of the skull, that horrid place.  But first, he would be paraded through the town.  She was going to watch, did I want to come?

            I didn’t really.  I did go, though, mostly out of curiosity.  Would he look different now?  Would he be angry, defiant, ashamed?

            By the time we got to the street, a crowd had already gathered.  This time they were shouting taunts and jeers.  Hosanna, save us, had turned to “Save yourself, if you can.”  I didn’t say anything.

            Eventually he came, staggering under the weight of the crossbar of his instrument of execution.  His face was marred almost beyond recognition.  His back had been stripped of most of the flesh.  Blood was running down his face from the crown of thorns that had been forced upon his head.  He stumbled and fell, opening new wounds on his knees as they hit the stony pavement.

            “He looks like a tattered palm,” came a thought unbidden to my mind, “all crushed and battered.”

            The teacher struggled to get up.  He couldn’t.  The soldiers grabbed someone from the crowd to carry the crossbar.  As Jesus lifted his head, I was surprised to see compassion in his eyes.

            He looked right at me.  Suddenly I realized that he was not the tattered palm – I was, we all were.

            It did not make any sense, but I felt this as certainly as I trusted in God’s love and mercy which we had declared earlier in the week.  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.

            Filled with confusion, I followed the crowd to the site of the crucifixion.  I watched and waited for a word of judgment, some word of condemnation.  None came.

            Jesus told one of his followers to look after his mother.  He spoke with kindness to one of the criminals who was being executed beside him.  He asked God to forgive us.  He died, and his friends retrieved his body to bury it before the beginning of the Sabbath.

            The crowd drifted away – and I went with them.  In a daze, I picked up the tattered palm from the rubbish heap.  It was no longer a souvenir.  It was a symbol – a symbol of who I was, who I am.

            I thought back to the psalm we had chanted – Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.  I remembered what that psalm celebrated.  It was more than just a song of praise about a king who was entering the city.  This psalm was a song of victory.  It celebrates God’s action in delivering the king from defeat; God’s work in raising up one appeared to be a lost cause. 

            Where was God this time?

            Then I remembered again how it felt when Jesus looked at me: like I was a tattered palm; like we all were – bruised and battered by life’s troubles.  But we are not just bruised and battered; we are also beloved, treasured, and forgiven.

            All this happened just yesterday.  It has been hard to focus on the Sabbath today.  I decided to keep this tattered palm.  I will treasure it because it reminds me of God’s love.  It reminds me of another psalm, Psalm 31:

            You are indeed my rock and my fortress;

            For Your name’s sake lead me and guide me,

            Take me out of the net that is hidden for me,

            For You are my refuge.

            Into Your hands I commit my spirit; (31:3-5)

            Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;

            My eye wastes away from grief,

my soul and body also.

For my life is spent with sorrow,

And my years with sighing;

My strength fails because of my misery,

and my bones waste away.

I am the scorn of all my adversaries,

 a horror to my neighbors,

 an object of dread to my acquaintances;

  those who see me in the street flee from me.

  I have passed out of mind like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel.

For I hear the whispering of many –

terror all around!

as they scheme together against me,

as they plot to take my life.

But I trust in You, O Lord;

I say, “You are my God.”  (31:9-14)

Did the teacher think of this psalm too?  Into Your hand I commit my spirit – that was one of the last things Jesus said.

  So that is what I wanted to share with you.  It has been a very strange week.  I fear for tomorrow, when the Sabbath is over.  Will his followers fight back?  Will the authorities lash out?  Will it all be over?  Who knows?

I do know this - Into Your hand, O Lord, I commit my spirit.  Be gracious to me.  I will trust in You. 

 Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

             As we head toward the intense highs and lows of Holy Week, and in light of recent events in our country and around the world, I find myself pondering the effects of fear in our lives.  The Jewish authorities were afraid of this upstart teacher from Nazareth – some feared their own status, some feared the Roman response, some feared God’s response to one who appeared to them to be leading people away from proper worship of God.  The disciples feared the power of the authorities and the very real prospect of jail and death for being considered traitors.  Pilate feared political reprisals.  Herod feared making decisions and coming out on the wrong side.  Only Jesus, who also knew fear as he contemplated the crucifixion to come, did not allow fear to overcome what he knew to be necessary for the good of others.

