For a Week Like This: Sermon Based on Matthew 14:22-33; Romans 10:5-15

For the scripture texts, go here: http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Romans+10%3A5-15&vnum=yes&version=nrsv
and here: http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Matthew+14%3A22-33&vnum=yes&version=nrsv
          For decades the best news many heard each week was from Lake Wobegon “where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking and all the children are above average.” I bet many would’ve been thrilled this past week if our biggest news was that there were too many tomatoes in people’s gardens. Instead we’ve had a steady diet of bellicose bombast from US and North Korean leaders and updates from Charlottesville about the most recent protest by KKK members, neo-Nazis, and other white supremacists, and news of subsequent deaths and injuries. If we ever needed to hear different news, especially the odd and radically different good news of the Gospel, this would be it.
          But at such a time, today’s assigned texts seem irrelevant, even ludicrous. Our reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans is part of a larger, three chapter long soul-searching struggle: if Jesus really is God’s main man for setting things right between God and us and showing us how to live truly with one another, why haven’t Christ’s own people and Paul’s faith family bought in? If Jesus really is true, why don’t God’s chosen and favored people, the Jews, see the light?
          This isn’t a little mind game for Paul; it causes him anguish, grief. The Jews are God’s uniquely chosen and adopted; they experience God’s glory and presence in a matchless relationship of worship and commitment; he says, “to them belong the promises, the favored faith ancestors; from them has come the chosen Messiah who is over all, God blessed forever.”
          How did things go wrong? A few verses before our reading Paul affirms that his fellow Jews have real love and devotion for God. The problem is that they don’t truly get who God is or how to be in a right relationship with God. The truth is that often we don’t get it, either.
          Paul says there are two ways to be right with God and each other. One is to keep the rules, cross all the t’s, dot all the i’s. In other words, prove we’re worthy of God’s love and deserve special favor and treatment. Paul writes, “Moses writes about the righteousness that comes from the law, that the person who does these things will live by them;’” or as another translation puts it, “a person can become acceptable to God by obeying God’s Law in scripture; if you want to live you must do all that the Law commands.”
          At my age I go to lots of funerals; I often hear about how great and good a person was, so there’s no question: they’ve earned their heavenly reward. On the other hand, many young folks believe in so-called moralistic therapeutic deism: there is a God who created everything and watches over us but isn’t too involved in life, except when we need help with a problem; this God wants us to be good, nice, play fair, be happy and feel good about ourselves; and if we do that we’ll go to heaven when we die. Truth be told, many learned that in Sunday School and in countless children’s sermons. And in between youth and age, it’s tempting to believe we’re God’s favorites because we work hard, or get the best grades or the most Instagram likes, or live in the right area or are the right color or gender or live in the best nation or chose the right religion; we even believe that people are poor because they deserve it, which means I deserve being well off. I’ve earned it, by God. We create a world of winners and losers, them and us, insiders and outsiders, chosen and rejected. But it’s life on a very shaky foundation. If we’re not always and everywhere the absolute best bringing our A Game, then confidence and entitlement evaporate. What if we’re not good enough, smart enough, hard working enough? There’s no rest or real joy; we only have disquiet, stress, fear as we anxiously look over the shoulder at who’s catching up. There’s no real community of care because you’ re a competing threat; we can live glibly together, but in a crunch you can soon become my enemy. It’s a helluva way to live.
          But God intends another truer way, a more blessed way. In Romans Paul describes another righteousness that comes from faith, trust, and confidence in God, not in ourselves. The God met in Christ loves us, is for us, cherishes us simply because we are, is always at work for the good of all of us, and simply will not leave us or forsake us or abandon us to fend for ourselves. Your pastor got it right in his Easter sermon this spring: there’s absolutely nothing you can do to keep God from loving you. This is the faith of Jesus; he lived his life all the way to the cross and beyond, trusting in God and God’s loving care above all else. And God said “Yes!” to that kind of trusting faith and blessed it as the right way to live by raising Christ from the dead. The Risen Christ is alive in our midst and not far off. And the great good news is that I am most alive when I learn by heart to live trusting in that God, too. Best of all, Paul says that blessed better way is for all: “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved; everyone: Jew and Gentile, American and North Korean; white and person of color; anyone will be saved who trusts and believes that God loves and forgives and accepts and shows mercy toward all and wants abundant life for every last one of us.
          Now that’s not me just saying the right thing or having the right feeling in my heart. To say Jesus is Lord means no one or nothing else has first place in my life: not my race or nation or a political leader or ideology or tax bracket or anything else. And believing that in my heart is not cozy warm fuzzy feeling. If I confess from the heart that God raised Jesus from the dead, that means I stake everything on trusting that is the way to live and commit body and soul to doing so. I will not be ashamed to live like that. No matter what, I will give myself to living that way, come what may. That is the Jesus Way. The world’s dying to see us live like that’s true and real. What a blessing to lay down the burden of proving our worth; to experience joy and live lighter. It is God’s gift to us.
          I’ll spend my whole life learning to receive and trust the gift fully. I’m like Peter in today’s gospel story. I want to trust that Christ is near and step out in faith even in the dark; sometimes I actually do so. But when life’s storms threaten or fears batter I quickly can sink in doubt. Thank God, Christ still reaches out today to save me and help me walk in faith and trust again.
          Today while the governments of North Korea and the US play a cosmic size game of chicken, Christians in both North and South Korea are united in praying, as they do every August, for the peaceful reunification of the Korean Peninsula. Those prayers from the hearts of countless Koreans north and south, on both sides of he Demilitarized Zone, are being joined by many other Christians connected globally through the World Council of Churches, the World Communion of Reformed Churches and the World Evangelical Alliance. Jesus people trust it is more holy to live from mercy and grace than fire and fury; we know the Lord of all is generous to all who call to him.
          This week a friend asked prayers for her nephew Jason Kessler, the young man at the heart of yesterday’s Unite the Right event in Charlottesville. She’s pained that Jason’s alienated from his whole family, angry and hate-filled. They were all worried, disheartened and concerned for his safety. Jason’s aunt reported something remarkable: First United Methodist Church was Ground Zero for people of faith to gather to bear witness against hate, and one of the pastors at the church reached out to Jason to offer sanctuary if he felt threatened in any way. It is that odd way of Jesus, to trust that God wants life for all.
          In yesterday’s chaos and anger there I saw Christ as clergy and other people of faith stood between protesters and counter-protesters. In a photo they were linked arm in arm in an alternating pattern so they faced both sides as if, through them, God was calling all to turn and live and be saved. Tragically someone spurned his invitation; a life was lost and others maimed, by a hate-driven guided missile of a car. All the more reason for us to continue to bear witness to the truth we know in Christ.
          Mother Teresa said, “If we have no peace it’s because we’ve forgotten that we belong to each other.” Our wounded woebegone world aches to hear our good news. How beautiful our feet when we bring it, our mouths when we tell it, our lives when we live it. Amen.
-David M. Hindman, 2017, soli Deo gloria.
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The Perfect Church: A Sermon Based on Acts 2:42-47, on the Occasion of the Baptism of James Eno Clayton

Your pastor Meghan told me that during this Easter season she’s preaching on the early church as described in the book of Acts and what that might mean for us today. One of her guiding questions is this: Was the early church perfect and have it all right?

The quick and easy answer is of course it wasn’t perfect and didn’t have it all right. After all, if the early church was perfect, we wouldn’t have most of the New Testament; much of Paul’s letters deal with problems in his less than perfect churches. Even in the book of Acts and its pretty picture of the church, there are problems to be faced and addressed.

