The Zechariah Syndrome

Luke 1

When Luke sat down to tell the story of Jesus he did not begin with a baby in Bethlehem. He did not begin with angels and shepherds. He did not even begin with the angel Gabriel and Mary. He began with John.
Or, more precisely, he began with the announcement of John’s birth. An angel was involved, as was John’s father Zechariah. He was a temple priest and he was doing his job when the angel appeared to him.
Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, are described by Luke as being righteous and blameless before the Lord. They were also barren. To Luke’s readers, steeped in the stories of the Old Testament, this circumstance would conjure up many names. There was Abraham’s wife, Sarah, who was barren until the day an angel announced she would bear a son, Isaac. Rachel, Jacob’s wife, was barren until the Lord opened her womb. Hannah, the mother of Samuel, was barren until her womb was opened. Hannah’s song of praise for this miraculous birth, which is found in 1 Samuel 1, is the basis for Mary’s similar song in Luke’s story.
In any event, here we are at the beginning of Luke’s story with an old story: an old childless couple going through the motions. But wait! Things are not as they should be! For as Zechariah is performing his priestly functions—not doubt while thinking about sports, or fishing, or that the garage needs to be cleaned—an angel of the Lord appears before him. There, in the church of all places, Zechariah gets a message from God. And Zechariah’s response is one of fear.
Now that might seem surprising to us. What could be more natural than angels in the temple? Where else would we expect to hear from God? And yet a quick survey of biblical stories suggests that Zechariah’s response is not all that unusual.
We have already heard about Abraham and Sarah—about how Sarah laughed out loud when the angel said she would have a baby. Luke ends his gospel with two disciples walking the dusty road to Emmaus and Jesus joins them and hears all about the ridiculousness of the empty tomb and the disciples do not recognize until later that they are walking with Jesus. Or in the book of Acts, how Peter is released from prison by an angel. When Peter arrives at the home of those praying for his release, the maid answers the door. “It’s Peter,” she says. And what is the response of those praying for Peter? “You must be crazy!”
What do all of these circumstances have in common? Each of these episodes takes place in the absence of great expectations. Zechariah, Sarah, the disciples, the prayer group—each of them has good intentions and no expectations. In addition to being people of low expectation, the folks in our example are also religious people. Abraham, the great patriarch, was called out of his homeland to be the chosen father of many nations. The disciples were followers of Jesus in his lifetime, just not in his new lifetime. Many were praying for Peter’s release, they just didn’t actually expect him to get out. But not everyone in Scripture is a religious unbeliever. And, interestingly, many whose witness is lifted up by Scripture are those not part of the “in” crowd. For example, there is a Roman Centurion who expects Jesus to heal his daughter without Jesus even going to his house. A Gentile woman asks Jesus to heal her child and is so insistent that she will not let Jesus go until he does. Another woman, an outsider and social reject with a twelve year health crisis, is so expectant that Jesus will heal her that she just touches his cloak without even speaking to Jesus at all. It is an interesting contrast: deeply religious people who have no expectation of God acting in their lives and fringe individuals who do not doubt for a minute that God will act in their lives.
Maybe one reason faith comes harder to the faithful is that we lived longer with the promises of the Gospel and the reality of the world. We hear the promises of God—the love of Jesus, the certainty of eternal life—but we also know that horrible things happen in the world. Greedy people seem to be rewarded. Despotic rulers make life miserable for their citizens. Disease strikes our loved ones. Lies and half-truths dominate our public discourse. So we, who spend our time worshipping, and reading the bible, and praying are forced from time to time to step back and ask, “is any of this worth it? Does any good come from this?”
I cannot help but wonder if Zechariah felt this way. After all, like many faithful Jews of his day, he was living under foreign occupation. This second Sunday in Advent is coincidental with Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights. Hanukkah commemorates the time of the Maccabean revolt against foreign rule and foreign religious practice. The Maccabees contested with the Greeks, The New Testament church with Rome. But the struggles were the same. Rome may have brought peace but little justice. Some faithful people were, understandably, defeated in spirit. They were left to go through the motions, to sing the old songs and say the old rote sayings, but their hearts had gone out of worship.
Last year at this time I had just returned from a conference sponsored by the Presbyterian Church Board of Pensions. The conference, known as CREDO, is designed for clergy in mid-career. There were 26 Presbyterian pastors in attendance of roughly the same age and from many different ministry contexts from around the nation. And I was struck by how many of the pastors identified one of their primary needs as recovering for themselves the belief that they were children of God. These pastors, who spent their time assuring others of the grace of God, had lost touch with grace themselves. They were like Zechariah, going through the motions, doing their duty, but without the grace, without the joy, coming to the point when an actual good word from the Lord would be more scary than comforting.
But the Zechariah Syndrome impacts more than pastors. It impacts all thoughtful Christians. We swim in the sea of tension between the good news and the real news and from time to time we all get worn down. So we need to revisit the story of Zechariah and make sure we derive from it the good news.
The angel of the Lord came and stood in the presence of Zechariah, having first stood in the presence of God. The angel told Zechariah that his prayer had been answered and that he and Elizabeth would have a child. Which prayer was answered? Zechariah’s personal prayer or the prayer Zechariah offered for the people? In the end it doesn’t matter, as both prayers are answered with this one gracious response. There will be a child and that child will be great. This great child will be the forerunner of an even greater child. Zechariah’s child will make a people prepared for the Lord. And this child will also be a real child of flesh and blood, one for Elizabeth to cradle and Zechariah to bounce on his knee. The personal prayer and the corporate prayer are brought together in the gracious act of God.
That Zechariah finds this hard to believe doesn’t matter to God’s purposes. God’s gracious activity, in the end, does not depend on our moods or our expectations. That the disciples did not believe Jesus was raised from the dead did not change the fact that he was. That those praying for Peter’s release did not believe he had been released did not change the fact that he had. You and I struggle with our faith from time to time but that doesn’t change the fact that God is at work in our lives and in our world for good.
Christmas is another reminder of this truth. Jesus was born into a dangerous world. Jesus was crucified by the dark forces of his day. But God raised Jesus from the dead as an eternal witness to the truth that God’s power for good is greater than the powers of sin and death. God’s purposes for us and for all of creation are sure and certain in spite of any evidence to the contrary. And our faith, which ebbs and flows like the tide, sustains us at high tide and at low tide we rely on the community of faith to carry us and do our believing for us. As James reminds the church in the other reading of this morning, we may have to wait upon the Lord. Be patient, James reminds the church, for as the seed germinates and grows according to nature’s schedule, so also must we be patient, patient and expectant. James offers the prophets as examples of patience in doubt, patience in expectation, and patience in suffering. Listen to one of those prophets, the prophet Jeremiah, as he speaks to God’s people in exile. “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” In all times God’s will is certain, God’s grace is sufficient, and the child born in Bethlehem came, not to condemn the world, but so for the world’s salvation.
After John is born and named, Zechariah breaks into song. We will sing a version of his song in a moment, but we should take note now of how Zechariah’s song begins and how it ends. The one who was afraid, who had low expectations, who found it hard to believe, he is the one who finds not only his voice but his faith and he is thus able to affirm “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them…to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Let us pray:
Gracious God we believe we are called to grow in our expectation of how you are acting in our lives. Help us to look, not only in this season, but daily for your presence in our lives. And help us to remember that we are called to be in relationship with each other, worshipping not just for ourselves, but for others. Grant that we always remember that we are a community, based on faith and love, and we need you and each other. Amen.