            The media is full today of another interaction of fear.  We do not know, and may never know, the complete truth about the encounter between Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman.  Even eye and ear witness accounts tend to become shaded by personal opinions.  Yet one thing is clear – fear is at the heart of this tragedy. 

            Mr. Zimmerman lived in fear of the increasing crime in his neighborhood.  Mr. Martin lived in fear of racial profiling and prejudice, as well as being stalked by a stranger, and having a gun pointed at him.  The legislators who enacted the “Stand Your Ground” law lived in fear of a judicial system perceived as being unable to determine reasonable self-defense, thus creating, in my opinion, the inevitable situation in which both parties might conceivably imagine themselves to be “standing his ground.”  Parents of teenagers, especially black teenagers, live in fear that their children will be targeted, suspected, and executed, even when they are innocent of any wrong doing. No one should have to live in this much fear.

            It is not my intent to try this case in a pastoral letter.  I do not have all the facts.  I am glad, however, that the case will receive serious investigation.  The taking of the life of any person deserves that.  My point is to address fear – fear that clouds the truth, fear that creates barriers between people, fear that causes us to lash out at others. 

            Let us consider Holy Week, and all that goes on throughout that week: heralding of Jesus with palms and shouts of hosanna, cleansing of the temple, mutterings and plots to arrest Jesus, a final dinner and words of instruction, betrayal, denials, trials, scourging, crucifixion, bereavement, and finally the bewildering resurrection.  When we yield to our fear, we tend to skip from Palms to Resurrection.  When we admit our fear, we are freed to be embraced by the grace which comes from confronting our fears in Christ – knowing that Christ walks with us throughout any fear that we may have.  Christ helps us to overcome our fears, and enables us to act in love.  We are called to act in love, Christ’s perfect love, which casts out fear.  There is no part of Holy Week in which Christ is not a participant, the incarnation of God bearing witness to God’s amazing love in the midst of suspicions, accusations, and even execution.

            This Holy Week, let us pay close attention to God’s actions, God’s confrontation of fear and sin on our behalf.  And then, as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, let us do so with renewed humble commitment to confront fear and sin as followers of Christ, in contrast to the foolish ways of the world.

                        In Christ’s love,

 Sermon:  Covenant of Righteousness

Preached:  March 11, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  Exodus 20:1-20; Psalm 19:7-13; John 2:13-22

            Imagine you are wandering in the wilderness.  Just three months ago you were a slave in Egypt.  A strange man appeared – seeming to be half Hebrew, half Egyptian.  He claimed to have come from God, and that he would lead the people out of slavery, out of oppressive Egypt.  It sounded good.  You followed him.  It was rough to begin with – Pharoah didn’t take his claims too well, but then there was that impressive scene at the Reed Sea – a miraculous escape!  He looked like he knew where he was going.  As the months passed you began to question.  Did he know where you were going?  How was everyone to be fed – would all the cattle and sheep have to be killed to feed everyone?  And when they were gone?  What about water?  Was it really so bad in Egypt?  Water and quail and manna appear.  Organization of the groups of people begins to happen.  Now  you have come to a mountain, a holy mountain.  Your leader has gone up the mountain to speak with God.  Thunder and lightning announce the presence of God.  He returns to tell you that God expects you to be a holy people, a priesthood for the nations.    It is intimidating.  It is scary.  God’s holiness and expectations strike fear in the hearts of those who observe God’s power and righteousness.

            Translate this story to today.  We are wandering in a world that is out of control with competing interests.  Throughout the world, and even in this country, there are people who are kept in virtual if not outright slavery.  Some are slaves to other people; some are slaves to the gods of greed, fame, influence, addictions, prejudices, and/or ignorance, just to name a few of the tyrant gods of our time.  God has raised up a person, Jesus Christ,  to lead us out of this slavery, and some have followed.  Even those who follow question what it really means to follow when the going gets rough.  Does this leader really know where he is going?  What will it cost us to get there – what will we have to give up, what will be the provision for us?  And even when we experience the presence of God, that sometimes overwhelms us.  We are not too sure we want to come too close.  We are called to be holy people?  How can we? 

