Today's Sermon - 4th Sunday in Lent - Do Not Judge

Do Not Judge

(based on Matthew 7:1-5)

Stephen Covey, the famous author of “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”, as well as other publications, told a story of riding on a New York subway one Sunday morning.  People were sitting quietly until a man and his children entered the subway car, the man sat next to Covey, while the children ran wild through the car, yelling, throwing things and just plain misbehaving.  Meanwhile the dad sat there next to Covey and did absolutely nothing.

Judgments were made about the man’s neglectful parenting as he just sat there, as if in a trance, completely ignoring his children’s misbehavior.

Finally, Covey broke the man’s apparent neglect with an appeal that he get control of his children.  The dad turned and looked at Covey and responded with these unexpected words, “Oh, you’re right.  I guess I should do something about it.  We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago.  I don’t know what to think, and I guess they don’t know how to handle it either.”  

Covey then talks about how, in an instant, his attitude toward the dad was changed.  He moved from judging criticism to compassion as he saw things as they really were and not just how they appeared to be.

When Jesus says, “Judge not, that you be not judged,” He is not suggesting that we set aside our ability to look at things critically or to discern the difference between what is good and what is evil.  He isn’t suggesting that we should never try to help a friend by a gentle word of correction.  God has blessed us with a critical apparatus that helps us navigate through life.  Christians are supposed to be discerning.  As John put it in his first letter to the church, we “test the spirits” as we follow Christ.  We are supposed to confront evil when we see it.  And we have an obligation and responsibility as Christians to speak up for the good.

Jesus’ command not to judge others is rather a warning against a prideful critical spirit which is quick to make conclusions about the character or behavior of others.  Everyone of us has been Covey on that bus in various situations, writing the story in our heads about the dad’s neglectful parenting.  In this passage, Jesus is confronting hypocritical judgment which sees only the sins of others and not one’s own sins.

This explains Jesus’ humorous hyperbole of trying to remove a speck in another’s eye while we have a two-by-four in our own.  The picture shows us how ludicrous it is for us to judge others without having judged ourselves.  If we are to point out a friend’s sins, we do so from a clear vision of our own sins.  We are supposed to come at moral criticism humbly as a fellow sinner, not as a righteous judge.  God is the only truly righteous judge.  God alone judges from a posture of perfection.

Clearly Jesus has a specific target here in this passage and that target is the Pharisees who absolutely delighted in finger-pointing and judging others.  Jesus unveils their hypocrisy to his listeners as they righteously and indignantly play God and mercilessly judge the behavior of others.  The Pharisees hadn’t always been so critical without fully acknowledging their own sin.  But over time, these guardians of community morality had “assumed the bench”, the one reserved for God alone.  Jesus shows that they have been disqualified from the bench by their own hypocrisy.  And he warns them that they will be the victims of the same kind of merciless judgment from God.

If you remember another story, it was Jesus who once stepped into a scene of Pharisees ready to stone a woman caught in adultery.  They tested Jesus, asking if the law of Moses was right in saying that such a woman should be stoned.  In that story, Jesus wrote on the ground with his finger and then said, “Let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone at her” (John 8:7).  They walked away, one by one.  We aren’t told what Jesus wrote in the ground, but from their reaction, we might assume that he wrote down the sins that each of them had committed, perhaps in secret, unbeknownst to their fellow Pharisees.  At the conclusion of the sand writing, none were left to throw even a pebble at the woman.  Did that excuse the woman from her sin?  No.  When they had all gone, Jesus asked her, “Who is left to condemn you?”  The Woman replied, “No one sir?”  And he said to her, “Then neither do I.  Go on your way and sin no more.”  Jesus forgave her the sins of her past and told her to go on her way, but to sin no more.  What’s interesting about this passage is that the Pharisees were just as guilty of their own sins, but they received no such forgiveness and more than likely continued on with their same behavior.

Jesus spent much of his ministry under the watchful, plank-in-the-eye Pharisees.  They called him a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of sinners.  They even said he was in league with the devil because he could cast out demons.  Ultimately, they pointed at Jesus and charged him with blasphemy.