A Flood of Thanksgiving- November 21, 2010

2 Corinthians 9

In keeping with the spirit of the season let me begin by saying that we have a veritable cornucopia of topics to choose from this morning. Liturgically this is Christ the King Sunday, the last day in the Church's liturgical year. It is November, and that is often a time to bring our stewardship campaign to a close with some kind of festive hurrah sermon. And, naturally, it is the week of Thanksgiving.
How to decide? Well, Christ the King is liturgically interesting and important but can be a snoozer in the pews so it’s risky. As to Stewardship I can report that we have received 220 pledges totally $653,836.92. (as to the 92 cents, you are welcome). There is still time to get your pledge in and avoid a call from the Stewardship committee, although they are all quite pleasant to talk with.
So that leaves us with Thanksgiving. As I was moving into my office, and stuffing four file drawers full of my father's sermons (Do not worry, I do occasionally have an original thought), I was reminded of a particularly insightful Thanksgiving observation he made some many years ago, and I want to bring it forward to today, if I may, with embellishments.
Our text today also serves the dual purposes of Thanksgiving and Stewardship. It is here, in Paul's letter to the Corinthians, that we find the familiar assurance that “God loves a cheerful giver”. It is here that the apostle urges his friends to be generous towards the needs of others. But that is far from the whole story. There are two sides to every coin and to most texts. Between the lines, and upon them even, is that other side of stewardship: gratitude. It begins as a faint glow upon life’s horizon and then grows into a vast flood of thanksgiving.
Gratitude is such an important matter. It should be an ongoing habit and not just an annual tryptophan overdose. But this year as you prepare again to return thanks for the many blessings of your lives, I would ask that you consider as well the other side of Thanksgiving. And this is the provocative thought I received from my father many years back. The other side of Thanksgiving is this: All of the reasons that other people are thankful for you.
Now this might be a new thought for some. We have been trained by our upbringing and by many Christian expressions to think humility a great Christian virtue. We recall the parable Jesus told which concludes with the servant saying that he did only what he ought to have done. For far too many people, faith is really no more than a guilt trip. The freedom of the Gospel becomes the burden of the Gospel. The Christian life becomes a long list of obligations, where everyone else’s problems are more important than our own. But the Gospel is not this: the Gospel is less compulsion and more freedom. Our lives should reflect the wholeness and joy that is God’s plan for his human creation.
It is high time to say a word for a healthy self-respect that comes hand in hand with God’s grace. And thanksgiving is a way to do that. After you make that list of blessings, make that list of those who are blessed as a result of you. That is what Paul is talking about. He is urging the Corinthians to be generous to the earliest and most likely poorest of the churches… the church in Jerusalem. Paul reminds the Corinthians that gratitude will arise in the hearts of those who will receive this aid out of the Corinthian’s abundance, a gratitude that finds its fullest expression through gratitude towards God.
For God does his work through people. People like you and me. We are so used to hearing “acts of God” from insurance companies and lawyers who do not want to be held responsible for things. We can be led to believe that God acts only in strange and capricious ways which are, for the most part, unfortunate. But the witness of scripture shows us that God’s gracious work is incarnate through the life and deeds and caring of those whom God calls. Paul also tells the Corinthians this: We are the body of Christ, and individually members of it.
For a reason which will become clearer in a moment, allow me to quote my father on this idea of God answering prayers through people: When a despairing woman prays that her children not starve. And food is available because someone was moved to give an extra gift to famine relief, who can say that God has not answered that woman’s prayer. When a parent prays for a child who is heading for trouble, and a church or a youth worker touches that child’s live an opens a door to faith, who is to say that God has not answered that prayer?
Now this is hard to prove to a skeptic. There was a celebrated case once in Florida where a man sued his church because the pastor had promised that if he made a financial contribution to the church the Lord would bless him several times in return. And this did not happen, at least to the man's satisfaction. So the man sued the church for breach of promise. Don't try to prove this to a skeptic. But there remain powerful examples.
Our anthem this morning may not have sounded the traditional “thanksgiving” note, but it is a powerfully appropriate reminder of our theme. The composer, Kurt Bestor, once lived in the former Yugoslavia and, as that country descended into a hateful and bloody civil war, Bestor wrote the anthem as a lamentation. It is for the children that Bestor mourns most. This is why the anthem is called "Prayer of the Children". Can you hear the prayer of the children on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room? Empty eyes with no more tears to cry, turning heavenward, toward the light, crying, “Jesus, help me to see the morning light of one more day.” Can you hear the prayer of the children?
There was one organization that did. In 1997, while I was the pastor of the West End Presbyterian Church in Albany, New York, our session heard from a young woman whose family had relocated to Albany from war-torn Bosnia. For two years she, her husband, and their two small children lived in a refugee camp no more than two houses wide. Food, clothing, the basic necessities of life were scarce. Their country was at war. For two years they lived under these oppressive conditions until they received the opportunity to come to the United States. Their sponsorship was arranged through the refugee resettlement program, a Christian organization that sponsors refugee families and helps them secure housing, furniture, food, clothing, a new beginning. Her reaction, as was also the reaction of the other refugees aided by this organization, was one of disbelief. Why would strangers put themselves out so that she and her family might have their needs met. She was told it was done for love. This is hard for her to understand for, in her country, there is no love. Only hate.
For the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God. These are the blessings of giving. Needs are met and much thanksgiving is generated toward God. And those who have helped with refugee resettlement, or mission work overseas, or who have helped in a food kitchen or a homeless shelter, or who brought food to this church for the food bank drive or who delivered the food last Wednesday—this is the reward: A flood of thanksgiving. The satisfaction in knowing that God is glorified through the obedience to the Gospel of Christ.
Earlier I quoted from my father's sermon where he used, as an hypothetical example, a young teenager who may be on the wrong path in life but is brought back to faith by the word or caring of a church worker. This week the hypothetical became the actual in the form of a letter that fell from heaven onto my desk this week. The letter was written by a man in Pennsylvania, addressed to me here at the church. He wrote to me to tell me that he had recently quoted from one of my father's early sermons as part of a stewardship presentation at his church. The man had tried to locate my father, to thank him, and discovered that he had died this past summer. He wrote to me in part to offer his condolences. But he also offered this:
Your father was the single greatest influence on setting me on my life's path of faith. He was our pastor at Woods Memorial when I was 14-19 years old. His message, his faith, his encouragement, and his friendship changed my life from one of being a self-centered teen to being an inspired and faith-filled Christian. The gentleman enclosed the specific sermon from which he had quoted, a sermon my father preached in 1961, the subject of which was that which makes for true happiness. The letter continued:
I have kept this sermon in my bedside Bible for 49 years now. I tried unsuccessfully to locate your father a number of times to let him know how much he had helped me. In spite of not being able to do this, it gives me joy that I was able to locate you and pass my words of appreciation to you.
This man was never able to say thank you to my father. My father never heard of his gratitude. But the essential point is this: We have in our midst precious children—from cherubs to senior high students. And they are our charge, our responsibility for generating in them a deeper faith, a real belief in themselves and their intrinsic value, and for generating their thanksgivings to God. For the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God.
We are the body of Christ, and individually members of it. It is through the Church that Christ's work continues today. That is why Paul can assure the Corinthian Church that they will always be rich enough to be generous. We cannot demand abundance of material means as the prerequisite for a generous spirit. For generosity takes many forms--the material and the spiritual--and we never work out of our own limitations, but out of the abundance of grace and the unlimited resources that God places at the disposal of his Church.
As you celebrate Thanksgiving this week, by all means, express your gratitude. Express your gratitude for the privilege of living in this country with all of its resources and possibilities and freedoms. Express your gratitude for those members of the armed forces who will not be home at Thanksgiving out of their commitment to peace and freedom. Express your gratitude for your family and friends and a roof over your head and a plate before you on the table. But also take a moment to remember all of those who, by your generosity, will give their thanks to God. As you pray to your Heavenly Father, pause and listen... listen for the prayers of all, especially the children. And by God's grace and by his power in our lives we will be prepared to do far more by our faithfulness than we realize, to let our hearts and minds and feelings and thinking center upon and savor these words from Paul: For the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God. Through the testing of this ministry you glorify God by your obedience to the confession of the gospel of Christ and by the generosity of your sharing with them and with all others, while they long for you and pray for you because of the surpassing grace of God that he has given you. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! And what can we possibly say to this, but Amen, and Amen.
Let us pray:

Gracious God we give you our thanksgiving for the infinite blessings from which we benefit. We pray only that we may be such a benefit to others, to all in need, the young and the old, so that in this season and always, the obedience to your gospel will generate a vast flood of thanksgiving to heaven's ears. Amen.

Jesus at the SAT- November 14, 2010

Jesus and the SAT
November 14, 2010
James Hawley--First Presbyterian Church- Salina, Kansas


We need to start with a disclaimer. I am certain that one of my former math teachers is here this morning and I want to make it clear that she is not responsible for the following admission. I am not very good at math.

Once my daughter brought me her fifth grade math homework. The only problems she got wrong were the ones I helped her with. I am not very good at math.

I remember especially being terrorized by certain problems that were part of standardized testing, such as the ACT or SAT tests. These were the, so-called, story problems. Let me give you an example:
Billy has twelve sacks of groceries to deliver to five houses. If Billy leaves at noon and travels ten minutes to make his first delivery, and five minutes to make his second delivery, what time will he give up and go play pin-ball instead? (As an aside—this example is not solvable, so do not spend the next ten minutes trying to solve it)

These bad memories came back to me this week as I read again this confrontation between Jesus and the Sadducees. By way of context, this is the third such confrontation to which Jesus has been subjected since he entered Jerusalem near the end of his life. In the first place the scribes and Pharisees complained about his lack of authority to teach. In the second place the same combatants tried to trick him with the question about paying taxes to Caesar. This is the last of the challenges and, as Luke tells us, after this exchange no one dared ask Jesus anything else. But before we can get to that breath of fresh air we must first deal with this.

And it is a story problem that Jesus is confronted with. The Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection. So certain are they that there is no resurrection that they ask Jesus a question designed to show the absurdity of resurrection. According to Moses as recorded in the book of Deuteronomy, if a man dies childless his brother should take the widow into his home for the purposes of generating the next generation. So in the Sadducees’ scenario, there were seven brothers, but not seven brides—only one bride. And each brother married the one bride but failed to bring forth a son. The Sadducees are not interest in that part. They are simply pointing out that—like an endless hall of mirrors—these brothers followed one after the other in marrying this same woman so that in the—ahem—resurrection, there will be mass hysteria when they have to sort out whose wife she will be. You can almost hear the giggles and the snickering.

But Jesus does not snicker. He treats the matter with the utmost gravity. Without hesitation Jesus points out that this is an apples and oranges situation. Certainly in this age the seven married the same woman according to the Law of Moses. But in the age to come, the resurrection age, the same rules do not apply. In fact, what we know of the current age—our customs, our behaviors, our attitudes—will be irrelevant in the age to come. And that is a good thing. For in their place will be such wonders and glory as cannot be imagined in this lifetime. There will be angels and children of God—whatever and however that will be—in the reality of the resurrection life. Jesus is short on specifics, but his over-arching message is important and comforting: Do not judge the life to come by the life here and now. They are entirely different things and the resurrection life is much to be coveted.