            This is the context of the Ten Commandments – both for the Israelites who first heard them from Moses, and for us.  It may seem odd, but the Ten Commandments are a gift – a gift from a gracious and understanding God, to a frightened and far from holy people.  As one of my colleagues in the lectionary study put it this week, “The Ten Commandments are off-putting to people.  They see them as difficult rules which they must follow.”  He was implying that newcomers and some believers see the Ten Commandments as an entrance exam – one they are sure to fail.  He is probably right about that perception.

            That is why the context of the Ten Commandments is so important.  The Ten Commandments are not given as an entrance exam.  They are God’s words to a people already chosen to become holy through God’s action.  The Ten Commandments are direction, an empowering direction, to a people who are far from holy, but who are called to be God’s witnesses to the power of God to change individuals and a whole culture.   The Ten Commandments are an invitation, not a suggestion, but an invitation to become partners with God in God’s righteousness, to become a community of faith enriched by the power of God’s Spirit to live as people who are truly free.  The Hebrews had been freed from slavery to Egypt, but they still needed to become free to live in loving relationship with one another, and with God.

            There are hints to this within the Ten Commandments, as well as within the context.  God does not begin the Ten Commandments with a statement about God’s power, or about God’s claim on the people because God created both the people and the world.  God states God’s authority by reminding the people that the God who is issuing these commandments, who is directing their lives, is the God who brought them out of the land of Egypt, out of slavery.  The whole basis of these laws is God’s caring and redemptive nature.  The God who is giving these laws is the God who cares for individuals and nations, who seeks what is best for all, even the least of these.

            Let us consider these commandments:

            We are not to make idols – of anything.   Coming out of Egypt, with its gods for just about everything; living in a time when most gods were considered regional, where you had to find out the local gods and cater to all their whims lest you risk trouble, announcing to the people that there was only one God whom they need to serve would be a relief.   Coming to us, who are constantly being stretched to meet so many expectations, when every caller wants to persuade us that their product, their cause, their issue is the most important thing going on in the world, for us to have only one most important thing in our lives, could come as a release.  We can honor many things, love many people and concerns, work for the good of many ideas or causes – but we need only, and should only, worship one God.  Really comprehending this can relieve so much stress.

            God tells us that God is a jealous God, punishing the children for the iniquity of the parents to the third or fourth generation, but showing steadfast love to those who love God and keep God’s commandments to the thousandth generation.  It is funny how we stop at the first half of this commandment – and declare it to be unfair.  We almost entirely miss the underlying statement – God’s mercy is a thousand times more powerful and gracious than God’s anger and wrath.  God is here emphasizing that God’s zeal, God’s jealousy, is for our good.  God is not acting out of wounded pride, but out of concern for what our chasing after other gods does to ourselves and to others.

            The same is true for God’s injunction about using God’s name falsely.  God is not a fuddy-duddy who wants to protect God’s image.  God wants to protect the witness that we give to others about God, because if we give a false witness about the character of God, there will be some who believe it to be the truth.  The ancient Hebrews were warned against this because many in their time really believed that if you could use a god’s name, you could control the god.  Though few in our time might believe that, we still give false witness to the character of God when we misuse God’s name.  This is true whether we are cursing – which suggests that God takes condemnation lightly – or we use God’s name to participate in a frivolous or lustful manner – suggesting that God approves actions that degrade others.   God enjoys laughter and good times, but not those which come at the pain of others.  We need to be sure not to suggest otherwise.

            Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.  These are words spoken to a people who had served others seven days a week.  These are words spoken to a people who are beginning to develop their own society, one which will inevitably include some people who are better off than others.  This is not an outline for blue laws, which make life harder.  This is a direction for rest for all people, no matter what their status.  The rest is to come for men and women, children, servants of all kinds, even the resident aliens.  The Hebrews were not to set some kinds of people aside and deny them the rest that some might enjoy.  The message is, “If God can afford to rest after six days of creating the world, so can you, and so can your servants.”   There is no one so important, so necessary, big or small, as to have to work all the time, without rest. 