In his trial before the Sanhedrin, he was asked if he was the Messiah, the Son of God.  He answered, “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming with the clouds of heaven” (Mark 14:62).  The high priest tore his robe and said, “What further witnesses do we need?  You have heard his blasphemy.  What is your decision?” (Mark 14:63-64).  And they condemned him to death.  The Pharisees had written their own story of Jesus.  Their prejudice and injustice were driven by self-righteousness, jealousy and fear.  They could not see clearly with such huge planks in their eyes.

We, too, are not immune from self-righteous judgment.  I hear Christians being hypocritical all the time.  And we judge certain sins harshly and completely ignore others.  We may look across a gathering of God’s people and begin writing our own stories of where this person falls short and how that person has failed.  All along, as we judge others, we can fail to see the planks in our own eyes.

The great irony of the cross comes as the perfect Judge, the one “who will come again to judge the living and the dead,” is falsely accused, convicted and executed.  The Judge of all is judged unjustly.  In that judgment gone wrong, God amazingly works a unique kind of justice.  

I have often heard that God’s justice requires sacrifice.  That God’s wrath at humanity’s sin requires blood and death and that was why Christ died on the cross for you and me.  Where God points the accusing finger, not at us, but at Jesus instead as a propitiation for our sins.  I believe that God works out a unique kind of justice at the cross, a kind that would follow Christ’s example in life.  I don’t believe that the cross was God’s idea.  It was ours.  In our need for an eye for an eye kind of justice, I have to wonder if God listened to us cry for blood and offered His own.  I don’t believe that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross was meant to sate God’s wrath, but rather it was to show God’s response to ours.   God puts grace in play and rewrites the story.  This is much more than the story of an innocent victim of injustice.  This is God sending Jesus to suffer and die as a response to our need for justice, our list of sins.  Among those sins are every hasty judgment we’ve made of another’s character, every hurtful word of criticism, every attitude warped by prejudice or fear.

The next time we are ready to write the story of another’s failure or another’s sin, I hope we remember what happened at the cross.  I hope we see the plank in our own eye and our own sins.  Then, as it always is with God, judgment will be tempered with grace.  Amen.

Today's Sermon - 3rd Week in Lent - Don't Worry

Don’t Worry

(based on Matthew 6:25-34)

In Guatemala and parts of Mexico, they have something called a worry doll.  These very small dolls, usually less than two inches high, are made of wire and cloth and are given to children as ”friends” with whom they can share their worries and fears.  The dolls are said to be rooted in Mayan folklore which tells of the sun god giving a princess a gift to help her face her fears.  Mostly tourists buy the dolls today.  But not to be outdone in the worry trade, other cultures have created similar objects such as; Greek worry beads which are very similar to Rosary beads.  There Native American worry stones passed on from one generation to another creating a sense of connection from previous family members.  Worry stones also have connection to ancient Irish and Tibetan cultures.  Today they are mass produced in the US, sometimes etched with inspirational messages on them to replace the worry.  And I’ve even seen a worry cross – often marketed as a “Caring Cross”, a smooth piece of wood or resin in the shape of a cross, but with a thumb worn indentation to rub your worries onto.

Some child psychologists use the concept created by the Mayans of a worry doll approach to a child’s anxiety, offering a more life-sized doll to a child as an imaginary friend to whom they can tell their deep secrets.  So, this anxiety we have for tomorrow starts early.  Our fear of the future can paralyze us in the present, leaving us burdened or even immobilized.  T.M. Luhrmann, wrote in an article called, “The Anxious Americans”.  It was published in the New York Times in 2015.  Luhrmann wrote that Americans spend over $2 billion a year on anti-anxiety medication.  We are among the most anxious and medicated nations on earth.  We worry about having enough money, our health, our appearance, our relationships, our jobs and just about everything else.  We can even worry about whether we should be worried or not.

Almost 500 years ago, French essayist Michel de Montaigne wrote: “My life has been filled with terrible misfortune, most of which never happened.”  In other words, it was all in his imagination.  His worst fears never materialized.  Anxiety is frightened imagination focused on the worst of what might happen.  A friend and I were talking about this just the other day.  We can worry and prepare for all kinds of things that might happen, but usually none of them ever do; instead, something else comes along to thwart our plans or even change our lives.