You may be surprised that not only is there a perfect church, I know where it is; I saw it a few years ago during a William & Mary Wesley Foundation Spring Break mission trip to Atlanta. The Perfect Church had a large sign above the main door reading, “The Perfect Church,” so it must be perfect, right? You wouldn’t lie about that, right? What was interesting was that the carved sign “The Perfect Church” had a crack in it, so The Perfect Church sign was, well, imperfect.

It’s true that we have ideas of the perfect church, whether in Atlanta or here or elsewhere. And people do look for it. On YouTube, search for “Church Hunters” and you’ll find a comical spoof of HGTV’s House Hunters; a couple looks for the perfect church with just the right blend of hipness, convenience, music, branding and star preaching. For others the perfect church has every seat taken on Sunday, the budget’s easily met, there are enough volunteers so I don’t have to do much, young families, children and teens are everywhere but old people are still mostly in charge, the preacher is young with 40 years experience, serious and totally funny, always available anytime to me but dedicated to her family, preaches from the Bible in a way that’s always relevant and tells it like it is but is never offensive or controversial. Perfect, right?

Today’s reading in Acts follows the Pentecost Day birth of the church when 3000 become believers after a powerful, Spirit-filled sermon by Peter. We now see the Jesus community evoking awe and marked by signs and wonders. It sounds picture perfect; I’d like to be part of such a church, wouldn’t you? More importantly, could Salem be such a church?

But before we hear about that “perfect” church in Acts, we might honestly think that “perfect” is too strong a word, too impossible, too flawless for Salem. But here’s some good news: in the Bible perfection doesn’t mean utterly pure or unrivaled or faultless or beyond compare. The Greek word teleios simply means doing what you’re created to do, being what you were made to be. For example, my lawnmore is teleios; it’s perfect, not because it dropped straight out of heaven, or there’s none like in the world, or it’s better than yours. It’s much simpler. My mower’s perfect because it does what it’s supposed to do, what it’s made for. I put in gas, crank it, put it in gear and voilà, it runs smoothly on all cylinders and grass gets cut. It was made for grass cutting and that what it does. It’s awesome, perfect.

So what are the marks of the perfect church in Acts? Listen to today’s report from the book of Acts:

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.”

They seem to be joyfully caught up in a new kind of life rooted in the Holy Spirit and constantly devoted to worship; there’s continual learning about God’s great works in Christ and what that means for faith and life; they eat weekly in homes and around the Lord’s Table; there’s habitual and fervent prayer, and sharing a common life deeply. Not just the good and easy things are shared, but shared struggles and failures, needs and fears, along with gratitude and victories. In that community there is caring honesty, healing, hope, joy, active love, and sacrificial compassion so no one is in need, and all have enough. What strikes me about this picture especially is that it doesn’t sound like it is legally enforced, but Holy Spirit-enabled. There’s s mutual agreement and a shared commitment to live in such a way; they didn’t take a vote with majority rule winners and losers; they were drawn to this way because they couldn’t imagine another way to share life in love with God and each other. Such a life together brought them such unaffected joy that they had to praise God with glad and generous hearts, and others were drawn to it because it had such magnetic power and evoked their goodwill and awe.

Can Salem be such a perfect church? Yes, not because you’re great but because God is; and because God is good and desires it for you. Here’s an extraordinary promise: the same Spirit that empowered the church in Acts can still act here. Constantly hold up that mirror of church, reflect it here, and by grace you will become what you see. The God who raised Christ from the dead can raise you to such a life. Church, that’s the Easter life good news, even here.

Here’s why it matters. Today Meghan and Josh give baby James up for adoption. They’re bringing him to the baptismal font to give him up to God, his rightful owner, and giving him over to you as his faith family, because they know they can’t do this faith thing all on their own. They need your help, just like you need theirs to keep close to Christ and to help James take on a Christ-shaped life. They’ll make promises to do their best by grace to show Christ to James in their lives, and they ask you to do the same so James can grow up with a greater knowledge of what it means to hunger for Christ and to love God and others. In the language of the old Methodist baptism service for children, they hope that together you’ll “live a life that becomes the gospel” and makes it real and true and attractive, so in time James will also choose Jesus because he won’t be able to imagine any other way to live. That would be perfect, thanks be to God.

-2017, David M. Hindman, soli Deo gloria.

Unexpected Blessings: Sermon Based on John 20:19-31

Locked inside Greensville Correctional Center with 150 inmates wasn’t a place I expected to be blessed. It was a Sunday night, like those we just read about in John’s Gospel; shut up in a place where sadness and despair and fear also live. We were singing a worship song that never would’ve been on my top 40 list. But unexpected blessing came in such a place and time. I realized that the Risen Christ had broken in and was standing in our midst bringing peace and joy and love and freedom and life like I don’t always experience where there aren’t guard towers. In the midst of the full-throated and full-bodied joyful song of my brothers in Christ I realized, surely God is in this place, and I did not know it – an unexpected blessing.

That’s what we hear in this Gospel story. The disciples are locked away in fear and anxiety, prisoners of their grief and disappointment, facing an uncertain future, still shocked at the Jesus’ death, the one they truly believed was God’s man. And then suddenly, unexpectedly, Jesus stands among them bringing peace, showing them his wounds so they know it’s really him alive in a way they can’t explain. The most real things they know are that Jesus was crucified, died and buried, and now he’s alive in their midst bringing peace and joy. Surely God is in this place, and they did not know it until Jesus breaks in, bringing unexpected blessing.

Such blessings can come in many ways. Ours is not a one size fits all faith: what abundant and amazing grace. Sometimes unexpectedly, what seemed dead and lifeless breaks open with new life. Many years ago, a friend greeted me after worship after we’d had Holy Communion using the old Methodist ritual that I mostly experienced as dreary and depressing. But she was unexpectedly exuberant, glowing, joyous in a way most unlike her, especially after our usual sober “celebration.” Ecstatically she said, “Today I got it. After all these years of praying the same prayers and using the same liturgy, I heard something I’d never heard it before in the words, ‘that we may walk in newness of life. That’s what this is all about; it’s what it means to be a Christian; we get to live new life, go a different way; travel a better road!” Unexpectedly and blessedly, the Risen Christ broke through a familiar and locked down faith tradition with new presence, new joy, new life.

That’s part of the Easter promise! Christ is alive, still meeting and greeting us with life and joy and peace, especially when we think we’ve got things locked down, secure and under control; or when life seems uncertain and terrifying. A tired old hymn suddenly speaks to us in a fresh way; scripture we’ve read countless times comes alive as God speaks to us directly in a stunning way; or an ordinary conversation unexpectedly becomes holy and life changing.

At a church homecoming service I attended as an adult, I saw an older man I’d known from childhood. With joy and deep gratitude I told him that when I was in college he’d spoken words at a church meeting that had changed my life. He listened to my story but said with a wry smile, “I just don’t remember that at all.” What was ordinary and forgettable to him was an unexpected blessing to me; the Risen Christ spoke through him and the old man didn’t know it.

In mission and service we may assume we’re the ones bringing God and help and hope; but unexpected blessing can come through those to whom we go; the Risen Christ enters our lives afresh bringing joy and peace and life. A campus ministry colleague took a group of students on a spring break mission trip to Guatemala; the team included a young man who said he was an atheist, but he wanted to do good. Of course he was welcomed because that’s what Christians do, right? The team worked in a village with only widows and children; a few years earlier the Guatemalan army had come to round the men up and lock them in the village church and blow it up. That young man worked alongside the widows who shared their lives and their faith in ordinary ways and at week’s end he humbly said, “If these women who have suffered so much and have so little can trust and believe in God, maybe I can, too.” The Risen Christ broke into his locked up beliefs and assumptions to plant a seed of faith as an unexpected blessing.