The Sadducees were one “denomination” of 1st Century Judaism, the Pharisees being another. The Sadducees were among the better off in society and had a very limited view of scripture. So limited in fact that their Scripture did not extend beyond the first five books of the Hebrew canon. These books are known as the Pentateuch (Pente is five in Greek) or the Books of Moses, because tradition said that Moses wrote them. Not only did the Sadducees reduce their bible to this amount, they took a very strict and literal understanding away from it. They were literalists. As strict literalists, the Sadducees believed there was no choice but to do whatever Moses said to do. But like many strict literalists, they were also quite selective.

Their particular example comes from the book of Deuteronomy. This book, the fifth of the five Books of Moses, is one long oration by Moses (with the exception of his death which is narrated at the end. How Moses wrote that part we do not know, especially if there is no resurrection).

Now Deuteronomy contains many interesting rules and regulations from the mouth of Moses. For example, and this is important in the spring, “if you come upon a bird’s next, in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs, with the mother sitting on the fledglings or on the eggs, you shall not take the mother with the young. Let the mother go, taking only the young for yourself, in order that it may go well with you and you may live long.” Or this, which I think may apply to some who are here. “When you build a new house, you shall make a parapet for your roof; otherwise you might have bloodguilt on your house, if anyone should fall from it.” Or this one came up in my life this week. “You must not move your neighbor’s boundary marker, set up by former generations, on the property that will be allotted to you in the land that the Lord your God is giving you to possess. There is also a rule about forgiving all debt in the seventh year which is why we took out a six year mortgage.

Now do not misunderstand me. Rules are important. Rules are necessary. An established set of laws is the mark of a civilized society. My children have established very good rules and I do my best to follow them. The problem here is not entirely “the rules”. Jesus does not dispute the truth of the Sadducees claim that the seven brothers have an earthly duty. The problem here is a lack of vision. What we have here is more than a failure to communicate. We have a failure to dig more deeply and explore more broadly.

Or to put it another way—The Sadducees were only interested in the Law of Moses, but Jesus was interested in the story of Moses. Jesus’ response to the Sadducees is also taken from the Pentateuch. It comes from the book of Exodus. It is a reference to Moses standing before the burning bush and hearing the voice of God. The story of Moses begins where Exodus begins and extends for pretty much the rest of the book with a good thirty chapters or so devoted to a narrative of how Moses went from baby drifting in a basket on the Nile to VIP in Egypt to murderer and refugee to God’s chosen deliverer. This final promotion occurs at the burning bush where Moses not only receives is new assignment but also learns the name of God. God’s name is “I Am what I Am.” This is the burning bush that Jesus is talking about.

Out of the bush God invokes the lives of the patriarchs—Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Because God is the great “I Am” otherwise translated as the great “I Will Be”, to associate his name with the patriarchs is to list them among the living, not the dead. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are not dead and gone. They are a part of God’s salvation history. Therefore, there is resurrection and—what is more—this evidence which Jesus produces comes from the Sadducees own scripture.

Jesus point, and therefore ours, is this: We must be cautious of allowing our limited understanding of Scripture stand for the whole of Scripture. We must guard against thinking our interpretations are the same for everyone. This is especially risky when we pick and choose from among Biblical scriptures—especially ones pertaining to law and regulation. The vast witness of Scripture is not law and regulation. Story is far more pronounced and far more common. Think about it. The only, and I mean the only, witness to the life and teachings of Jesus Christ in the Bible comes in the form of a story, namely the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Story has so many advantages over rules and regulations. It is easy to take rules literally. Don’t run in the hall means don’t run in the hall. But in story we get something a little more complicated, and we should be grateful for that. Unlike rules—which are meaningless to us if they do not apply to us directly in the moment—stories intersect with our experience. Even if the stories we hear are not literally true—such as the Harry Potter novels, or the Chronicles of Narnia, or my seasonal favorite, A Christmas Carol. Although not literally true, they touch on the experiences which are so true—sometimes painfully true. Always redemptively true. Of young love, of competition, of courage and heroism, of coming of age, of the need for a wise mentor, of sacrifice and the ongoing struggle between good and evil. Are the stories of Jesus true? Of course they are. But think of all the stories Jesus himself told. Was there really a prodigal son? Was there really a Samaritan who helped a wounded man on the road? Does it matter? Jesus told these stories to illustrate the rules, to give flesh to them, to make the rules real and human. And the Gospel writers told stories about Jesus for the same purpose—so that Jesus would be understood not as the ultimate hall monitor, but the Word of God, full of grace and truth.

These stories of the Bible, and particularly of Jesus, are meant to illustrate, not whether it is acceptable to remove the boundary marker on a piece of property—but the greatest rule of all—the rule of love. Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and with all of your soul, and with all of your mind, and with all of your strength. And love your neighbor as yourself. And by the way, although the Sadducees may not have paid attention to them, these commandments come from the Pentateuch as well.

Let us pray:
God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—we thank you for the stories that feed our life of faith. Help us to see beyond the rules to the love that lies behind, the love you have shown us in Jesus Christ, our Lord, whose story is the greatest ever told. We pray in his name. Amen.

First Words-- November 7, 2010

Genesis 1:1-5; Mark 1:14-15

First words are critically important. They can be sentimental, as in the first words spoken by our children. I remember clearly Jamie looking at a stuffed cat Amy had sewn for Halloween. She pointed and said, “Cat”. And if I remember correctly, Aaron’s first words were “trust fund”.

First words are so important when we meet someone or, when we are young, those first words spoken to someone who has captured our heart. For those high school boys present, here is some unsolicited advice. When you see a girl at the dance and you want to make a good impression, do not approach her and ask “whose your dermatologist?” Well, at least it didn’t work for me.

We have just completed important elections and that reminds us of how important first words are in the public forum. When a candidate first announces a campaign, when a candidate makes an acceptance speech, whenever a public figure appears for the first time in a new capacity, those first words are so important. They suggest the tone, the direction, the vision. These first words are designed to reassure the audience of the hopes and dreams they are looking for. First words set the stage for all that follows.

These are my first words. I know that I was here in September for my candidate sermon but that doesn’t count. That was like the pilot episode for a new series. It doesn’t win any Emmys… you just hope to sell the series. So this is the real first time and these are my real first words and I hope not to fumble it.

So as I thought about today, about this first sermon, it occurred to me that the best model for such a thing would, or course, come from the bible. Now the most famous first words are these words from Genesis, the first book in the bible. In the Beginning. In the beginning, at the time when God began to create the heavens and the earth, there was only darkness. But God said, “Let there be light.” We should not let this moment pass without acknowledging not only that God is the creative force of the universe but how specifically that creation happens. God speaks creation into being. God speaks light into the darkness and speaks form into the void. Language is at the heart of God’s creation. Speech is the powerful creative force.

Therefore we do not take for granted the power of our words. Our words are powerful—they create joy and they create sorrow. They create hope and they create despair. This is why not only words are important, but first words especially important. There is silence, darkness, a void at the advent of creation as God’s first word is formed. And that first word is light. Before anything, there is light.

Which leads us to this question: what were Jesus’ first words? Not his first words as a child for we are not told this so we have no way of knowing. Matthew, Mark, and Luke offer us accounts of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness at which time Jesus speaks with Satan, but this is a private conversation. Jesus is baptized by John and some words are exchanged, but again, this is private. These words are not intended for public consumption. So what are Jesus’ first public words, his first official words, the first words that will set the tone and purpose of his life and mission?

The four gospels offer slightly different accounts. John chooses to begin his story of Jesus’ public life not with words but actions. Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding and therefore “revealed his glory”. In Luke’s gospel Jesus first public appearance is in his home synagogue and he reads from the prophet Isaiah—“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.” Matthew and Mark reduce this somewhat to this basic statement—Jesus first words to the waiting world—“The time has come. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Change your lives and hearts and receive this good news.”

Jesus has established his priority. These are his all important “first words”. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Join it. Over the course of his ministry Jesus, of course, has much more to say. He teaches and preaches, heals and reveals. But everything that is recorded about Jesus’ public ministry ultimately comes back to these first words—the Kingdom of God is at hand. Make the changes necessary to be a part of God’s New Creation.

Now you are a perceptive lot, to be sure, and you have no doubt noticed that I have avoided using the word “repent”, which appears in our text. To repent is not a bad thing nor is the word a bad translation. But it can be misleading or, perhaps, distracting. Repentance is commonly associated with feeling sorry. When we repent, we regret, we are sorry, we say we were wrong. There is some guilt associated with the need for “repentance. The need for forgiveness accompanies the need for repentance. But in these first words of Jesus there is no talk of forgiveness, only “repentance”. But the word here translated as repent has a more comprehensive meaning. Jesus is stating that a “re-orientation” is in order. A “re-tooling” if you will. For the Kingdom of God is so different in its emphasis and its priorities from the society into which Jesus came that it was simply not possible to live in both simultaneously.