This anxiety that we feel is nothing new; people in during Christ’s day got anxious about the future, too.  Their anxieties were more basic than most of ours, however.  Things like: What will they eat?  What will they drink?  What will they wear?  But their worry about tomorrow followed the same pattern that ours do.  Their fears drove them to imagine the worst.

In the teachings of Christ, fear is often the enemy of faith.  You might expect it to be doubt, but no, it is often fear.  So, for instance, when his disciples panic as a storm comes up over Lake Galilee, he asks them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” (Mt 8:26).  In fact, the phrase, “do not be afraid”, or “do not fear” occurs nearly 365 times in the Bible (interestingly – one, for every day of the year).  And the word “doubt” in relationship to faith only occurs about 20 times.  So, when Jesus addresses our anxieties, it’s not surprising that he makes it an issue of faith.  In order to help us get a handle on our fear and worry, he has us look to God’s creation, how God takes care of the birds of the air and the lilies and grass of the field.

There is a beautiful lesson to an even greater argument here.  It runs as follows: If God the Creator cares for the birds and lilies and grass he has created, how much more will God, our heavenly Father, care for us, his children.  There is also a beautiful irony here, that these lesser creatures of God should teach us nervous human beings, the crown of God’s creation, something about God’s provision.  A little sparrow here, a fragrant lily there, tasseled grasses blowing gently in the wind—they are but a chorus of witnesses to the trustworthy care God gives to every corner of creation, including us.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book called The Problem of Pain, a study of the Scriptures.  In it he identified four great analogies in the Bible for God’s love toward us.  They are in ascending order.  First is the love of an artist toward her creation, the way a potter loves her cup or bowl fresh off the wheel.  This is God’s relationship with the birds and the lilies, His creations.  Second is the love of a master for a beast, the way a shepherd loves his sheep, the way you may love your dog, or your cat.  Third is the love of a parent for a child, the way a waiting dad graciously welcomes home a runaway son.  This is where we fit in here in the Sermon on the Mount.  We are God’s children, not just His creation, and God will love us to the end.  And fourth is the love of one spouse for the other, how they faithfully support, care for, and encourage one another as a single unit.

So, Jesus is telling us that the antidote to worry and anxiety is trust in God’s proven love for us.  He is not saying that bad things won’t happen to us, nor is he saying that we can sit back and wait to be fed like Elijah in the desert who was near death and was fed by the ravens.  Jesus is not giving us permission to give up working for what we eat or to stop praying for what we need.  This is Jesus saying that trust in God’s prevailing, persistent love displaces anxiety.  Which is exactly why Paul wrote in Philippians 4:6, “Don’t be anxious about anything, but by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God”.  Acts of trust like prayer and thanksgiving displace worry.

And there is more.  Jesus says that we are to “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you” (v 33).  To “seek first the kingdom” is to value our relationship with God over everything else.  It is to love the Lord most deeply.  To seek “his righteousness” is to delight in and follow the Lord’s Will for your life wholeheartedly, with everything you’ve got.  Every day, we shouldn’t be worried about what will happen next, but rather we show pray for enlightenment, courage, and boldness to follow God’s plan for our lives. 

Perhaps in the middle of Lent, it is somehow less overwhelming to hear Christ’s call to trust.  We live closer to the cross these days and find our truth there, sub cruce veritas, which in Latin means “truth under the cross”.  Under the cross, closer to Christ, we can perhaps hear both his whispers and shouts a bit better.  Because at the end of his suffering, we can hear him say, “Father, ...”  And in dying he falls into his Father’s arms, entrusting tomorrow and the next day to God’s providence.  May our own lives be so trustingly given.  It may seem like an ending.  It may seem like tomorrow has arrived and the worst has happened.  But what we find most during Lent during our concentration here at the cross is that God is listening, caring and still providing for his beloved Son and for us, his beloved children.  Oh, yes, this is a Father who can be trusted.  So, we can put down our worry dolls or worry beads or worry stones or worry crosses and rest, simply and most assuredly in God’s great love for each and every one of us.   