Scripture promises such blessing to all of us, not just a select few. In today’s story the Risen Christ comes to the disciples. For John that’s not just the 12; he rarely mentions them as a group. The disciples are all who follow and love Jesus; that’s to whom he comes, as they need him, meeting them where they are.

Certainly that’s Thomas’ story. We typically call him Doubting Thomas, and I like that, because that means my doubts and uncertainties and questions won’t keep Jesus from me, and Jesus won’t love me less. But when you read John’s Gospel there’s more to Thomas. He is also Brave Thomas saying to his friends let us go with Jesus even if that means dying with him. He’s Honest Thomas; the night before his arrest Jesus tells the disciples, “You know where I’m going and you know the way.” But Thomas says, “Lord, we don’t know where you’re going so how can we know the way?” There’s a beauty in owning up to how clueless you are and to trust Christ won’t give up on you; that’s when Jesus tells Thomas, “I am the Way, and the Truth and the Life.” Thanks to Thomas we have those treasured words and that blessed promise.

So it’s not surprising that when Thomas is told that the Lord is risen and has appeared to the disciples, he doesn’t believe it. Hearsay evidence isn’t good enough for him; a one-off, second-hand faith isn’t for him. He wants direct encounter, a hands on, full-bodied meet up with Jesus. We tend to criticize Thomas for that; he should just believe, right? But Thomas only asked for what the others already received – to know and see for himself, to believe up close and personal, not at a distance. Isn’t that what we all want? And the unexpected blessing is that Christ gave Thomas what he needed, in a way he needed it. He doesn’t chastise or criticize Thomas. He comes to him, again through locked doors, and invites Thomas into that direct encounter: put your finger here; put your hand there. In our English translation Thomas is a doubter; but that’s not what Jesus says in the Greek. There he calls Thomas from being an unbeliever to be a believer. And then Jesus gives us an unexpected blessing because even though we aren’t among those first disciples in that long ago place, belief and faith are gifts that are given to us, too. We are those who believe, although we have not seen. We don’t meet a dead Jesus but a living Christ in scripture and prayer and worship and service; he still comes to us with unexpected blessing and calls us to believe and trust and live, and to continue his work and mission and ministry. The Risen Christ doesn’t come to the disciples to say, ”I’m alive so now you know you can go to heaven when you die.” Not at all. What he does is breathe the Holy Spirit on them, like God breathing life into the first man in Genesis’ creation story, or like the prophet Ezekiel when he envisions God breathing breath/wind/spirit into a valley full of dry bones that are raised to new life. The Risen Christ breathes that same Holy Spirit into the disciples, birthing new creation and says, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.”   By the Holy Spirit’s power working in us and through us and for us, Christ sends us, like him, to live and heal, to love and forgive, to teach and serve, to show mercy and bring peace and abundant life. We get to be his partners and co-workers; Christ alive in us!

What a great joy, what an unexpected blessing. I have a treasured picture of my daughter and wife working alongside each other in the kitchen preparing a Thanksgiving feast. They both look at the camera, so alike, so happy, working together to make Thanksgiving real. That’s what we’re about, working alongside Christ to give the world what the hymn writer calls “a sweet foretaste of the festal joy, the Lamb’s great banquet feast of bliss and love.”

In the same way I watch our neighbor Quinn and his son Liam. Whatever Dad’s doing, Liam does. In the yard, they wear identical baseball hats; they’re partners bringing life to their yard, one working with big people tools, the other with tools his size, but side by side sharing the joyful work together. And in days to come, our Grace and little Liam will continue living in the light of lessons learned and living love will be still be near, even if in a different way.

That’s what we get to do; work alongside Christ and show the life Christ gives in our lives. In the words of blessing in our wedding liturgy, we get to “bear witness to the love of God in this world so that those to whom love is a stranger will find in us generous friends;” we get to tell the story that Christ still comes with joy and peace; we get to love as Jesus loves, and serve in his name; in the words of John’s story we get to to be signs of Christ’s life so others can judge for themselves if they want to be part of such an incredible story, and believe for themselves that this same Crucified and Risen Jesus is Lord and God, Savior and Messiah; and believing they – and we – will have life in his name, thanks be to God.

-2017, David M. Hindman, soli Deo gloria.

If I Was Preaching This Week…

One of the most dangerous and prideful risks taken by a retired preacher (or any homiletician not preaching on a particular day) is to share publicly how they would engage with a biblical text if given the opportunity.  But as a WOMP (Worn Out Methodist Preacher) I have a certain liberty (or diminished sense of self-control) and much more free time to let my mind go where it will without having to meet that deadline my colleagues still face – the relentless return of the Sabbath.

Case in point: this week’s Old Testament lesson (5th Sunday in Lent) is Ezekiel 37:1-14 (http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Ezekiel+37:1-14&vnum=yes&version=nrsv).  It’s the story of the prophet Ezekiel being caught up in a divine dream/vision in which he sees a valley of dry bones and is questioned by God as to whether the bones can live again.  After following God’s commands to prophesy to the bones and to the wind/breath/spirit, the prophet sees the bones rise up as a mighty host, restored to life, at which God explains this is a vision of the the dried up, dead and hopeless people of Israel whom God will restore, reassemble and revive.

Rightly so and well done this week, the preacher I heard engage with the text named personal experiences of being dead, dried up and hopeless: loss of job or health or marriage, lost hopes for children, etc., and encouraged us to hear the promise that God is able to bring new life even to our most hopeless circumstances.  He also broadened the scope of the sermon to marvel at the ways a missionary in another country works among the poorest of the poor to bring hope, education and new life to children displaced by the government to live literally among garbage heaps.  Can these bones live?  Yes!   It was a word from the Lord, for sure, and I was grateful to be in a place to hear it.

But I hungered for more and found myself thinking, “If I was preaching this week what would I want to speak to God’s people?  What are the questions I would want to ask and what would God’s gospel be?

I am indeed a WOMP and the Christian denomination I love and that formed and shaped me as a follower of the Way is at risk of schism in a way we have not faced since the American Civil War.  Questions about right and proper attitudes and actions around sexuality, especially homosexuality, have been part of our theological terrain my entire ministry.  That is not surprising; it’s been the situation for many oldline denominations, most of which have changed their practices to be more inclusive of GLBTQ folks, including allowing for ordination and officiating at same sex weddings.

But such things are not sanctioned by The United Methodist Church and there are strong forces on all sides pushing and pulling to change or maintain the status quo.  Currently a special commission of our denomination is meeting regularly to discern if we can find a way forward to maintain unity in the midst of diversity, in preparation for a special called meeting of our General Conference to determine what changes, if any, we should make in our polity and practice around human sexuality, or whether we will break the heart of Jesus and sunder his Body once more.

Last month I had a conversation with another WOMP who is convinced that division of the denomination is inevitable, or we face a season of church trials and punishment of progressives by traditionalists.  My colleague is resigned to the death of the denomination as we know it, the consequence of a bridge too far for progressives and traditionalists; his  deeply sad words echoed for me the despair and seeming hopelessness of Ezekiel’s vision scene; if I was preaching this week, I would address the existential threat we United Methodists face and ask the question, “Can these bones live again?”  (Ironically, our Annual Conference has been asked to pray this week for the denomination as part of a systematic strategy of prayer as the commission seeks a way forward; where I worshiped we indeed did pray, but based on the way the prayer was framed I wondered if most of us gathered had any idea of how fraught our future is or what the issues are that evoked such a request).