            It would take a lot longer than we have today, to review all the rest of the laws of the Ten Commandments.  But I ask you to look at them.  Are they really so hard?  Is there any one of them to which reasonable objection can be made?  Would  not the world be a better place if we all observed them?  And yet, for some reason, we continue to set them aside – if not in their most overt forms, then certainly in their more subtle nuances.  We rationalize our failings, and figure out how they are not really so bad.  We look at the wrong end of things – seeking to justify our behavior, rather than stretching to reach out to grasp, or to be grasped by, the life to which we are called.  That life, the life offered to us in the Ten Commandments, the new life promised to us in Jesus Christ who is the fulfillment of the law, is a glorious gift, not a burden. 

            It is because God knows our frailties, our broken nature, that God has given us this law that leads us into a better life.  God does not leave us to our own devices, bumbling our way through the world trying to figure out what we should do. 

            The Ten Commandments, and even the multitude of laws which follow them, do not address all the issues which face us today.  Indeed, even faithful Christians disagree on how to apply these basic commandments to our current problems.  Yet the foundation is laid here, and made flesh in Jesus Christ, that the life we are called to live is one which gives witness to a holy and gracious God.  We serve God who is righteous, in and of God’s own self, and who calls us to be righteous because that is the way in which we can best live in love with God and with one another.  These standards are not set high in order to intimidate or discourage us.  They are set high, because anything less would be less than loving.  God gets angry, just as Jesus was angry in the temple, when we set anything, even religious form, above the worship of the one God, because that chases people away from the oneness in God which we are offered in Jesus Christ.

            The Ten Commandments are good news because they reveal a God who cares, who is committed to directing and enabling us to be caring and loving people, and who is willing to expend all to convince us of God’s own love.  The Ten Commandments are a witness to God’s grace, and God’s willingness to walk with us.  They are not an entrance exam; they are a working manual for participating with God in the redemption of the world.  They are a covenant of righteousness that comes as a gift of grace from a holy and loving God.  We do not win redemption or salvation through abiding by these laws.  Salvation has been given in Jesus Christ.  However, we do proclaim this gift offered to all through our response of obedience in love to the covenant of loving righteousness.  Let us be faithful witnesses to God’s righteous mercy.

 Sermon:  Stunning Covenant

Preached:  March 4, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  Genesis 17: 1-7, 15-20; Mark 8:31-38

            You can’t blame Abraham for laughing.  When God first commands Abram to leave Haran, and makes a covenant to bless him and his descendants, and, through them, all the nations, Abram is seventy-five years old and childless.  He trusts God, and goes where God tells him to go even when he doesn’t know precisely where that will be.  It is only later that Abram questions how God’s promise to bless Abram’s descendants will occur since his wife Sarai has not been able to bear children.  When Abram is eighty –six years old, Sarai, who is then seventy-seven, decides that God must not have meant that she would be the one to bear the child that would fulfill the covenant.  Note that she does not doubt the covenant, just her role in it.  So she puts forth Hagar, her servant.  And Hagar does indeed bear a son for Abram.  Yet even here there are problems.  Hagar gets arrogant; Sarai finds her position hard to bear and becomes cold.  Now God comes to Abram, thirteen years after the birth of Ishmael, when Abram is ninety-nine years old and Sarai is ninety, with this promise of a child by Sarai once again.  It is not that Abram does not want a child by Sarai, his beloved wife.  He has always wanted this.  It just doesn’t seem possible.  With all this delay, Abram can be excused for thinking that maybe this was too much even for God.  So he laughs.  But it is a laughter mixed with disappointment and frustration.  ‘Lord, give it up.  Why can’t Ishmael be enough?  I can be satisfied with Ishmael – can’t you?’

            Sometimes the blessings of God go beyond what we can imagine – though they may take a little, or a lot, longer, than we understand.  When we really comprehend the blessings of God, we should be stunned.  Laughter may be the most appropriate response to the gifts of God – not only because they bring joy and hope and trust in God’s promises, but also because they are so unbelievable beyond what we know ourselves to be deserving or capable.