Today's Sermon for the 2nd week in Lent - Praying and Fasting

Praying and Fasting

(based on Matthew 6:1-18)

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had my battles with instructions that come with something that I’ve purchased on how to put it together.  It could be a toy or a bookshelf or something much more complicated.  And over the years, I’ve purchased way too many “some assembly required” merchandise.  Now, when I see that listed on the item, I usually look for another product that’s already put together.

Because, at times it has felt like either, the technical writers are out to get me or that I don’t understand the rudimentary logic of plain old pictures that are supposed to illustrate the next step.  More than once I’ve had to disassemble something and try a second time to assemble it correctly, all the while feeling that there was a conspiracy afoot to make my life miserable.  More than once I’ve thought, “Why not first tell me how not to do it, and then tell me how to do it right?”

Well, this is essentially what Jesus does in the Sermon on the Mount with three great pillars of Judaism—giving to the poor, prayer and fasting. Clearly these three spiritual disciplines are core practices for Christ and we should still be practicing them today in our Christian faith.  Jesus wants us to know how we can get it wrong and then how we can get it right.

Just before our text, in verses 1-4, Jesus has addressed giving to the poor.  He makes it clear how not to give and then he tells us how we are to give.  We are not to make a big show of one’s giving, doing it publicly so as to be seen.  It would be like making sure you place your check in the offering plate face up so that the next person or the usher can see how generous you are.  That’s how not to give.

The right way to give, though, Jesus says, is to give privately or in secret, keeping the gift between you and God alone.  Those who give the wrong way; the showy, public way, they already have their reward, Jesus says.   People have noticed them—which is just what they wanted.  Those who give the right way; the righteous way, on the other hand, their rewards are “in secret”, deep within a loving, growing relationship with their heavenly Father.

Jesus’ concern here is not necessarily how we do it, but rather our inner motivation for doing something—in other words, where our heart is.  Is our heart invested in God or is it with ourselves?  Is our heart focused on what God thinks or with what others think of us?  Jesus wants our giving to the poor to be deeply embedded in our relationship with God, not in our pride or our need for immediate recognition.

Jesus then goes on to address the other two acts of spiritual discipline—prayer and fasting.  In Lent especially, we Christians may perk up more readily to Jesus’ thoughts on these practices. His comments are structured just the same way—how not to pray and how to pray, how not to fast and how to fast.

His focus here is very similar to his teaching on giving to the poor. The wrong way to put a prayer together, Jesus says, is to be sure others see and hear you praying in the synagogue or out in the streets—showmanship again.  The wrong way to put a prayer together, he says, is to think that a prayer’s value is in its length or in its use of key phrases repeated over and over again, or in its ability to impress those around you. 

So, what is the right way to pray?  Find a quiet place, a secluded space and there simply speak with God.  Let out all of your concerns and worries for yourself and for others.  Don’t be afraid to be emotional if you need to be.  Don’t be afraid to share your doubts and anger.  Don’t hold back; let God have it all.  You won’t get any applause for your prayer, yet your relationship with God will grow exponentially just as any relationship flourishes with deep and rich conversation.

Then Jesus goes one step further with the right way to pray.  He says, “Pray like this,” and gives us “The Lord’s Prayer.”  This is a model prayer, which in no way limits what we may take to the Lord in prayer.  It doesn’t teach us in a limiting sense what to pray for, but rather models how to pray. “Pray like this ...”

As Jesus prays with us, we hear how he places our prayer into our relationship with God.  Abba – Father.  And we pray with others as you see all the pronouns are plural – Our Father – Give us this day….).  And we don’t pray to a distant, unfamiliar god but instead to a listening, loving, protecting, providing parental God, who has all authority “in heaven” yet who is close at hand. The first three petitions reveal our humility before God’s name (“hallowed be thy name”) God’s kingdom (“thy kingdom come”), and God’s will (thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”).

The model prayer Jesus gives us has no lengthy, run-on sentences, no long-winded background because God already knows all that, instead Jesus’ model prayer is made in simple, heartfelt requests.  We pray for our everyday needs, for forgiveness for ourselves and of others, and for strength in temptation and deliverance from evil.  