Let us say you were invited to play a game. So you went home and put on your football helmet and your shoulder pads and your knee pads and put that black stuff under your eyes and come running back with your football. And when you got there you discovered that it was a baseball game. Now, would you feel you had to apologize for how you were dressed? No. But would you have to do something different in order to play in the baseball game? Yes. You would have to shed one set of equipment and replace it with another more suited to the game. This is what Jesus is saying with his first words. The game has changed. You are no longer dressed appropriately. Go home and change. Join the game.

Now I will grant you that, in my illustration, if you plowed over the short stop and the second baseman on your way into right field where you spiked your ball and declared a touchdown, you would have much to answer for. And as time goes on and the gospel unfolds, there are many whom Jesus meets who refuse to join the game. Repentance as regret is not irrelevant, and forgiveness is a hallmark of the new “game” Jesus is bringing. But the point is this: Jesus only has one chance to make a first impression. And that first impression, as Mark and Matthew tell it anyway, is this: The time of the Kingdom of God is at hand. Make a choice. Hear the good news. Be part of God’s new creation.

As these are my “first words”, my first public statement as your Lead Pastor, I am happy to rely on these great models. In fact, I should rely on them, for what is our task if it is not Jesus’ task? What is our orientation to the world if not the orientation God directs us toward? What are our words if they are not Jesus’ words? What we are about here, at the First Presbyterian Church Salina, is the Kingdom of God. We are interested in changing hearts and lives and in having our hearts and lives constantly renewed for God’s good purposes.

Now first words are not last words. Jesus proclaimed the Kingdom of God but took several chapters of Gospel to flesh out what the Kingdom of God is. And I use the phrase, flesh out, deliberately. In the beginning when God spoke the first words of creation, he called for light. In the Gospel of John this same set of "first words" are employed, but with a different emphasis. In the beginning was the Word. And the word became flesh and dwelt among us full of grace and truth. What was in this word that become flesh was light. That light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

In the beginning God said let there be light. In the beginning was the Word, the Word that became flesh. The Word that was the light. Isn’t that fabulous? The connection? The continuity? God spoke creation into being. And Jesus, himself, is the spoken word of God, what Paul calls the New Creation In the beginning God called for light. God brought the light—Jesus Christ—to lighten the darkness. Words. First Words. Words becoming flesh. Words to bring light in the darkness.

We are to use our words to bring light, to shed light, to be the light and participate in the Kingdom of God in all of its splendor and wonder. The time is at hand. The Kingdom of God has come near. Change your hearts and lives and believe in this good news. Or, said more simply. Let there be light.

Let us pray:
We thank you, Lord, for your Word, Jesus Christ. For the kingdom he came to proclaim. For your Holy Spirit which breathes in us your grace and peace. Grant that we may set our course together to fulfill your will, be a light to others, and to build up the body of Christ for your dear sake as ours. Amen.

Meditation for World Communion Sunday

Luke 17:5-10

When I first read our Gospel reading this week my first response was, “there has to be something better than this.” After all, it is World Communion Sunday and this is not very Communion like. The temptation was strong to saunter over to the Gospel of John and Jesus words about the true vine, or perhaps simply read from the Last Supper.

But the Lectionary exists for a reason, or reasons, and one of them is to bring out attention to bear on passages of Scripture we would just as soon leave alone. Here Jesus appears to be comparing the disciples to slaves of the master who have no right to claim preference but must, in fact, wait like the family dog to eat last and to acknowledge that all of the hard work and effort is not worthy of praise but, rather, is nothing more than duty. There is no “thank you” here for the all the effort. No “well done, good and faithful servant,” like we read elsewhere. We all like praise and there are not many of us, this side of Mr. Spock, who say “why do you thank me? I merely do my duty.”

This perplexing saying comes at the end of a series of four sayings, only two of which we read this morning. Luke 17:1-10 forms a unit of sayings, the first two have to do with not being the cause of stumbling for new converts to the faith. The second concerns forgiving the penitent. These sayings sufficiently frighten the disciples who believe themselves incapable of living up to this expectation. So they, understandably, ask Jesus to “increase their faith”.

This is something we all tend to do. When confronted with what seems a taunting task, we put the responsibility back on the one presenting the challenge. I remember when Amy Jo and I were considering relocating in 1999. We were reading Church Information Forms. A great many of them would spell out the difficulties and challenges of their current ministries and then they would say, “We need a minister who will motivate us to get to work.” They were saying, as the disciples were saying, “increase our faith.” Children, while in the process of learning to responsible, often do the same thing. When confronted with a task or a home chore, they will respond that the parent has somehow been deficient in the transaction. How can I clean my room when you haven’t….. I can’t take out the trash because the you never brought the bin back from the street.

The disciples say to Jesus, increase our faith. How can we be expected to be responsible to the calling of the Kingdom of God as we are? If you want us to do all these things then you have to make it possible for us. Jesus responds to the disciples in this way: “If you had the faith the size of a mustard seed, you could uproot a tree.” In the Greek language there are two uses of this phrase. One reflects a condition contrary to fact: “If you were a bird”. The other reflects a condition according to fact: If Jesus is Lord. This usage is the second usage. In other words, Jesus says If you have the faith of a mustard seed (and you do)…. The problem, therefore, is not that the disciples lack the necessary faith. The problem seems to be that the disciples do not accept responsibility for the faith that they have and the work they are called to do.

Having said that, it provides some perspective on the last of Jesus’ four sayings here presented. When I first read it I was not sure it was a good choice for World Communion Sunday. It seems a bit nasty. After all, we come to the table because we have been invited by our Lord. And here in this parable the opposite is the case. The slave is not invited first but, rather, must prepare supper for the master and eat later with the family dog. But as with all of Jesus’ sayings, this parable as a specific purpose and it is related to the question of responsibility. Our faith is sufficient—we have our orders—get on with it. In the same manner that we want to deflect responsibility to others, so also we want reward for doing what is basic human responsibility. First we do not want to do what is ask of us. And if we do, we want to be lifted up as special for having done it. Jesus is telling the disciples and us that the Kingdom of God is not going to work that way. What we need we have been given. Faith. Grace. Forgiveness. What we need to do has been shown to us. Take what we have been given, do the work for the kingdom of God and all will be well.

And even though we are invited to this table by our Lord, we are not the first to eat of it. As Jesus asks his disciples in another setting, can you drink from the cup from which I drink? It is because Jesus goes before us that we are able to sit at this table. It is because Jesus is the bread of life and the cup of salvation that this sacrament has meaning. We do come in response to Christ’s invitation—filled with sufficient faith—and having been filled with spiritual nourishment—are returned for our work in the Kingdom of God.

If we have the faith of a mustard seed. We do. Then we can do whatever the Kingdom requires. And we should. And then we eat. Only not as worthless slaves. We come together as children in the family of God.

Buying Hope in a Down Market

Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15

1 Timothy 6:6-19

We have all heard a lot about the economy, the housing market, no jobs. In some cases we have heard more than we want, in other cases we don’t feel enough is being done. But I am sure that the residents of Judah in 588 BCE would say quit your griping. You see, they had bigger problems. The city of Jerusalem was surrounded by a huge army under the command of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon. And they were breathing fire and had murder in their eyes.

This was not the first time King N had come Judah’s way. After the death of Josiah, one of Judah’s few good kings, Egypt took charge of the region and held Judah as a vassal state. But there was a new bully on the block, and its name was Babylon. When it appeared that Babylon might conquer Egypt, the king of Judah sided with Babylon. The forces of Egypt and Babylon met on the battle field and the result was inconclusive, although both sides suffered heavy losses. Each went home, licking its wounds. In the period of relative calm, Judah tried to reassert its independence. Although Egypt was a worthy foe, Babylon had no regard for Judah’s bit of arrogance and decided to take a victory where it could. So the Babylonian army surrounded Jerusalem, this time dedicated to teach Judah one full and final lesson. No longer satisfied with tribute, Nebuchadnezzar was intent on razing Jerusalem to the ground.

The prophet Jeremiah had seen this coming for a long time. He spent a considerable amount of time in the presence of the king with a simple question: Where is God in all of this? Jeremiah denounced the worldly politics of the monarchy. Why make alliances with Egypt, Babylon, or anyone else? We have made an alliance with God. We are God’s people!Trust and hope in the Lord God! Isaiah had tried the same advice in his day with similar results. No one listened. No one cared. In fact, Jeremiah made such a pest of himself that he was imprisoned. And now his words of wisdom suddenly sounded wiser than before. The armies of Babylon raged, and God was silent. The end had come.

It is at this point that we join our reading for this morning. Jeremiah is in prison, the city is collapsing around him. Here is the chance for him to say, “I told you so!” Here he might derive some satisfaction from circumstances that vindicate his claim that God alone is worthy of loyalty and covenant. But Jeremiah receives a different word from the Lord. The Lord tells him to buy real estate.

It is truly a credit to Jeremiah that he did not go all Job on God and ask what kind of help that was? True, the city was certainly about to become a buyer’s market, but unfortunately there was not going to be anything left to buy.Except land. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremiah that his cousin would be along in a little bit with an offer to let Jeremiah redeem some land, which was his by law to redeem.