            In the Gospel lesson, we have a similar reaction of disbelief.  Yet in this case, Peter’s reaction is to what appears to be bad news.  Jesus has been drawing big crowds to hear his preaching and teaching.  He has been healing and forgiving and feeding thousands of people.  Sure, the Pharisees and scribes and temple officials are not happy with him.  However, things are rolling along just as one might expect for the Messiah of God.  It can only get better from here.  Then Jesus starts talking about being beaten and killed.  ‘Jesus, don’t you understand what you are doing to the morale of your followers?  Don’t you trust us to protect you?  Don’t you trust God to protect you?’   Peter doesn’t laugh, but he also does not understand the power or purpose of God either.  He wants to limit the direction and actions of the Messiah to the ones that fit his expectations.  He is stunned by Jesus’ words and feels the need to deny them.  Maybe Jesus is just tired. 

            Jesus quickly rejects this vision.  Just as sharply as God regains the role of being in charge of his covenant with Abraham, Jesus declares that Peter’s version of the Messiah is contrary to God’s will.  “Be behind me, Satan!” ‘Don’t you start tempting me!’

            These two stories proclaim to us the stunning nature of God’s covenant, of God’s actions in redeeming creation.  Sometimes we are stunned by the blessings of good things; sometimes we are stunned by the commitment of God in Christ to undergo suffering and by the call we receive to follow Christ in such sufferings.  Grace and sacrifice are all a part of the covenant of God in Jesus Christ.   And if we are not stunned by the magnitude of both of these aspects of the Christian faith, we have not heard the gospel.

            Grace and sacrifice, as depicted in these stories, and as offered in the faith given to us through the Holy Spirit, are not contrasting but complementary features of the powerful God who reaches out to us in Jesus Christ, the God of creation, the God of the covenant, the God of prophets, and the God of the Incarnation.  For too many of us, these stories, and all the teachings of God, have become too familiar.  They no longer cause us to tremble with joy and anticipation.  They no longer cause us to gasp in wonder, or to fall to our knees seeking God’s help because we know that we cannot adequately respond to God’s call unless we are supported and directed by the Holy Spirit.  In seeming compassion for ourselves and others, we water down the expectations of Christ so that they are not overwhelming.

            This week I attended an overnight pastors retreat.  Our keynote speaker was theologian and Methodist Bishop, Will Willimon.  In one of his talks, Dr. Willimon told this story on himself.  After preaching a strong sermon on forgiveness, he was met at the door by a woman who was clearly agitated.  She asked him pointedly, whether Christ meant that she should forgive the husband who had repeated abused her and whom she had recently finally left.  Dr. Willimon admitted that he fumbled for a response.  He assured her that God did not mean for her to be abused.  His heart went out to this woman, and he said he was sure that God would understand her pain and difficulty in forgiving.  He somewhat hesitantly added, however, that Jesus did say to love your enemies, and certainly one who had abused you would be considered an enemy.  The woman apparently heard the answer she was seeking, for she told him, “Thank you. I was just checking,” before walking off.  Dr. Willimon said he had a sinking feeling after that.  It was God telling him that he had gotten it wrong.  He said, “God told me, you wanted to make her feel better.  I want to make her a saint.”  God was not sending the woman back for further abuse.  Forgiveness does not equal allowing sin to continue.  However, God was offering to fill her with the grace of forgiveness,  even – or perhaps especially – forgiveness that was clearly not deserved.  God was promising to make her holy, to sanctify her in the Holy Spirit.  This is God’s promise to us as well.

            God’s vision for us, for all creation, is so much more than we can envision on our own.  For God to accomplish what God has in mind, God must see us through difficult times and unexpected delays.  Yet in Christ we know that we have a God who has gone through all these difficult times and frustrations before us, and who accompanies us through them time and time again.  God not only hung on the cross in Jesus Christ, but God as God the Father also watched as the beloved Son was cruelly beaten and nailed to the cross.  Any parent will tell you that it is much more difficult to watch your child suffer than to suffer yourself. Yet this is God, who offers forgiveness for our sinfulness which made this made this method of revealing God’s love necessary.  God’s promise to us, God’s loving covenant  is truly amazing.   This revelation causes us to tremble – as we note how much God is willing to do for us, as we begin to glimpse the vision God has for all creation. 