If I was preaching this week, I would announce the hopeful news that even these bones of The United Methodist Church can indeed live as we confess the truth of our dry and barren faith, our lifeless worship and lack of zeal for the ways of God, our cheap grace and easy ways, our arid discipleship and lack of vibrant desire to seek and welcome all, our seeming lack of interest in being transformed into the image and likeness of Christ, our clinging to the familiar tradition that cannot have a vision/dream that God can indeed do new things beyond our understanding or comfort, our contentment with the status quo, and our reticent resistance truly to seek God’s will and purpose for us, no matter the cost.  We grumble about denominational decline, but seem to be more focused on membership and facile faith than costly discipleship or following a Lord who seemed to break barriers of division and prejudice with extravagant, graceful, holy glee.

Can these bones live again?  Yes, if we understand that life is restored as we heed and respond to the grand Story and Vision of God experienced in scripture (which means we also have to read, know, take seriously and be shaped by the whole of scripture), which from beginning to end is a story of radical trust and adherence to God’s ways marked by compassion, mercy, speaking and living the truth in love, forgiveness, accountability, commitment to healing, humility, sacrificial long-suffering, extraordinary hospitality, generosity, and counter-cultural risk for the sake of God’s Empire – even when that puts us at odds with the ways of the world and whatever empire(s) also want our allegiance and final loyalty.  Instead of trying to save an institution, dry bones come alive as fresh winds of the Spirit blow and take us where we are not in control or try to program and legislatively manipulate for our purposes, but pray, seek, listen, discern, and submit to God’s ways.  The prophet and we are blessed as we trust that our hope ultimately is in God’s good purposes, plans, and power, and not ours.  Instead of being actors, the bones live as we are acted upon because we know that on our own we can do nothing.

And as an American citizen who also is a Christ follower, 10 weeks into the new US administration, I would want to know if these bones of our civil society can live again. When political leaders claim (as has White House political strategist Steve Bannon) that they want to “deconstruct” the body politic, is that akin to scattering the bones of our life together?  Are we at risk of having the life sucked out of the body politic by dissembling, division and ill-will, disregard for one another (especially the most weak and vulnerable), and bullying and battering of one another and our most cherished values and commitments as a nation?  Are we at risk of losing what has truly made us great in exchange for a thin gruel of nativism, racism, Islamophobia, heterosexism, xenophobia and overly monetized values that cheapen our souls?  Can these bones live again?

Again, I would announce the odd, counter-cultural, radical hopeful promise that they can live and that we as people of the Cross have a special role to play by relentlessly and humbly advocating for the disadvantaged and marginalized (including the so-called “deplorables” who also are precious and beloved), speaking the truth in love to and about one another, believing the best of each other, praying fervently for our leaders, welcoming the stranger, living by the Golden Rule (treating other the way we would want if we were in their shoes), listening to all, and working fervently to find a way to live together that more fully resembles the Commonwealth of Heaven, where all are cherished, respected and valued.  The church  and other faith communities have great potential to be the one remaining place where people of differing political priorities and perspectives can come together united in the common purpose of serving God (and for us followers of the Way, emulating Christ who is Lord of all), speaking respectfully and faithfully to one another, and seeking together to work on the shared agenda of doing God’s will and not being beholden ultimately to any political party.

Those are hard words, not easily spoken or readily received.  But I wish I could have said them, or heard them this week.

A Lawnmower, Three Questions, and an Exam: Sermon Based on Matthew 5:38-48

     It’s a sure sign of spring when our lawnmower goes to Ace Hardware for its yearly tune-up. I did that last week and soon I’ll get a call that it’s ready and we’ll be set for the summer. I trust the mechanic so I know it will be totally perfect. That doesn’t mean my mower dropped straight out of heaven, or that it’s the only perfect one in the world, or that I’m saying anything bad about your mower. It’s much simpler. My mower’s perfect because it does what it’s supposed to do, what it’s made for. I put in gas, crank it up, it runs smoothly on all cylinders, I put it in gear and voilà, grass gets cut. It was made for grass cutting and that what it does. It’s awesome, perfect. If I described it in New Testament Greek I’d say my mower is teleios. It does completely what it was created by its maker to do, no more and no less. It is what it is: a mower, exactly perfect in every way.
     Which brings us to Jesus’ teaching today from the Sermon on the Mount. Matthew presents Jesus as the authority figure to follow him and give first place in our lives. Matthew does this in some subtle and creative ways. Again and again he calls to mind key Old Testament people and events and connects them to Jesus. Here Matthew wants to link Jesus to Moses, the most important person to Jews. Jesus is on a mountain, like Moses when he receives the 10 commandments on Mt. Sinai. But here Jesus speaks with more authority than Moses. Five times Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said…,” and follows with “But I say to you…”
     Clearly this Jesus is more important, a greater authority. His teachings on murder and anger, adultery and lust, vows and promises, revenge and enemies take us deeper – into our hearts and motives in a more radical way than a simple list of do’s and don’ts to stay on God’s good side. And the punch line comes at the end: we’re to be like God, the God Jesus shows us in his suffering love. Listen again, “I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” There’s that word again: perfect, teleios: reaching your purpose and goal, aligned with God’s will and ways; grown up and mature with excellence in virtue, being all you were created to be. As another translation puts it, “Therefore, just as your heavenly Father is complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete” (Common English Bible) or as in Peterson’s The Message, “In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you;” or as Luke’s Gospel puts this teaching in somewhat different words, “Be merciful and compassionate just like your Father is” (Common English Bible; Today’s English Version)
     Here’s Jesus’ call to us: we are children of God, so act like it. From the very beginning of the Bible story, that is who we are. In Genesis’ creation story God says, “Let us make humans in our image according to our likeness. So God made us that way and blessed us. And so to be perfectly who we were made to be, we are to be like God – loving, compassionate, merciful. As Leviticus says we are to be holy, like God is holy as we defend the weak and poor and watch out for those who have no one to watch out for them. When we live in the same wild and crazy way as this God who forgives enemies and is gracious and kind to both good and evil, we are perfect. We are who we are made to be: children of our Father in heaven.
     But you say, “Preacher, we can’t do that! We’re not perfect and never will be; it’s crazy even to try.” But then why would Jesus expect this of us? Is he setting us up for some cruel, practical joke, like Lucy challenging Charlie Brown and always pulling the ball away to show that we’re chumps? Or does Jesus really mean it? Does Jesus believe we can be perfect?
     John Wesley believed it. Our father in the faith often preached on Christian perfection or being made perfect in love or growing in holiness. Wesley said God would help us to become what God expected of us. Nothing is impossible for God so God can be trusted to help us become what we were created to be. Now that doesn’t mean that we’ll always do the right thing, or get every answer right on an exam or know the Pick 6 numbers. But with the Holy Spirit’s help and power at work alongside our deep desire, we can in fact be made perfect in love; our every action and desire can be driven by the engine of love for God and others. Even when we mess up, showing love to God and others will be the aim and purpose. That’s what holiness looks like; that’s being made perfect in love. Today every person seeking ordination in The United Methodist Church still answers questions asked of preachers for nearly 275 years, “Are you going on to perfection?” “Yes.” Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this lifetime?” “Yes.” “Are you earnestly striving after it?” “Yes.” In an earlier time every Methodist was asked those questions with the same expected answers. As the bishop who ordained me asked, “If you’re not going on to perfection, where are you going?”
     Now it’s true: on our own we can’t be perfect. We are sinners, flawed, imperfect, missing the mark no matter how hard we try. But we’re not on our own. Wesley believed God’s grace and Holy Spirit are always at work in our lives and God’s grace can and will do for us what we can’t do ourselves. So Wesley asks, “ Do you expect to be made perfect in love?” That’s God’s work, God’s promise; as St. Paul writes to the Philippians, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12-13). Wesley believed such transformation could happen instantly but for most it was a gradual process; he was convinced he’d met Methodists who were living in a state of perfect love and holiness. I think I attended the funeral of one of those folks; for many years Millie Sunshine Cooper was the Virginia Conference staff person for youth. In the testimony of those leading her service yesterday and in my own personal experience, this humble and dedicated servant of Christ was always motivated and inspired by love for God and love for others on the job and in her daily living up to her last days. Millie may have been somewhat unusual; Wesley thought most believers would be made perfect in love at the moment of death. As I’ve been around dying folks, I’m persuaded he knew what he was talking about; I’ve seen countless folks become one with God in love and mercy at their end.
     But this morning I heard another report of someone who may be living in that state of holiness of life and perfect love. I assume Mohamed Bzeek of Los Angeles is a Muslim, and for the last 20 years he has served as a foster parent to terminally ill children. He has been by the side of nearly a dozen who have taken last breath in his presence. Who does such a thing? Perhaps someone hungry to be like God and to love others with that perfect love. (http://www.npr.org/2017/02/19/516064735/a-foster-parent-for-terminally-ill-children)
     God wants to work this mysterious miracle in our lives. God is on our side, ready to coach and encourage and equip us to become like God, to become love and live in love, to be holy as God is holy. God is not our enemy but a friend; God doesn’t believe we’re just doomed to be what we’ve always been. In high school biology, no matter how long I studied, or how hard I tried I was doomed to D grades. I think the teacher early on decided I was a D student and almost seemed to delight in giving me Ds. And after awhile, I became that D student. I saw myself as that teacher saw me and I gave up, because what was the use?
     I contrast that teacher to one I had in seminary as I studied to be a pastor. Every time I submitted a paper to that professor, there were always challenging questions, and a relentless push to do better. But each time there were also affirmations and encouragement along with new issues raised that made me think more and pulled me closer to excellence. And after awhile I became that student. I didn’t give up; in fact I worked harder, because I knew my professor was for me and saw something I did not see myself and would work tirelessly to get me there.
     That’s the God we see in Jesus, the God who calls us to be made perfect in love, to be the children of God we’re created to be, to do what we’re formed to do – to love God with all we have and to love our neighbor as ourselves with the same mercy and compassion and extravagant grace God has already shown us. It’s a lifetime adventure; we’ll need tune-ups and sharpening and regular upkeep. God will do God’s part; and we have a part, receiving and using God’s sanctifying grace to be transformed into the image and likeness of Christ. My seminary professor tirelessly worked on me week after week, and slowly but surely, with guidance and help I became what I was created to be. In the same way God will work miracles in you and me, with help and guidance along the way. God helps through the church itself with our worship and scripture and prayer and opportunities to love even our enemies and put our faith on the line and into practice. We’re helped by small groups or soul friends who speak the truth in love, and challenge us to holy excellence. Every Christian needs such groups and a soul friend; none of us can make this journey on our own or alone. I didn’t know it then, but nearly 40 years ago here I first met my soul friend who still challenges and encourages me to be better, to be who I am created to be, to be a Christian in word and deed, to be like Jesus. And help can come through the Daily Examen, an ancient form of holy self-exam in the presence of the God who wants nothing for us but life and our good.** In God’s strong and loving arms, at day’s end we can take 15-20 minutes to be still, give thanks for God’s goodness, grace and guidance during the day, look back over a day and how well we lived for Christ or where we fell short, confess our shortcomings and our need for help, and look forward to tomorrow’s opportunities and challenges. It doesn’t seem like much, about as exciting and routine as cutting the grass. But in such ways, miracles happen and sometimes we even learn holiness and perfection, thanks be to God.
-2017, David M. Hindman, soli Deo gloria.
** To learn more about the Daily Examen as a devotional practice, go to http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen

After worship today, where all this happened: Worship Wonderings…

communion-2

It seems so naïve, ridiculous, pitiable, retro and nostalgic, and yet I do it weekly, and sometimes oftener: I’m gathered with others, many grayheads like myself, but others drawn as well to a Table, Font and Lectern, to do what has been done for 20 centuries and more by us who claim to meet there a once executed yet living One.

It seems madly, insanely absurd. And yet nevertheless we do it; I do it. We are foolish enough to know its wisdom and wise enough to see how foolish it must seem to those who wonder why:

I have a hunger that only holiness can feed
Time and space are simply too constraining and eternity is this near and only thinly veiled
Like all things well rooted, I need to be harrowed and tended, pruned and fed, watered and aerated by the Master Gardener
I come to profess for those who doubt some days, counting on that grace to be returned in my need
I am promised that here I can meet Jesus and that makes a difference I cannot bear to be without
I need to sing of something greater than baseball, or grander than this nation
To hear and learn by heart a true Story unique and unlike the illusory and false ones I mostly hear
To confess, give thanks, be still to listen, and remember others before God, trusting they do for me the same
My ears tingle for the Word beyond all words that confronts, challenges, comforts, and changes
I get confused and lost along the way and need a compass to find the Way home
In my darkness I find light and guidance that does not fail
Life is too grand, mad, terriying, beautifully mysterious simply to live its wonder unacknowledged
I gather with those who’ve gone before me and anticipate my gathering unto them
Being and doing, contentment and peace beyond knowing are offered freely but never cheaply
I am met by love, given hope, and fed by faith

And so I come, and go, and am blessed. And I am grateful.

“Ready or Not…” Sermon Based on Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12