Not only does Jeremiah decide to buy the land, but we are told that he made a very public display of it. He had witnesses. Baruch was told to talk it up.The deeds were placed in an earthenware jar—much like the jars in which the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, which tells you something of their capacity to preserve—for the Lord of Hosts says that “houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”

That is really quite a proclamation. No wonder most people thought prophets were simply mad. What could be crazier than a man in prison buying a field in a land about to be devastated by the enemy? Clearly Jeremiah is out of his mind, so we might as well dismiss everything else he says at the same time.

But to approach Jeremiah’s action this way is to miss the point of his witness. For Jeremiah was not buying land. He was buying hope. Jeremiah had run out of warnings. The time had passed for action rooted in faith. The fall of Jerusalem was irreversible. The collapse of the temple was inescapable. The time had come for an even more amazing prophecy than the doom of the people. The Word of the Lord was a Word of hope. This calamity, as horrific as it was, would not be the last word.

It was also a way in which Jeremiah could make essentially the same point as the one he tried to make before the siege began. God is not the temple.God is not the King’s palace. God is not the well being of the land and the wealth of the establishment. God is God and we are God’s people. When the buildings are gone, when the wealth is destroyed, when the temple is razed and when the King’s palace is in ruin—God is still God. And the people are still God’s people. This relationship cannot be severed by the enemy. Only our earthly treasures we cling to can be destroyed by the enemy. Our relationship with God is a relationship. When the smoke clears and the enemy withdraws, the relationship will be there still. And land and houses and vineyards will again by bought in the land. This is the nature of Christian hope.

And I say Christian hope because Jeremiah’s understanding is brought into the New Testament through Jesus, Paul, and other New Testament texts.According to the theologians who interpreted the fall of Judah, the calamity was brought on by the failure of the leaders of the land to place the covenant with God above other concerns. These other concerns had much to do with their own acquisition of and display of wealth and power. In order to acquire wealth and power, it was necessary to disregard the needs of many people of the land. For example, the ruling King of Judah at the time of the city’s destruction tore down his father’s palace to big an even bigger one, and he used forced slavery to build it.

The relationship of wealth to God flows throughout the New Testament.Jesus talks about money more than any other subject. James warns the church about placing more concern on placating the rich than caring for the poor. Paul brings the matter up repeatedly, including this passage from 1 Timothy. Its hard to find a more plainly stated example than this: But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. We are hard pressed to find a better summation of our current times than this. But this observation is merely the diagnosis, not the cure. The cure is found in these words: pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness.The implication is clear: pursuit of such things as these will not lead to success by the standards of the material and wealth hungry world. So what success follows such behavior? The blessing of living in right relationship with God, who will provide everything for our enjoyment.

This passage contains one of the most familiar but misquoted verses in the New Testament. Paul writes to Timothy that the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. This observation is commonly misread as "money is the root of all evil". But this is not what Paul says. Paul says the love of money is the root. Money itself is not the problem. Consider how this passage ends. The rich are commanded not to liquidate their assets, but to but them to good use.They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous and ready to share.I know of no pastors who do not wish for a church full of generous, sharing, rich people.

Set your hope, Paul says, on God who provides for our needs and not in the uncertainty of riches. Jeremiah was saying the same thing, only with his public real estate transaction rather than with words. The point is the same—true hope is hope in God and of God’s relationship and promises to us, not in the acquisition of money and material wealth.

This is not to say that wealth is evil. It is a question of orientation. Warren Buffet and Bill Gates are the great philanthropists of this generation.Facebook founder Mark Zuckerman gave 100 million dollars to New Jersey Schools. Some believe this was an act to counter the negative impression the recently released movie may create…but I think most teachers around here would not worry about that if they could have education enhanced in this way. And speaking of movies, Gordon Gecko is back on Wall Street. I know very little about the new movie but many of us remember the iconic comment from the Wall Street movie from the 1980s--- Greed is Good. This attitude is alive and well today and responsible for many of the economic hardships of our day.

Hope is not anti-wealth, it is anti-greed. Wealth can be a spiritual gift like any other and, like all spiritual gifts, is meant not for personal gain but for the up-building of the community. After all, you cannot buy houses and land and vineyards with assets. Jeremiah is not advocating homelessness. He is advocating a relationship rooted in God, faithful to God, solely reliant on God.Paul and Jeremiah together are encouraging us to let this hope be the foundation of our future, and to take hold of the life that really is life.

On the Dangers of Giving Bibles to Children

Luke 14: 1, 7-14

It is the sacred calling of the preacher to crack the hard shell of Scripture so that the people may feast upon its meat.

Well, maybe that is not quite the way to put it. But it is true that the preacher’s primary job is to open up texts from scripture for the congregation. The preacher is to make the Bible “relevant” or “applicable” to the flock. But in so doing the preacher seldom talks about the Bible itself. The Bible as an object of study seems more appropriate to—well, Bible study. Rather, we hear short snippets from one or more of the Bible’s sixty-six books each Sunday. The end result is much like attempting to understand a quilt but looking each week at one of the squares. If we have a good memory we can get an idea of what the whole might look like. Otherwise we simply admire a given square.

Today we shall depart from this model, somewhat, and spend some time thinking about the Bible as a whole. More specifically, we will reflect on how the Scripture plays an important role in Scripture itself, and how we might understand the role of Scripture in our faith lives. And the occasion for this scrutiny is the presentation of Bibles to our third-graders. Now these are real Bibles we are handing out. These are not Children’s Bibles or abridged New Testaments. This is the whole Word, the whole nut, if you like. And if you are going to hand the whole nut to third-graders, you had better be ready with a nut-cracker. Or, to be less metaphoric, if we are going to give Bibles to children we had best be prepared to help them understand it.

I am reminded of the story in Acts where Phillip comes across an Ethiopian reading the prophet Isaiah. He is reading this passage—“As a sheep led to the slaughter of a lamb before its shearer is dumb, so he opens is mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him.” Phillip wants to know if the Ethiopian understands what he is reading. “How can I," he replies, "without someone to help me?”

And this is the position our children are in. How can they understand what they are reading without someone to help them? And guess who that someone is? It is you—parents, grandparents, LOGOS teachers, adult guardians of our children’s spiritual life. And yes, the pastors. But the statement, “ask the pastors that question” is not a good long-term solution, and it sends the message that only “religious professionals” interpret the Bible. This is an idea the reformers fought against.

Because that used to be the way it was. In the days before the Protestant Reformation the Church controlled the Scriptures. The language of scripture was Latin which the average Christian could not read. Because the average Christian good not read the Bible, the Church told them what the Bible said---selectively, of course. Before the Reformation there were those who wanted the Bible released from captivity—translated to common languages and read by many. But the Church resisted this demand. The parallel occurrence of the Protestant Reformation and the invention of the printing press eventually put the Bible in the hands of people. But still there was a problem. The people could read it, but what did it mean?

So here is our conundrum. The Bible should be read by everyone, but the Bible is not easy to understand. So we need religious professionals—theologians, Bible Scholars, educated pastors—to help us understand. But these people, helpful though they are, should not decide for us. So in the end the reading and understanding of Scripture is a collaborative effort, a communal effort. It is enhanced by those educated in the ways of interpretation. It is enhanced by the freshness and honesty brought to the text by the practicing Christian.

So today we welcome these third-graders to the community of Bible readers. It is a new adventure for them. But it is a serious matter, giving Bibles to children. Because they might actually read it. And as they grow in the faith, as they gain more and more life experience, as they thoughtfully apply the Scripture to their lives, amazing things might start to happen. This is what happened to Jesus, according to Luke’s story.

Luke tells us that Jesus started his bible study as a young man. Not as a third-grader, more of a middle-schooler. But there he was, in the temple, at age 12, engaged in a give and take with the teachers who were very impressed by him.

The next thing Luke tells us is that the 12 year old Jesus has grown into a 30 year old Jesus and he is back in the Synagogue, only this time in his home town of Nazareth. Jesus reads the prophet Isaiah to the gathering and they are pleased with him. But then Jesus goes on to talk of another part of Scripture—the story from the book of Kings when the prophets of Israel bring their curative power to people outside of Israel. This so enrages the people that they attempt to throw Jesus off the cliff. I hope, when our third graders come back in twenty years with their biblical insights we give them a warmer reception. But the point is this: when we become immersed in the Bible we discover that a lot of people who say they are Bible people really don’t have any idea what is in it—or simply have chosen to ignore a vast amount of what is in it. This tends to lead to uncomfortable situations.

Like in today’s text. Jesus is invited to eat at the home of the leader of the Pharisees. Now the Pharisees were experts in the law. They knew their Scripture. And how much more so should a leader of the Pharisees know the Scripture. So Jesus is startled, perhaps (then again, probably not as this is not his first Pharisee dinner) to see everyone jockeying for the places of honor at the dinner. The advice that Jesus gives is not simply practical, it is Scripture. Proverbs 25. “Do not put yourself forward in the king’s presence or stand in the place that is great; for it is better to be told, “Come up here,” than to be put lower in the presence of the prince.”