            Friends, as we gather around the table of Holy Communion this morning, we see here the symbols of God’s grace, of God’s willingness to suffer and sacrifice so that we might live.  Let us not follow Peter in turning our backs on such sacrifice, declaring it to be unnecessary.  Let us confess our sinfulness, and humbly accept God’s unmerited invitation to approach the table under Christ’s righteousness and love.  Let us see here also God’s promise, the promise of new life, the promise of the feast of the heavenly banquet to come, when all peoples shall come together as one – one with one another and one with God.  The wait for that longed for day makes Abraham and Sarah’s wait seem like a day, but, just like the child for Abraham and Sarah, that day will come…because God has promised.  Let us stand, trembling, because God has graciously commanded us to participate in the bringing of that divine realm and God gives here the nourishment, the food of God’s own self, which gives us strength and courage to live as God’s own people, servants of the almighty and loving God.  God calls us to proclaim with confidence and hope the good news of Jesus Christ – to demonstrate God’s forgiveness and healing love in all we do, in ways which stretch us beyond what we think we can do and be. 

            God’s covenant is stunning, shocking, overwhelming, and holy.  Come, let us trust in this gift of God!

Resources:

Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 2, pp. 50-55

Willimon, Will, Talks at Presbytery of Baltimore, Pastors Gathering, March 1-2, Bon Secours, Marriottsville, MD.

 Sermon: Bridge of Hope – Covenant of the Rainbow

Preached:  February 26, 2012 at Grove Presbyterian Church

Scriptures:  Genesis 9:8-18, 1 Petr 3:18-22, Mark 1:9-15

            Today’s sermon is the first in a series on covenant that we will continue throughout the season of Lent.  It may help to begin with an understanding of what covenant is.  We often think of covenant as an agreement or contract, but within the context of the Scriptures covenant is something much more.  Covenant is a sacred commitment, a pledge.  In ancient times a covenant might be between nations or people. Even today we speak of covenants, especially when we speak of marriage.   However, we still sometimes lose the sense of the sacredness of the covenant.

Covenant is one of the key ways in which God has chosen to relate to creation, especially to humanity.  The covenants God makes with humanity reveal much about who God is, and how God wants to relate to us. Often covenants come with requirements – if you will behave in this way, then I will act in this way.  Occasionally, as in the covenant God gives to Noah in today’s reading, there are no strings attached – just a promise, a promise of how God will act.  That this is true of the covenant God gives to Noah  is all the more remarkable given what has just occurred in the history of humanity and God.

God had every reason to be upset with creation, and humanity in particular.  God had provided everything necessary for a harmonious and cooperative, positive creation.  Food and shelter, activity and companionship had all been provided for humanity to choose to live as the image of God – creative, loving, in partnership, and supportive of one another.

Yet humanity chose to live selfishly, deceitfully, hurting one another and ourselves.  God decided to start over, with the righteous Noah and his family as the remnant of humanity, and the pairs of unclean and clean animals as the basis for the rest of creation. 

Noah built the ark according to God’s instruction, and gathered the animals following God’s direction.  The rain fell, the floods rose.  After forty days and nights of rain, the rain finally stopped. But it was months and months before the inhabitants of the ark were able to step out of the ark and onto dry land again. 

Imagine that sensation!  Pictures in a recent article in the Smithsonian Magazine (Smithsonian Magazine, January 2012, pp. 42-43)  brought this image to life for me.  The top picture on the page shows Mount St. Helens two years after the volcanic eruption of 1980.  Everything is still grey with ash.  No life is seen.  The bottom picture on the page is of the same area, thirteen years later.  Bushes and grass even trees abound; greenery is everywhere.  Those of you who made multiple trips to the Gulf Coast after Katrina will have observed the same thing.  Where there appeared to be no life, now is covered with new life, new growth.   However, the first sight of such destruction does not offer much hope that there will be life again.