TWO IMPORTANT NOTES:
1. This sermon is based on two scripture lessons for the 2nd Sunday in Advent. To more fully understand the sermon, you should read the two texts:
and
2. IN ADDITION, you should click on the link at the end of the sermon to hear a version of the song sung immediately following the sermon (the final paragraph of the sermon serves as a bridge).
          This is the best of all possible worlds. At least that’s what an 18th century German Christian philosopher thought. You’ve probably never heard of Gottfried Leibniz unless you were stuck in a required philosophy course in college, or that’s your last name, and every family reunion is an opportunity to remind folks that you have a connection to him. Leibniz’s thinking went like this: if God is all good and all loving and all knowing and all powerful, this has to be the best of all possible worlds. There is evil in the world, but no more or less than needed to inspire us to goodness. It’s like Goldilocks: not too much or too little, just right.
          But like Goldilocks, it’s a fairy tale. Most philosophers haven’t bought his argument. The best-known and funniest critique came from one of his contemporaries, French writer Voltaire. His satirical novel and its main character have the same name, Candide. As the story begins Candide’s young, innocent and optimistic, but through a crazy series of unfortunate events he moves from a sunny trust that this is the best of all possible worlds to a dark and dismal belief that all you can do is keep your head down and mind your own business.
          I suspect most of us aren’t persuaded either: this is not the best of all possible worlds. Many Americans have just come through a most trying and difficult time– celebrating Thanksgiving at a table where half the relatives think the savior has come in the president-elect and the other half think he’s the anti-Christ; I’m reminded of the woman who warned prior to the meal that if anyone brought up politics she’d personally drown them in the gravy boat. But most may agree that our political system gives breaks to the rich and powerful while the rest of us get the shaft.
          We’re not alone in feeling that the world’s gone off its tracks. This summer United Kingdom voters approved Brexit and leaving the European Union, and all sides were gobsmacked. Today in Austria a deeply contentious and close election is taking place; according to a news source half the voters are increasingly struggling to understand the other half. Many are beginning to wonder if democracy can survive our tumultuous times.
          On smaller but awful scale, last week I read about Yemeni refugees caught in the conflict between Yemen and Saudi Arabia. A mom and dad with several children had to decide: do we use our limited money for medical costs to save a sick child or to feed the others? In the end they decided one would die to save the rest; how do you live with such terrible choosing?*
          In recent weeks in Williamsburg there’s been heated debate about group homes for the mentally ill, with potential neighbors concerned about falling home values or safety. Last week a resident of one of the homes left a suicide note on her bed, went to a local playground and hanged herself.** I wonder if she would’ve done that anyway, or if her darkness grew deeper because she came to believe people like her are frightening or worth less than a piece of property. There was also a 69 year old man arrested for possessing child pornography*** and a dead woman stuffed in a dumpster****. Then there are the everyday traumas: sickness or troubling medical reports, family conflict or divorce, abuse in many forms, a rising tide of vulgarity and disrespect, and horrors we no longer notice, like 15,000 children dying each day from lack of food and basic health care, or more gun related deaths in two years than in two decades in Vietnam. This is not the best of all possible worlds, and we know it deep in our souls.
          But as people of faith, deep in our souls we also know another reality. We’ve been told another story with another vision of the world ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, made new. The Bible has many visions and images portraying that wonderful new thing: swords beaten in plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, instruments of death transformed into tools to cultivate life. Today Isaiah describes a wonderfully changed world led by an ideal ruler utterly guided by God’s Spirit. He always does what’s right; he sees clearly and seeks first and foremost to do God’s will; he judges wisely for the well-being of all, not just a few. In that best of all possible worlds not only human relations are healed and healthy; the whole creation is blessed and at peace. Leopards and baby goats, wolves and lambs are at peace; cows and bears live in harmony; innocent children play safely and unafraid; “they will not hurt or destroy” because the world is as full of the knowledge of God as the ocean is full of water.
          For us followers of Christ that new day and that better world has already begun to take shape in the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It might not look like much, like a nearly unnoticed sprig of green growing out of a tree stump. But for us the hopes and dreams of all the years are met in him; he is that leader filled with Holy Spirit Isaiah saw. Ready or not, he’s the One who comes to show us how to live truly and well, how to love one another, how to humbly serve and forgive and walk a better way. In him that best of all possible worlds has begun to take shape, both in him and in us learning his ways and living his life.
          In Isaiah’s vision the promised coming one is filled with God’s Holy Spirit; that’s how he is able to live in line with God’s will and be the standard bearer for that better way. But did you notice something really important in today’s Gospel story? John the Baptist announces that God’s Empire is taking over; it’s coming ready or not, but if we’re paying attention we’ll get our lives lined up with that new reality. It’s already knocking at the door, coming through someone bringing fire and Holy Spirit. Fire to burn away in us what’s cheap or worthless or not essential; fire to heal and make us pure and holy; and Holy Spirit to give us the strength and power to live a different way, the Jesus way, and to bear good fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. What a gift: we also have a part to play in that new creation taking shape.
          We think we can’t live the Jesus way; on our own we can’t. But Christ comes bringing Holy Spirit power beyond our own so the life that lives in him can be seen in us. That’s what John the Baptist calls us to do: to repent, to go a different way with a different set of eyes and priorities and values and actions following the better Way of the God who comes to us in Christ. Ready or not, he comes.
          The world may not be ready for this new way but I am; I hope you are, too. It’s not an easy way: it put Jesus on a cross. But it’s also a way of joy. The best of all possible worlds comes in small ways and unexpected places as we take up our cross and follow.
          That best of all possible worlds comes at this Table. I love communion because here we lay aside our differences and become one in Christ; even in the presence of our enemies God prepares a feast to give and receive Christ’s peace and love at a Table set for all.
          That best of all possible worlds comes as the Holy Spirit guides and helps us to be peacemakers in the midst of strife and harsh words and feelings, or we opt for humility and make a mockery of pride and arrogance, or we choose peace by working for justice, or we speak up and stand with any who feel threatened or at risk or afraid because they’re different or live on the margins. Ready or not, Christ comes here and now in the hungry poor, the stranger or the immigrant refugee family fleeing like Christ’s fled Herod; ready or not Christ comes in those imprisoned in mind or body or spirit; every kind word returned for meanness, every act of gentleness to tone down anger, every choice to listen instead of shout, every mercy shown, every forgiveness offered is a Holy Spirit empowered commitment to live now in Christ.
          Such things aren’t easy, but with God all things are possible. We can’t do them on our own; we need God’s fiery Holy Spirit and each other. We need the church so we can keep hearing and telling these stories and seeing these visions; we need one another to hold us accountable and challenge and help us walk that better way. These habits of the heart we learn and practice together change us, and the world. God’s Empire comes; God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven. The best of all possible worlds takes shape and becomes real, here, now.
          It feels like we’re in the midst of a terrific turmoil and tumult, thunder and lightning waking us in the night. But here’s the promise and the hope we have in Christ – the great storm’s over; its power’s been broken in Christ’s coming. A better day’s already dawning: sweetness in the air, justice on the wind. Can you smell Christ’s sweetness in the Spirit’s bracing breeze? The deaf shall have music, the blind new eyes; release for the captives, an end to the wars; new streams in the desert, new hope for the poor. Like a mother the church sings to us of a love that has conquered the powers of hell, and will keep singing till the Bridegroom Christ’s final return. Sisters and brothers let go your fear; the Lord loves his own and still comes near, so lift up your wings, and fly, and live, thanks be to God.
2016, David M. Hindman, soli Deo gloria.