Jesus goes on to do much the same with the practice of fasting.  It’s one that we don’t talk enough about.  But the wrong way to fast is to put on a miserable face in public to show how difficult our fast is and how pious we are.  The right way to fast, as the right way to give and to pray, is to do so privately.  Along the way of fasting, Jesus again promises great rewards, as we give up the material to focus on the spiritual, which is the main purpose of fasting.  It’s not so much about the misery of giving up something of material substance, but rather on the focus of gaining something spiritually fulfilling in its place.  Those rewards are rooted deep in our relationship with our heavenly Father.

Jesus practiced prayer and fasting in his time on earth.  He had his favorite secret places for prayer.  One was the Garden of Gethsemane in Jerusalem.  There in blood and sweat, he took the third petition of the Lord’s Prayer to its deepest level.  He prayed, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me.  Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Lk 22:42). His prayer and fasting took him to give up his own will in order to fulfill his Father’s will instead.  Ours is meant to do the same.  May our season of Lent inspire to find the right way in giving, prayer and fasting.  AMEN.

Note: This sermon is part of a series from Creative Communications for the Parish.  Every now and then I like to take a break from coming up with new sermon material, especially during high holy seasons.  There's always so much else going on, as well.  I have found Creative Communications for the Parish to be particularly helpful when I have a "block" and can't think of anything new to say.  However, I often adapt much of the material to my own style, adding and subtracting illustrations or phrases.

* taken and adapted from Dean Nadasdy of Creative Communications for the Parish.

Today's Sermon - Transfiguration Sunday 3/3/19 - Building Temples

Building Temples

(based on Luke 9:26-35)

          When have you recently experienced beauty?  What are some of your most beautiful experiences?  Before you answer that, let me explain exactly what I mean.  I am not asking when you saw something you thought was beautiful.  I am not asking about physical beauty, the outward appearance of people or things.  I’m asking about moments and situations in which you experienced and participated in beauty not so much with your eyes or mind, but with your heart and soul, not as an object but as a presence greater than ourselves.  A moment when we are grasped and enfolded by the beauty we experience, and it shapes and forms our lives leaving us forever changed.

          The beauty that I am speaking about can’t really be defined.  It can only be encountered and experienced.  It’s more than what our words can describe but it is often named by our breathless wonder and tears of complete joy.  I’m hoping that all of you have experienced at least one moment like this when the beauty of that moment fills your heart and soul with such wonder that it fills that space within us that we didn’t even know was empty until that precise moment.

          I can’t completely explain what I mean by this or how it happens, so let me give you some examples of my experiences with it.  Perhaps that will prompt or help you to recognize and recall some of your own.

          I remember flying out to Denver, Colorado and renting a car to drive down through the western part of the state toward New Mexico.  I stopped one afternoon above a Rocky Mountain town called Ouray.  Surrounded by the magnificent mountains, which framed the little town in glorious splendor, watching people walking along the sidewalks going in and out of shops, hearing the voices of children playing in the park, and the sound of water rushing down the stream, I was so filled with the beauty of God’s creation, both natural and of our own making, that I could barely breathe for a moment.  It was awesome and beautiful.

          I remember one of my trips to Alaska and the breathless wonder of the expanse of our world.  Our mission group had flown from Pittsburgh to Seattle, then from Seattle to Juneau.  We dropped off our luggage at the ferry station then took taxis to the pier in Juneau to go on a whale-watching tour.  22 of us on a small boat with the captain.  Out on the Gulf of Alaskan in the Pacific Ocean, giant humpback whales danced around our boat.  Overhead, the high-pitched screech of a bald eagle could be heard, as it glided through the gray skies.  In the background were glaciers, that had formed hundreds of thousands of years ago.  You could hear there deep groaning as the slid over rock and earth, slowly retreating north from ice melt.  In that moment, I was filled with wonder and awe and again, I could barely breathe.

          I have traveled a lot.  One of my passions is to visit churches, cathedrals, and temples around the world wherever I visit.  Sometimes those structures are gothic and magnificent.  Sometimes they are contemporary and inspiring.  Now and again, there are some that are simple and humble.  But, every time I step inside – it doesn’t matter the construction or the age – there is a breathless moment of pure joy for me when the spiritual world and the physical world connect and overlap.  A moment when the molecules of the saints of all ages collide in a remembrance of worship.  That is beauty.