So Jesus is not simply suggesting a way to avoid embarrassment. Jesus is confronting the religious leaders with their own Scripture, the command to be humble and not seek honor for oneself. And then Jesus tells them another parable, this one about inviting the poor and the lame, the blind and the crippled. This, too, is a summary of Scripture. It is, in fact, similar to the scripture that Jesus read to the home folks that nearly go him killed. For Isaiah says that the good news is to be preached to the poor, the blind, those who are oppressed. Jesus is reminding the Pharisees, again, of what their Scriptures teach. You see, Jesus was not irritating because he had all these radical new ideas, he was irritating because he confronting the privileged with their own Scripture, with the Bible they claimed to know, follow and protect.

Not that the Pharisees gave in easily—or at all. They had a pretty good idea themselves what Scripture was about. Much like the people back in Jesus’ home church who presumed to know more about the Bible then Jesus did. And today we find the same debates, the same competing claims. Whether or not the Pharisees were correct in their interpretations, they possessed the power to enforce them. Which is why Jesus was crucified. But Jesus was also raised from the dead by the glory and power of God. So if we are deadlocked between Jesus’ understanding of the Bible and the Pharisees' understanding of the Bible, I would say the resurrection is a tie-breaker.

What is more, if we help our children with their Bible discoveries we may find we are discovering things for ourselves. And that can be very helpful when the conversation turns to what is "Christian" and not "Christian" in our media. If we have a Bible, but do not read our Bible, then we are likely to be convinced by whomever speaks the firmest, or whose other viewpoints we like. Without our own immersion in Scripture, how can we tell the phonies from the real thing?

Yes, it can be dangerous to give Bibles to children. They might read it. What is more, as they come to understand it, in its marvelous mosaic, they will be shaped by it. They might be inspired to ask a lot of questions about it, make it the center piece of their lives. Then they might grow up in the Spirit of the Lord and become preachers. And what if those third graders, now all grown up, came back with the Good News of the Gospel—good news for the poor, the lame, the crippled, the socially disadvantaged. What if those young kids grew up to become leaders in communities fighting for social justice, and equality, and love and fairness and all those things which today compete with the powers that be who defend the status quo? Would we, who gave them this Bible in the first place, listen to them?

Yes, giving Bibles to children is a dangerous thing. But it is also a hopeful thing, an exciting thing, a faithful thing. But do not leave them to go it alone. Go with them. Read it to them and with them. Read it on your own. Don't settle for Bible-Believing. Be Bible knowledgeable.

Sermon for July 25, 2010

The Question Within the Question
Rev. James Hawley 7/25/2010

Luke 11:1-13

Which of you, when asked one question, listen for another?

It happens often with children. They ask many questions, questions like “what happens when a meteor comes through the roof?” Or, “If an alligator came into the dining room could we keep it?” Or maybe they wonder what happens if the sun fails to rise one day or how far it is to McCook if you have to walk. Whatever the case may be, often we are asked questions that have answers, but the answer is not really the point. The alligator question might just be natural curiosity, or it may reflect a yearning for a pet of some kind. The meteor question is easy to answer, but the real issue may be a sense of insecurity around the forces of nature. The question about McCook may have something to do with the loud crash you heard a short time ago. Whatever it is, however, the immediate question is seldom at the heart of the matter. What is really at issue is the question within the question.

The disciples watched Jesus pray. Watching Jesus pray must be like watching Phil Mickelson play golf or Arthur Rubinstein play the piano. The Carly Simon song comes to mind. Nobody Does it Better. So the disciples are understandably in awe of Jesus and his relationship with God. The text does not tell us—was Jesus praying aloud? If so, were the disciples in earshot? Or was he in silent prayer? An interesting question, I think, which the scripture does not answer. But the fact that the disciples then asked Jesus to “teach them to pray” as John taught his disciples suggests that they were not able simply to mimic Jesus’ prayers. They wanted lessons. Advice. And Jesus answers their request directly.

The “Lord’s Prayer”, as tradition has termed it, can be found in two places in the Bible. Here and as part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew. The text is different in each of these places and neither is the text that we commonly recite in church. Matthew is the closest, in the Revised Standard Version, but it lacks the doxology—“for Thine is the Kingdom and the Power of the Glory forever.” Luke’s version is a bit more spare.

There are essentially five petitions in Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer and, in keeping with Luke’s interest in linking both the former and the newer covenants together, the prayer can be understood as a distillation of the Ten Commandments. The five petitions are: 1) The holiness of God’s name. 2) the primacy of God’s kingdom. 3) The dependency of the creation on the creator 4) the necessity of forgiveness 5) the necessity of recognizing evil and steering clear of it. The first three petitions bring to mind the first four commandments and their emphasis on the absoluteness of God and the need to not have other gods or to take the Lord’s name in vain. The remaining petitions invoke the various “thou shalt nots” of the commandments. Essentially, forgiveness is the foundation of the community and the various “evils” which are itemized in the Old Testament are here lumped together as “Temptation” and “evil” which God shall help us to avoid. As Jesus’ followers were all Jews, at this point in the story, we may safely assume that there is nothing new here. No ground breaking insight. The prayer simply reiterates to Jesus’ followers the Jewish law in which they have been living all along.

But most of this Lukan text is not concerned with the prayer itself. It is concerned with the extended story about the neighbors. Therefore, we may conclude that Jesus’ principle interest is not in the words of the prayer itself, but in the question within the question that the disciples ask. This is a common practice for Jesus in Luke as we have seen. Jesus’ stories are not generally designed to introduce a new idea into people’s heads. Jesus’ stories draw out of people the things they already know to be true but may have conveniently forgotten. The young ruler knows the greatest commandment. The Pharisee is able to identify who was neighbor to the beaten man. Simon the Pharisee understands which debtor would be more loving. So perhaps the disciples already know how to pray, if by that we mean they can open their mouths and words will come out. What they may not know is whether their prayers are worth anything. They know how to pray, but they do not know what prayers work. What, they ultimately want to know, must they do to get God’s attention? I imagine a scene in which the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray, he answers with this prayer, and then goes back to his book or whatever he is doing. I see the disciples standing around, looking each other, kicking the dirt. “Jesus,” they say. “So…that’s it then? That will do it?” They are asking Jesus how to pray because they are afraid that their prayers are not any good. They are afraid that God does not hear their prayers. They are afraid of what will happen to them if they pray poorly. Under it all, the disciples are afraid that God may not actually care about them.

So Jesus tells them a story about a grumpy old man who has gone to bed and does not want to be bothered. With this character I can totally relate. But he is bothered—he is bothered by a neighbor who needs some food. The neighbor does not exactly say I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down, but he does persist. And so, just to get rid of him, the neighbor gets out of bed and gives the man what he is asking for.

As Amy Jo talked about two weeks ago with the story of the Good Samaritan, it was quite popular in the early centuries of the Church to allegorize Jesus’ stories. An allegory is a story within which the characters and events have a one to one relationship with real life counterparts. Have you read “Pilgrim’s Progress” by John Bunyan? This story was written in 1678 and is an allegory of the Christian’s life (The main character is named “Christian”) through hardship and peril to end finally at eternity. Perhaps the most famous allegory is one that the Greek philosopher Plato tells in his dialogue The Republic. It is called the allegory of the cave. Plato tells the story of persons chained in a cave unable to see anything but shadows of things passing by behind them. A light casts the shadows. As the people in the cave know no better, they presume the shadows are real when they are, of course, just shadows. Plato uses this story as an allegory to make the point that the people of Athens also confuse their knowledge (shadows) with what is real (Truth and Philosophy and things Plato likes). Now you don’t need to understand any of that I hope to see what allegory is. An allegory is story in which the characters and events are intended to represent actual real world people or events.

And Jesus did tell an allegory or two. At least the evangelists treat some of his stories as allegories. But mostly Jesus told parables, and parables are different from allegories. A parable is more slippery. In a parable, unlike an allegory, the target seems to be always moving. They are hard to pin down, hard to exhaust. Parables certainly are meant to illustrate ideas, ethics, morals. But they are often open ended, inviting us to enter into them in many ways and at different times. The story of the Prodigal Son is a common example. Sometimes when we hear that story we think we are like the father, other times the younger son, and other times the behavior of the older brother reminds us of our own feelings. Or the story of the Good Samaritan. There are times when we relate to the priest or Levite. Other times we feel like the victim on the road. Heaven forbid we not relate to the robbers, and at our best we resonate with the Samaritan. The point is this: with a parable there can never be a direct one to one relationship between the story and the world because the story and the world are too ambiguous to permit that.

The reason I descended into that discussion was to point out the risk of making an allegory out of this story. For if we do, we will understand God to be a grouchy old man who answers prayer to get rid of us. Now that is not what Jesus had in mind. Jesus’ story works instead by contrasting two things. Two things which are not at all alike. His point, ultimately is this: If grumpy old men get out of bed and give the neighbor what he is asking for---then how can you doubt that God---who is the opposite of the grumpy old man—will not care for you?