So, imagine stepping out of the ark, after months of seeing little but dark skies, and maybe, drenched landscape.  Imagine seeing no houses, no life of human or beast as you step onto the land just beginning to show signs of greenery.  Imagine seeing the emptiness before you, and hearing that God is telling you to go forth and multiply.

Righteous as Noah and his family were, you have to wonder if they questioned why.  Why should we go forth and multiply?  What if we sin?  Will God do this again? 

God knows their heart and hears their fear.  God tells them that this will be a new beginning in more than one way.  This time, God will acknowledge the limitations of creation and God will limit the divine self as well.  Without making a requirement that humanity and all creation remain righteous, God promises never again to flood the earth.  God chooses to continue to relate with creation – to teach, to lead, to comfort, to chastise, to restore – but not by exercising God’s holy and righteous anger through the destruction of all – even if the world deserves such destruction.  God sets aside the prerogative that is divinely God’s to create or destroy what God has made – in order to make a new and stronger loving relationship with humanity, and all creation.

Noah and his family have come through the flood to new life.  God also comes through the waters of the flood – holiness and righteousness intact, but with a new approach to the sinfulness of humanity.  No longer will God fight sinfulness solely from the power of righteousness, but now also through the power of grace and compassion.  God’s warrior’s bow will be retired and hung in the sky as a sign to God of this unilateral action, given in grace.  God is not defeated, nor is God compelled to hang up His bow.  God chooses, freely and righteously, to engage creation in a new way.

Likewise, Jesus arose from the waters of baptism in the Jordan, commissioned by the covenant God to reveal God’s holy and righteous presence through Christ’s flesh, one with God and one with humanity.  Immediately upon having this holy commission affirmed for the sake of others,  Jesus was driven by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan.  Once again, through Jesus’ rejection of Satan’s temptation, God affirms the covenant of the rainbow and follows through with the divine plan for redemption.

The waters of the flood, the waters of Christ’s baptism, the waters of our baptism – all lead to the divine new way of engaging creation, engaging humanity.  From the rainbow covenant of Noah and the baptism of Jesus the Christ, we learn how we are called through baptism to live as servants, ambassadors, and witnesses to the God of our salvation.  Though the world might appear to be hopeless, and is devastated with pain and suffering, we know that this is not the last word.  The God of righteousness came through the waters of the flood, no less clean or righteous and no less powerful than before the flood, but determined to reach out to humanity with the power of everlasting grace.  Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ came through the waters of baptism to receive the burden of our sins and the brokenness of creation.  Through the righteousness and holiness of God’s own spirit Jesus refused to succumb to the temptations of Satan to remove that burden by a display of divine power, a power that was Christ’s by right.  We are called to live into faithfulness, into the grace given to us, by embracing the humble path laid out by God, the path of setting aside our self-righteousness, setting aside our rights and prerogatives, and addressing the needs of others.

All Christians are called to this service.  Lent is an especially wonderful time for us to consider how well we are responding to God’s call, how often we are opening ourselves to God’s transformation, to God’s direction, to living as images of God.  We are also called to be open to new ways, unexpected ways, of living into this call. 

One way, which we will celebrate this morning, is to serve as church officers.  Leaders in the Presbyterian tradition receive a call from God to specific roles of leadership.   This call must be confirmed and recognized by the congregation.  Listening faithfully to God, our leadership are to follow God’s example of selfless love and wisdom.  Those called to the offices of Elder and Deacon are reminded that they serve under the authority of Servant Savior Jesus Christ.  The power of these offices comes from grace, as does the power of the rainbow. 

The rainbow is a sign to all of us of the wisdom and love of God.  It is a sign of God’s gracious limiting of God’s own power, a limit from mercy.  What was once a sign of sheer power, a warrior’s weapon, has been placed in the sky as a reminder and symbol of God’s righteous mercy and love.  What was once a symbol of dominant power has become a bridge of hope between God and all creation.

Let us all, church leadership and every member, walk in the light of that grace.  May all who encounter us, whether jointly as a congregation or individually in our daily lives, see and respond to the light of that divine rainbow, that all might find hope in times of darkness and fear, beautiful colors in times of joy and celebration, and a bridge of grace through the gift of Jesus Christ.