          There was an elderly couple who were members of a previous church.  For several years one of them had had some serious medical challenges.  The other is always there, in the midst of whatever was going on; patient, gentle, caring, attentive.  I loved the way they spoke to each other, the way they looked at one another, the way he teased her and the way she corrected him.  When I was with them, I knew each time that I was standing in the midst of beauty.

          At my first church, there was a little girl about 6 years old who would walk across the street from the church to attend worship service.  She always came alone.  We had no Sunday School, and other than her, there were no young children in the church.  But every Sunday she came.  At first, she would sit in the back with some of the older adults, but as the weeks went on, she became more brave and sat further and further toward the front.  One Sunday she sat in the front pew.  When we stood to sing, she looked back and listened to the music with a look of pure joy on her face.  Beauty!

A colleague of mine described the moment when he held his first-born son.  He saw his face, heard his cry, touched his little wrinkled fingers, but there was so much more than what he was seeing, hearing, and touching.  He had been enveloped in beauty.

I describe these moments to you as a means of hoping that you have also conjured up some moments of your own when you’ve been in the midst of such wonder, joy, and beauty that it has taken your breath away.  These moments happen all the time around us.  We are always waking up to the presence of beauty in ourselves, in each other, and in the world.  We need to have eyes to see them again.  We need to be open to seeing them again.

Having perhaps one or two of those moments in mind, now I want you to think about our scripture passage this morning.  Jesus has taken his closest friends of the disciples – James, John, and Peter up to the mountain and there is transfigured before them.  He becomes this thing of beauty that I’ve tried to describe.  They are in awe.  They are surrounded by something they have never felt or seen before.  It has filled them with such joy that they are breathless.

Until Peter says, “Let us build dwellings here!”  He doesn’t want this moment to go.  He doesn’t want it to disappear and go back to the way it was.  This is another of his Ah Hah moments when he sees Christ for who and what he is and he doesn’t want to let go.

Scholars and pastors have been trying to explain the transfiguration for hundreds of years.  But here’s what I think it means.  We have been created with an eye for beauty.  We are to live with an eye for beauty.  We are to see ourselves and one another with an eye for beauty.  An eye for beauty opens us to the transfiguring presence of God in every human being, in our lives, and in our world.  Beauty connects us to our truest and most authentic selves and it is available to all of us, if we are willing to have eyes that see, hears that hear, bodies that touch, and hearts and souls that feel.

So, what are your stories of beauty?  When have you known and participated in that presence that can only be described as a moment of beauty?  What happened, where were you, who was there?  When has the beauty of worship, a piece of music, poetry, conversation, or nature brought tears to your eyes?  Recall a time when beauty wrapped itself around you and all you could think was, “I never want this moment to end.”  That moment will transport you to this mountain scene with Jesus.

The experience of beauty ranges from the most profound and intimate experiences to those fits of laughter with family and friends that leave you with a belly ache and streams of tears. 

Whatever your encounters have been, they are an encounter with the divine.  May you have heart and soul to encounter them more every day.

AMEN.

Today's Sermon - Caring - 2/24/19

Caring

(based on Luke 6:27-38)

After teaching the disciples and the crowd about who is blessed and who will receive woes, Jesus continues his teaching about what the people of God do and how the people of God act.  What Jesus is telling us to do in this sermon is called the hardest commandment.

It is a command that sometimes seems beyond our ability to attain.  Jesus calls us to love and care for our enemies.  After selecting his these twelve disciples, Jesus teaches them what it means to follow him.  Jesus pronounces four blessings.  His disciples would endure poverty, hunger, sorrow, and persecution, but in their suffering they would know his blessing.  Jesus also pronounced four woes against self-satisfied people who were living for the pleasures of the moment and thought they could do without God.  

A natural response against the latter group of people would be for us to hate them and hurt them.  Afterall, this was the philosophy of the world at the time.  Lysias, a Greek speech writer for the courts of law in 400 BC wrote, “I consider it established that one should do harm to one’s enemies and be of service to one’s friends.”  I don’t think we’ve changed much in 2,500 years.  The world has pretty much the same philosophy today.  Unfortunately, Christians have adopted that attitude, as well.  But God has clearly condemned this attitude in the scriptures.  As far back as the establishment of the Law of Moses, it is written in Leviticus 19:18;

You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.