In a couple of weeks the lectionary has scheduled a passage wherein Jesus tells his disciples and others not to worry. Fear not, little flock, for it is your father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Let us transport that text into our own this day for it is important to see the continuity of expression on this subject. Time and time again Jesus comforts his followers with the assurance that God’s love is a given. It is part and parcel to the Kingdom of God. I am a little miffed at Jesus for saying that I, who am evil, know what good things to give my children. But I am willing to take the high road on this one. For the larger point is this---we must stop worrying about God’s love, either for us or our neighbor. The heart of the Kingdom of God is love. And love is reflected in forgiveness. And forgiveness opens the way to pursue the goals of God’s Kingdom. Which is pretty much the Lord’s Prayer. It is also at the heart of a lot of questions our children ask us---or others. The questions that have, at their heart, do you love me? Am I safe? Can I trust? Dare I risk? Jesus says yes. And yes. And yes. Love, forgive, pray, and live. Ask, knock and receive. Receive the Holy Spirit which your Father is every ready to give.

The Good Samaritan

Although I am not preaching this week, I was ruminating about the lectionary reading which is the familiar story of the Good Samaritan. Like many of Luke's stories, the Good Samaritan has transcended its biblical roots to become part of the common vernacular of the people. Those who do something nice for another are often called "good Samaritans" even by people who have no idea that the term comes from the Bible or who a Samaritan is.

As with many stories of Jesus, as told by Luke, the Good Samaritan does not simply fall from the sky. Jesus does not stop random passers-by and say "hear this story". The story is prompted by an exchange with a "lawyer", one of the religious leaders specializing in Torah interpretation. The lawyer correctly understands that the greatest law involves "loving neighbor as yourself." But he does not stop there. In Luke's words "seeking to justify himself", the lawyer asks, "who is my neighbor?"

It is response to this question that Jesus tells his story. The circumstances of the story are well known and we will not review them here. If you want you can go read it in Luke 10. What matters to us here is this: at the end of the story Jesus asks the lawyer "who was neighbor to the man?" The lawyer responds, "The one who showed him mercy."

Jesus, as is his custom, turns the terms of the question up-side-down. The lawyer asked, "who is my neighbor?" Jesus asks, "who was neighbor to the man?" The story redefines the emphasis of the question of neighbor. Rather than a means of assessing who is worthy of being considered a "neighbor", Jesus defines neighbor as something we "are" to others. Therefore, the worthiness of the one we help becomes irrelevant. What matters is need.

My In-laws attend a church in Green Valley, AZ which is very committed to Border issues. Arizona, as many people know, has recently passed legislation relating to illegal immigration which has raised quite a ruckus. There is a group in my In-Laws church called the "Samaritans" whose calling it is to look for immigrants in the desert region around the border and provide them with food or water or help. A great many people who seek to come from Mexico to the United States do so at great risk and many die in the attempt. Should the "Samaritans" find someone in the desert, they provide necessities for survival and, if the circumstances warrant it, they call Border Patrol.

Understandably there are many people who do not like the Samaritans. They feel these illegal immigrants get what they have coming if they die in the desert. They feel that providing them with food and water is unlawfully assisting them in breaking the law. There is a group, known as the Minutemen, who patrol looking for migrants for the purpose of harassing and intimidating them. This is not the only difference between Samaritans and Minutemen: the Samaritans are armed with water and food. The Minutemen are merely armed.

When we look at this situation in Arizona from the standpoint of Jesus' story, something should be clear. Jesus' story is about BEING a neighbor to those in need. Not, as the lawyer hoped, about assessing who was worthy of mercy. The Samaritans in Arizona are, therefore, very biblical in their desire to show mercy to those in need without assessing their character, legality, or circumstance (apart from their immediate need for food and water). The Minutemen, it would seem, are more like the Lawyer who asked Jesus the question. Who is my neighbor? Apparently, thirsty, starving Mexicans in the desert are not "their neighbor". If we want to be followers of Jesus, what shall we do? How shall we respond to the immigration issue? It is by no means easy. It is quite complicated. But we should begin with the right question. It is not, "who is my neighbor?" The right question is "Who acted as neighbor to the one in need?"

Ready or Not

Galatians 6:14-16
Luke 10:1-11

We in the modern church do not speak much of circumcision. And this is fine with me. With the exception of Jewish people, this topic is best discussed with one’s pediatrician rather than one’s pastor. We may acknowledge that this subject bears some importance to the Old Testament and Paul seems to want to bring it up a lot, but by and large this subject, from our religious viewpoint, is a religious concern of a by-gone era.

But this avoidance does come at a cost. For while it is true that circumcision itself is not relevant to gentile Christians such as us, Paul is making an important point that should not be lost, tossed out like the proverbial baby with the bathwater. Paul is speaking of a matter of great importance to the early church. The issue is whether non-Jews need to go through a process of becoming Jews on the way to becoming Christians. Paul says no. If you are a Jew, as he was, then good for you. If you are not, then welcome aboard. The only thing that matters to Paul is the New Creation in Jesus Christ, realized in the cross of Christ, a reality equally accessible to the Jew and the non-Jew.

So the question for us hip, modern Christians is this: what is our circumcision? In other words, what are those things we cling to as essential prerequisites for participation in the Christian faith? We might be surprised when we stop to think about it, how many things we consider the essential “first things first”. Just as those early Jewish Christians believed that conforming to the Jewish law was a prerequisite for being a “Christian”, so we, too, have our gauntlets established.

As you know one of my favorite examples in town is the church that has the handy card in the pews which tell visitors the seven things they have to believe before they can become members or take communion. We are well familiar with the Roman Catholic understanding that only Roman Catholics may partake of the Eucharist. There is a church in town on the way to Cody Go Carts whose sign proclaims the following: Fundamental, Independent, and KJV ONLY!

In the Christian bookstore you can buy evangelical tracts to hand out to people. One of them tells the story of an Army chaplain who worked hard to help those in his charge, including those who didn’t believe in Jesus. When he died he went to the pearly gates only to be told by whomever was standing guard that he didn’t get in because he did not worship Jesus as the only way to salvation. As I understood the message, it makes no difference how much compassion you show people, especially people who are religiously different, if you do not drive home Jesus you don’t get in.

Now I can’t speak for you, wouldn’t dream of it, but I have a hard time with believing in a God who, at the end of the day, is as petty and vindictive as we are. But I digress. The point is this: It seems we all have those things we find essential prerequisites on the way to “being saved”. For many Christians, before you can be one of us, you have to BE one of us.

But what is the biblical witness? What does scripture say? Well, to be a bit more focused, what do this morning’s texts say? Since we have already started with Paul we will stay with him. Paul’s letter to the Galatians is, with the possible exception of Romans, the most succinct statement of his theology. And whereas Romans is drawn out a bit, more of a reasoned argument, Galatians is a fiery retort full of anger. Paul apparently wrote it himself, at least the conclusion, literally, as he mentions what large letters he makes when he writes with his own hand. At issue here is whether the church—or series of churches—to which Paul has brought the Gospel will continue in the Gospel Paul preached. Or shall they, from Paul’s perspective, be “led astray”. Paul’s Gospel is inclusive. Gentile or Jew, male or female, slave nor free—all are one in Christ Jesus. For Paul, God has intervened in human history decisively in Jesus Christ. This “once and for all” event changes everything. No longer does the law hold humanity in captivity. The law has been condensed into a new reality in Christ—it is by God’s grace that we are saved through faith in the one who makes salvation possible. What is left is a life of thankful praise. After depositing this gospel of grace, Paul moved on. Not long after, it appears, other evangelists came through with a slightly different message. Not so fast, they said: Jesus, yes, but the law as well. And these evangelists compelled potential Gentile Christians to first accept the requirements of the law, circumcision—the sign of the covenant with Abraham—being the outward sign.

Well, when Paul finds out he flips out, and this letter is his response. Paul ends his letter with a glorious observation that is worth every bit of time we take meditating on it. Neither circumcision or uncircumcision is anything. The New Creation is everything. Or, as the Greek text reads: Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision—New Creation!

The New Creation. This is the foundation of Paul’s theology. Whatever went wrong with Adam in the Garden of Eden, whatever went wrong which made the law and all of its baggage necessary, whatever twists and turns human affairs have taken, sinking deeper and deeper into sin, all of that is erased with a sweep of God’s cosmic hand. Paul preaches Christ and him crucified and raised, God’s “New Creation” in which sin is forgiven and overcome, death is overcome, all human division is overcome. What remains in this “New Creation” is unity, brother and sisterhood, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. As Paul sardonically points out, against these there is no law.

But more than this, the point to take away from his words is this: All of it is of God’s choosing and God’s doing. This seems so simple to say but so hard to truly accept. We don’t get a say in this. It’s done. That is why Paul is so upset with these Galatians. Jesus has taken away any and all of the human rules for religion. Think of it this way. This is the season for bad weather. We have storms from time to time. When a severe thunderstorm is heading our way, the weather people let us know. They issue a warning and we, if we are wise, heed that warning and take precautions. Are we at liberty to say, “thank you for the note about the storm, but we prefer sunshine thank you.” No. The storm is coming. We cannot change that. All we can do is adjust ourselves to that impending reality.

And so it is for Paul and the New Creation. We do not get to decide whether we want a New Creation or not. We do not get to select from a buffet of religious choices which parts suit us and which parts do not. God has redeemed creation in Jesus Christ and we, as part of that creation, are caught up in redemption. Paul says we have to grasp that redemption, which is faith, and live a grateful life in the ways he describes. Now surely many people believe themselves to be redeemed and, in one sense, they are. But do they act like Paul would have them act—with love, joy, peace, etc. Or do they act as the Jewish Christians act—with rules and regulations and condemnations and threats

In our Gospel story Jesus sends teams out to proclaim the good news. Jesus gives them particular instructions. If you come to a town and they receive you, good. Tell them the Kingdom of God has come near to them. If you go to a town that does not receive you, bad. Tell them the Kingdom of God has come near them.