Thanksgiving on the Cusp of Advent

(PERSONAL NOTE: The last Sunday in the church year can focus either on Thanksgiving or on Christ the King as it anticipates the beginning of the new year and the season of Advent. This year’s Epistle text for November 20 could be used for Thanksgiving or Christ the King with its focus on giving thanks and the nearness of God. What follows is my musing on that text and how those two aspects of reality might relate to one another.)
“The Lord is near; do not be anxious, but in everything make your requests known to God in prayer and petition with thanksgiving. Then the peace of God, which is beyond all understanding, will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.”  (Philippians 4:5b-7, REB)
          It sounds too easy, “in everything make your requests known to God in prayer and petition with thanksgiving.” This is not something you simply will yourself to do; it is not as easy to learn as your ABCs. Sometimes we preachers speak glibly about this challenging, daunting imperative issued by St. Paul; we turn gratitude into yet another thing we must do if we are to be good Christians, and as a result we are given yet one more reason to feel guilty because we don’t measure up to this high standard. Apparently we can’t pull ourselves up by our own spiritual bootstraps, so if we are not able in everything to be thankful, it’s our fault or our own failure of faith, or a spiritual work we are too weak to accomplish.
          But seriously!? In all things pray with thanksgiving? How is that possible? How is that possible for Syrian refugees who have fled for their lives only to meet a wall of hostility and suspicion? How is that possible for the Palestinian farmer whose olive trees have just been bulldozed by Israeli Defense Forces with no excuse needed or legal recourse available? How is that possible for the person wrongly imprisoned but lacking funds to pursue DNA testing and the needed legal counsel? How is that possible for the mother mourning her dead child, or the man who recently received the news that his cancer has returned and he needs to get his affairs in order? How can a child of color or a GLBTQ young adult or a Muslim give thanks in all times and all places when their welcome and place in society is not as sure and certain as it was a month ago?   There are times when we cannot on our own imagine giving thanks always, and the thought of doing so dries our mouth, clogs our throat, and turns God once again into a cruel taskmaster who asks the impossible of us.
          Perhaps that is the clue. It is not left solely to us; such gratitude is not a task but a promise; not a burden but a blessed gift. Perhaps the solution to the riddle is found in the beginning of the text: “The Lord is near.” Perhaps that is how we can be thankful; we are not alone and the Lord is near us even in our most godforsaken circumstances. It is a great mystery, but a deep truth – when we feel most abandoned, alone and forgotten, God is most near to console, comfort, strengthen and encourage. One of the most powerful scenes in the Jesus story, as told by Mark and Matthew, is when Jesus on the cross cries in agony and despair, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And yet it is there that an onlooker is persuaded that he truly is God’s Son, God’s messenger to us, God with us in the flesh. As a modern affirmation puts it, “In life, in death, in life beyond death, we are not alone; God is with us. Thanks be to God.”
          In seminary one of my professors told the story of receiving news on Christmas Eve that a young father in the church had died suddenly and unexpectedly while shopping that afternoon; now he was needed to go to the man’s home to break the news to his children and wife. My professor recalled walking with a heavy heart up the sidewalk toward the house bright with decorations and lights; through the glass door he could see children scampering before the tree, awaiting with expectation and excitement the father who would not be coming home. With one word my mentor knew he could destroy their Christmas joy, their hopes and dreams, and extinguish the light in their lives. But he also knew another Word that could somehow see them through: Immanuel, God with us. The father would not be returning home, but by God’s grace and generosity they knew a Father who would love and comfort and strengthen them and would never leave or forsake them, even in their most forsaken time.
          It is that nearness that allows us to be grateful – not for every thing that happens to us but for the promise that we are not alone and today’s disappointment and distress will not have the final say in our lives. The Lord is near; there is another Actor on the stage beyond us and today’s terrors, and beside us with a mystical holy Presence and in the nearness of others in Christ’s Body we have been given to “bear the load and hold the Christ light for us.” The Lord is near – somehow we are given a gift to know and trust that promise – and can count on other faithful folks to claim that hope for us and to trust it for us when our faith is frail and our hope is dim. And the promise is not that we can achieve all this on our own – we can’t. The promise is that as we lean into those everlasting arms and rest in that near Presence, we are given one more gift – peace that is beyond our understanding and comprehension, but real nevertheless, to guard our hearts and minds and see us through. And for that we can always give thanks.

Table Manners: Sermon Based on Mark 7:24-27

 Following the murders in Charleston, SC, of nine Christians engaged in Bible study at Mother Emanuel AME Church, the bishops of that denomination called on people of faith across our land to focus the weekend of September 5-7 on Confession, Repentance, Prayer and Commitment to End Racism.  As is often the case, the lectionary of readings for this Sunday provided a providentially apt set of readings relevant to this prayerful call by the bishops (which was echoed by Young Jin Cho, my own United Methodist bishop here in Virginia.  Here is what the Spirit brought me to say as I sought to bear witness to God’s Word yesterday at Highland Springs UMC in Highland Springs, VA.  

I have a confession to make – in 42 years of ministry I’ve never preached on this text. I avoided it because quite frankly, it doesn’t paint a pretty picture of Jesus. His table manners might’ve been socially acceptable in his day but they’re still rather crude and rude. If we like gentle Jesus meek and mild, always caring and kind, he’s not here. It’s troubling and unsettling and takes us where we’d rather not go.

In Mark’s story Jesus is traveling in the area of modern day Lebanon. He needs to recharge his batteries and doesn’t want anyone to know where he is. But here comes this woman looking for help. Poor Jesus can’t get a break or a day off.

Mark describes her as Syro-Phoenician, a Gentile. The Greek says she’s a Hellenist; inMatthew’s gospel she’s even worse – a Canaanite. In other words she’s the worst kind of outsider. In the Bible Canaanites are always the bad guys; in Jewish history the Hellenists caused some of the worst persecutions Jews ever faced. And Jews weren’t really sure Gentiles were human, so Jesus’ harsh attitude toward this woman fit right in with his time and culture.
Add to that, she’s a woman. In Jesus’ day women and men who aren’t family just don’t deal with each other; women know their place and stay in it. But here she is, uninvited into the house looking for Jesus out to ask a favor.

Now she is respectful and humble; Mark says she falls atJesus’ feet to beg him to heal her little girl. Who could turn away and not feel pity for her? Apparently Jesus can.

And he does it in a rather crass and cruel way. In our reading Jesus says, “It’s not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” It’s as if Jesus says, “Don’t bother me or waste my time. I’ve got better things to dothan deal with people like you.” Ouch.

One more thing really stings and hurts here. We see dogs and puppies as cute and cuddly, warm and fuzzy. We love them. That’s not how they’re seen in Jesus’ day. They’re wild scavengers; curs to be kicked aside and chased away. Dogs are more trouble than they’re worth. Basically Jesus calls this woman and her daughter dogs, female dogs. At its worst Jesus may be guilty of using the B word on them. Truth be told, Jesus sounds like a sexist racist.

But there is good news here. I love that Jesus’ is so human. We Christians claim a great mystery: Jesus is both fully divine and fully human.   Sometimes we want to smooth the raw edges in our picture of Jesus, but scripture says he was like us in every way, except without sin. He’s a creature of his own day and time; a first century Jew, part of a culture that sees women and non-Jews in a particular way. There’s no sin in that. The sin would be to stay that way when given a better, wiser way that’s more like God’s ways.

That’s what this woman does for Jesus. She opens his eyes wider to see more clearly. She’s the only person in the New Testament who gets the best of Jesus in an argument. I love that. Jesus rudely dismisses her; but she’s a Momma in need and won’t take “No” for an answer with her little girl’s life on the line. Jesus tells her, “It’ not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” But she comes right back, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Take that, Jesus. Even Gentiles, Syro-Phoenicians, Canaanites, women and dogs have a place at God’s table of grace and mercy and healing and hope.

Just before this story, Jesus has a huge slap fight with Jewish religious leaders who are too focused on doing everything just so. Jesus rants at them, “You are so busy holding on to human traditions that you let go of God’s commandments.” And here’s this woman holding Jesus’ feet to the fire challenging him for doing the very same thing. Whoa.

Jesus is like us in every way except sin. The sin would be for Jesus to hold onto the human tradition of treating some better than others, as if there are 1st and 2nd class citizens. Thanks to this woman, Jesus’ very human eyes are opened to see that God’s ways are even greater and broader and wider than Jesus first thought. And Jesus changes his ways and his mind and his heart to match up to God.  He is converted and tells the woman, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.”

Typically Jesus connects healing with faith; here it’s the woman’s reasoning that produces the miracle. Her logic brings the change not only to her daughter, but to Jesus, too.

I love the way Mark tells his tale. In chapter 6 Jesus feeds 5000 Jews with bread and fish. In this chapter Jesus says the children’s bread shouldn’t be given to dogs but his mind is changed. That’s what conversion is. And in chapter 8 Jesus again provides bread to a crowd., but this time it’s Gentiles he feeds because he has compassion on them. Even Jesus can grow to see God’s ways in new ways; he’s blessed because of this woman God uses to make it happen.

That’s good news for us, too, because we’re Gentiles. We’re the outsiders Jesus might have missed without her opening his eyes and heart.

And there’s more good news. If the Son of God can grow in his understanding of God’s ways, so can we. If Jesus can be blessed through the honest wise words of another, so can we. We need each other; we need church folks to be open and honest with us to challenge and stretch us to live more fully for God.  That’s what it means to be church, the Body of Christ together.