Do you notice what these two experiences have in common? Not the reception, to be sure. Some towns were happy to see them and others not. What was common to both events was the message. The message is the same to those who are receptive and to those who are not—the Kingdom of God has come near.

Imagine you go to visit other lands with a message—your message is that a heavy rainfall is coming. The first land you visit is locked in a severe drought. How will you message be received? With joy, one supposes. As the answer to prayer. Now you visit a land in which the grass is green and the plants are plentiful and the residents do nothing but play golf every day. You bring your message of heavy rainfall. How will they feel about it? They will be disappointed, as the reality you predict will mess up their plans, their way of life.

It is not a perfect illustration, but it is meant to help us think about the ways in which one message may be heard differently by different people in different situations. In Jesus’ day, those who were, for the most part, excluded from the benefits of society welcomed Jesus’ words. Those who largely benefited from the status quo were not as keen. Good news is not always Good news for everyone.

But it should be. The Kingdom of God and its righteousness is a pearl of great price, a treasure hidden in the field. The Kingdom of God is a mustard seed that grows into a giant bush and a seed that takes root in fertile ground. But more than anything, the Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of GOD. And, as such, like our thunderstorm, has come whether we like it or not. Like Paul’s New Creation, the Kingdom of God is a new and triumphant reality that has arrived by God’s will alone and we cannot live in any other reality because there is no other reality. That is not to say we cannot try to live in another reality. We can, and often do, attempt to impose our Kingdoms onto the Kingdom of God. But this is folly, the evangelists agree, and in Jesus Christ—his life, death, resurrection—we see God’s intention for our lives together and God’s promised fulfillment of things at the end of history.

So back to our original question. What, for us, is circumcision? Or, what would Paul say to us today, using the language and examples from our time? That is for each of us to answer, but here are a few ideas….
Neither the KJV nor the NRSV is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Neither your politics nor my politics is anything, but the New Creation is everything.
Neither your creed nor my creed is anything, but the New Creation is everything.

Or, just simply—The New Creation is everything. The Kingdom of God has come near. Ready or not….

Should We Fear God?

Should We Fear God?



Each of us is afraid of something. I am afraid of heights. A few summers ago we roofed our old house and I was unable to go up and help. Maybe its more a fear of ladders. Or, maybe I am just afraid of hard work. In any event, it was very useful to have this fear a few summers ago.

Fear can be very helpful. The zebra who is not afraid of the lion is called lunch. Fear is entirely normal. It is perfectly understandable to experience fear between the medical tests and learning the results of medical tests. It is a scary world, to be sure. There seems to be a lot these days to be afraid of.

But should we be afraid of God? This is the question I have been pondering after driving by one of our local churches whose sign exclaimed “those who fear God do not have to fear anything else.” Now I am certain that this expression was meant as a comfort and with the best intentions and I am not quarrelling with the church. But the statement raises an interesting theological question and, I think, an important one. Should we fear God? Does God expect us to fear him? If so, what are the consequences of not fearing God? If we are not to fear God, what are the alternatives?

As always, the place to take such questions is the Bible. And not just bits of the bible, but as much of the Bible as we can manage. There are an abundance of choices for this subject from the Old Testament but I was drawn to a very familiar statement which is really at the heart of Old Testament wisdom literature. Proverbs 1: the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

What does the proverb mean by “fear the Lord”? In the Old Testament this word, like many words, can mean one thing in one place and something different in another place. But by and large when the Old Testament talks about fear of the Lord—and nearly four-fifths of all references to fear in the Old Testament have God as the object—it means a combination of fear and awe, or reverence. To the Hebrew mind, God is awesome, mysterious. One cannot look upon God and live. The God of Isaac is referred to in various places as “the fear of Isaac”.

Which is not to say that the common understanding of fear is not also present. There are many references which mean pretty much to be afraid. The psalms are full of references to the this fear of the Lord as being a very healthy response.

And certainly in the Old Testament there is a lot to fear. Adam and Eve were fearful of God after they disobeyed and they had reason to, as they were cast out of paradise and saddled with painful punishments. God was angered by the behavior of human beings and sent a flood to wipe them out. Moses feared God after discovering that the people had molded a golden calf and the result of that episode was a great plague which God sent to the people on account of their sin. Throughout the narratives of Israel first in the time of the Judges through the story of the Kings God is constantly delivering Israel into the hands of their enemies because of this or that transgression. No wonder wisdom says to begin with fear of the Lord.

And clearly these ideas are still with us to this day. Whenever tragedy strikes, like the earthquake in Haiti, there will be people like Pat Robertson who see the vengeful hand of God. Robertson and the late Jerry Falwell raised a stir after 9/11 calling in God’s judgment on America. Behind such statements is clearly the theology that says that God is ever ready to do us harm if we are not doing exactly what God demands we do.

But how can this view be contemplated by anyone who has the Gospel implanted in his/her heart? And to be fair to the Old Testament, there are abundant passages of grace. God forgives, redeems, comforts, even regrets. It is in that light that the New Testament illumines the Old, or, that the Old Testament emerges into the New. But the place to start in the New Testament is, or course, with Jesus.

Or just before Jesus. Luke begins his nativity story with John the Baptist’s dad Zechariah. When Zechariah first heard that he and Elizabeth were going to have a son he was afraid. When Mary was visited by the angel she was perplexed. When the shepherds encountered the angels they were sore afraid. And in each instance the message was the same. Do not be afraid.

Throughout the Gospel narratives there are people in fear. There is the woman with the flow of blood who touches Jesus’ hem and is healed. She is afraid of Jesus but Jesus tells her that her faith has healed her. The leader of the synagogue whose child is dying is told “Do not fear, only believe” and his daughter is healed. The disciples see Jesus walking across the water and they are afraid and Jesus says, “Do not be afraid, it is I”.

Now there is one passage where Jesus says “I will warn you who to fear: fear him who has the authority to cast into hell.” (Luke 12:4-34) From this it would appear that Jesus is advocating a healthy fear of God. And yet when we look more closely at the context, Jesus is really contrasting this fear with the present earthly fear of authorities who have the power to kill indiscriminately. Further, Jesus says only two lines later: “Do not be afraid, you are of more value than many sparrows.”

In other words, Jesus is speaking rhetorically. Rather than fearing human authority, if you are going to fear someone, fear God, because only God is in control of your eternal destiny. Why waste your time being afraid of anything lesser than God? And here is where the church sign cozies up to the scripture. But Jesus quickly adds something which changes the complexion of this idea completely. If we fear anything it should be God, but we should not fear God because God places a great value on us. Jesus then goes on to caution against worry, talks about the ravens and the lilies of the field and culminates with the passage: Fear not little flock, for it is your father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.

So we return to the question with which we began: Are we meant to fear God? Well certainly if “fear” is understood as a reverential awe, as an acknowledgement of the mystery and autonomy that is God, then surely this is a good disposition to hold. Yet I knew a man once who, thankfully, had no children, who gave me some parenting advice. He looked at me at said, “Pastor, you and I both know what it takes to be a parent—you have to give ‘em fear!” Apparently he was disturbed by the fact that the kids next door were a bit exuberant and he thought if they carried with them the fear of a good beating they might be less annoying.

Now if this is how we are to understand the fear of God then I think the New Testament witness discourages this. Now I don’t want to get sidetracked into debates about parenting and punishment and consequences etc because that is not really my point. My point is that Jesus exclusively tells people that God is not to be feared as the deliverer of punishment, he is to be loved and followed for he has in his grace given us the Kingdom of God.

The earliest New Testament witness to this is the Apostle Paul who writes frequently about this, especially in the letter to the Romans. Although Paul, being a human being, is not entirely consistent in his theology, he does amplify the point that in Christ we have been set free from the judgment of the law by the grace of God. And, being free from the burden of perfection under the law, we are free to respond in grace to the needs of the world. Can he put it more eloquently than he does in Romans 8 when he writes “nothing in life or in death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”?

That seems pretty comprehensive—nothing in life or in death. And yet how often do we hear of the conditional love of God, which is why this topic is important.

Fear, properly understood, has its place. It protects the Zebra from being lunch and it protects us from wandering into a busy street without paying attention. Fear, properly understood, puts us in a good orientation to God as one who is majestic and awesome and yet personal to us in Christ. Fear, not properly used or managed, is a bad thing when it is used as a tool of manipulation by governments or churches or any other organization.

So fear not, little flock, for it is the Father’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. It is for this reason, and not out of fear, that when something goes wrong in the kingdom we rush to aid and support as we did in Haiti or we did in the gulf coast when hurricanes strike, or anywhere else locally or globally where people are in distress. This is our Father’s world and we are meant to tend it, build it, maintain justice within it. We do this not out of fear of condemnation but out of the joy of life in Jesus Christ. Remember, God sent his only son not to condemn the world, but so the world might be saved through him. Fear not.

Now, having said that, I am still not going up on that roof.