Some of us grew up in a time and place and that was deeply racist and sexist. There’s no sin in that. The sin is to stay there. Jesus doesn’t stay with his limited attitudeafter his encounter with this woman in need, and we don’t have to stay tied to old, small ways, either.

Our world still doesn’t fully reflect God’s broad bright ways; Jesus still groans as he heals. Racism and prejudice are alive among us, maybe in our own hearts. Some say we have to say “Black Lives Matter” because in many ways our culture says they really don’t matter.

After the racially hate-filled murders of nine of our brothers and sisters in Christ in South Carolina, African Methodist Episcopal Church bishops asked Christians across US to join today in confession, repentance, prayer and commitment to end racism. Our own Bishop Cho made that call to us as well.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, we can’t stay deaf and mute to this cancer still eating at our soul. Healing comes as we listen and learn from those who are different, with different life experiences. Blessing comes as we allow ourselves like the Lord Jesus to be challenged and changed by truth heard in unexpected places.  In my own life I thank God for the honest hard words and the humble life of a guy named Ben Nelson, my pastor during my teen years. God used him to convert and change this narrow-minded racist boy toward the better way of Christ. It’s true – the gospel really is that powerful and wonderful.

This winter I talked with some Randolph-Macon College students of color about their life on that largely white campus. It wasn’t easy to hear what they said, but I’m glad they told me the truth. I told them not to stay silent, and one woman said that’s hard: white folks can feel guilty and she didn’t want to hurt our feelings. But I said I hoped she’d speak up anyway because that’s how healing and conversion and better days come.

Today we come to be fed today at this table where the Lord is again present. Let us confess and repent of whatever keeps us from walking God’s wide way of grace for all; ask for healing so we won’t be deaf to the stories of our brothers and sisters and silent no more in the face of racism or prejudice. Like the woman long ago let us fall on our knees and ask for mercy for us and our land and make a new commitment to the loving way of Jesus; then our table manners will be worthy of the One who calls and heals and welcomes us all, thanks be to God.

A Sermon Based on 2 Kings 2:10-12, 3:8-14; and John 6:51-58

For some college students, the only thing more frightening and uncertain than starting college is graduating.   Especially if they don’t know what they’re doing after the big day, or if they’re still waiting to hear from graduate school or job applications, the future can seem uncertain and unsettling.

When I was the United Methodist campus minister at William and Mary, each year I would write a final letter of blessing and encouragement to students preparing to leave campus for the wider world. Many expressed gratitude for a prayer I included in the note. The prayer wasn’t mine but that of Thomas Merton, a 20th century Catholic monk, who prayed,

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”  (Thoughts in Solitude, 1956)

To be a person of faith even while stepping out into an unknown future on an unfamiliar path: that was my prayer for those students setting out from William and Mary.

It’s a prayer I could have prayed at the beginning of the adventure of parenthood. On the day my oldest was born I looked in wonder at him and said in all honesty and humility, “Son you’ve to be good because your mother and I have absolutely no idea what to do with you.”

And after 42 years of active ministry, I’m having to figure out this new and unfamiliar path called retirement. Thomas Merton’s prayer still rings true in this season of life, too.

The prayer could also have been prayed by Solomon as he began the new and unfamiliar duties and responsibilities as King of Israel. Today’s scripture tells us that Solomon’s father King David has died after ruling for forty years. Early in Solomon’s reign, so the story goes, God comes to him in a dream and asks Solomon what God can give him as he begins to rule the kingdom. He could have asked for anything, but Solomon asks for wisdom to rule well as he prays, “Give your servant…an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?” In the story God is pleased with Solomon’s prayer, and grants him a wise and discerning mind, and encourages the young king always to walk in God’s ways and pay attention to God’s good counsel. And so tradition holds that Solomon’s wisdom is associated with biblical books like Proverbs and Ecclesiastes.

After our reading today, the story is told of Solomon acting wisely and discerning between good and evil. Two women are brought before him, each claiming that a baby belongs to her. Obviously this is before DNA and blood tests and both women seem equally committed mothers, so how to decide which is the right woman?   Solomon calls for a sword and offers to cut the child in half and give each woman a portion; one woman agrees. But the other cries out in grief and despair not to do such a thing, but give the child to the other woman and spare his life. When she makes that offer, Solomon knows she is the true mother and gives her son back to her. Wisdom has been given; Solomon’s prayer has been answered.

In later years Solomon won’t always act so nobly or wisely. He’ll be drawn from God’s ways to the world’s ways, pursuing wealth at all cost. He’ll marry 700 wives because he can, or as part of political alliances with other rulers. And if they’re not enough to satisfy his needs he’ll also have 300 concubines or sex workers ready at his beck and call; he’ll oppress his people and force them to work on building projects without pay, much less a minimum or a living wage; and when he dies he’ll leave his self-absorbed, self-centered son who’s gotten everything he’s wanted a kingdom on the edge of civil war to take it over the edge. If only Solomon sought the heart of God and a wise discerning mind all his days, not just his first.

Every day we receive is a new day full of possibility and uncertainty. The Lord Jesus said that the great commandment is to love God with all we have and to love our neighbor as ourselves. The apostle Paul wrote to the Galatians that Christ has set us free and we shouldn’t fall back into any kind of slavery to the ways of the world or it’s values, or to our own selfish desires and emotions and attitudes than can bind us in chains. The 5th century African bishop Augustine said we Christians are to love God and do what we will. So how do we gain a heart of wisdom to discern good and evil when we have such broad guidelines and markers for life’s map? The challenge is to be wise enough to know how to live most freely and fully for God, and to be about our Father’s business, just like the Lord Jesus, from his growing up until his death on a cross.

When my dad died years ago, my mom took the opportunity when making his funeral arrangements, to make her own. I called it her Lay Away plan. She didn’t need it for many years; her biggest challenge was replacing her planned pallbearers. They kept becoming too weak to serve, or just up and died on her.   But her plan was a great gift to me when the time finally arrived for her departure into God’s new life. She’d thought of everything, including listing her favorite scripture lessons, which we used finally for her service of Death and Resurrection. One of the texts was from the book of Proverbs, a collection of wise sayings and teachings often associated with Solomon, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (KJV). Another translation puts it, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Never rely on what you think you know. Remember the Lord in everything you do, and he will show you the right way” (GNB).

The blessed good news is that in Christ we’ve been given a faithful guide for the right way. Remember how the 12 year old Jesus is described as growing in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and others. And you may remember that in 1 Corinthians Paul describes Christ as the wisdom of God and the power of God. In Christ’s life we are shown, in the flesh, what a wise life looks like: it’s marked by mercy and kindness, compassion and forgiveness and humility; we see the wisdom of caring for the weak and forgotten and those who are broken and in need of healing. As Paul says, there is no law against such things; it surely is a wise way to walk. I’m convinced that as we pray and listen for God and gather in worship with others also seeking God’s good way, and as we serve those Christ served and loved, we won’t spend ourselves and our days chasing after the wind or things that in the end do not satisfy; we will find a life that really is life.

When Mother Teresa visited the United States the first time, she’d already spent a lifetime serving the poorest of the poor in India. But in our land of prosperity and plenty she marveled that she’d never seen a more malnourished people. Like Solomon we can have anything our heart desires, but oftentimes our houses full of stuff and our calendars full of busyness leave us empty and unsatisfied. But as we ask for wisdom, Christ still gives it. As he did long ago he offers the bread of life that truly feeds our deepest hungers and offers a better way. That way seems odd and even off putting in a world where forgiveness seems weak and the powerful seem in charge and apologies are never made for anything. But the way of Jesus, the wisdom and power of God, leads to our heart’s truest and deepest desires, thanks be to God.