Many rabbis, however, taught that this verse only applied to relationships within Israel.  They taught that there were limits to brotherly love.  This is the thinking that Jesus is teaching against when he gives these instructions.  Jesus commands us to love our enemies, not just our family and friends.  Thankfully, Jesus does not leave the command there, but goes on to help explain what loving our enemies looks like.

First, do good to those who hate you.  Loving our enemies is not just simply a lack of retaliation.  Loving our enemies does not mean that I do not punch them in the face.  Loving our enemies does not mean that we do not treat them how they treat us.  Jesus is, instead, calling for a positive action toward our enemies.  Do good to those who hate you.  There is no excuse for not treating a person well.  We might want to justify our harmful response against those we see and view as enemies, but we are never excused from this command.  There is no, “Yeah, but he did such and such to me.”  In God’s eyes are never justified in not treating people well.

You see why this is the hardest commandment!

Oh, but it gets better. 

Second, bless those who curse you.  Not only are our actions to be positive toward our enemies, but our words are also to be positive.  The idea of blessing is to invoke God’s favor on another’s behalf or at least appeal to God for that person.  We talked about being a blessing to someone last week.  Now, image being a blessing to an enemy, not just a friend or family member.  It’s difficult to respond with words of grace and kindness when someone is cursing us.  We usually respond with the same fury and intensity that we are encountering at that moment.  But, Jesus is calling for us to have an unnatural response.

Third, pray for those who mistreat you.  Do not mistreat those who mistreat you.  Do good for them, speak graciously of them, and pray to God for them.  Our initial response might be to pray to God for them to have a horrible day or for them to catch a case of Montezuma’s Revenge or some other terrible illness.  But no.  Pray to God for the opposite things.  Pray that they be blessed by God.  Pray that they have a wonderful day and find the joy in living.  Pray that they have a change of heart or that their lives become one that is God filled and spirit led.  Pray for God to enter into their lives and touch their hearts.  Pray on the behalf of those that mistreat us.  

Jesus then lists some examples of actions.  If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn the other also.  This illustration has unfortunately been used to teach that a person needs to get the tar beat out of them if someone comes up to them in a physical altercation.  It is always important that we do not miss the cultural and religious context of the teachings that we read in the scriptures.  The slap in the face is idiomatic for an insult.  That idiom continued until not that long ago, where we have pictures of a prim and proper person slapping another in the cheek with a white glove.  This is not a fist fight, but an insult.  This explanation also fits Luke 6:22 where Jesus warned that we would be insulted for the sake of the Son of Man.  When insulted, do not retaliate.  Do not respond in kind.

If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt.  Jesus illustrates that we give, even to those who mistreat us.  We are to have concern for the other person.  We are to be more concerned for the person than for the protection of our property.  Even if people mistreat us, we must give them above and beyond what they need, to the point of making a real sacrifice.  We have a hard enough time giving above and beyond to people that we like.  

Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.  Not only should we give above and beyond, but we should give without demanding anything in return.  Our concern for possessions should be so minimal that we will not care that other people use our possessions and do not return them.

Do to others as you would have them do to you.  Finally, the overarching principle to guide how we are to love our enemies is to do to others as we want them to do to us.  However, when we think about this principle, we typically think of this in the negative.  We think in terms of NOT doing something to others that we would NOT want done to us.  I don’t want people to be mean, so I will not be mean.   But Jesus is teaching us to be positive and proactive.  DO to others what you would want them to do to you.  If everyone only did to others what they would have done to themselves, it would change the world.  Loving our enemies is at the very heart of being a disciple of Jesus.

Jesus goes on in his teaching.

If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?  Even sinners love those who love them.  And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you?  Even sinners do that.  And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, expecting to be repaid in full. If you only love people who love you, you have done nothing.  Everyone loves those who love them.  If you only do good to those who do good things for you, you have done nothing because everyone in the world does that.  If you lend expecting to be repaid, you have done nothing because even banks expect to be repaid.  I hope we see the point.  We think we are doing something great when we love those who love us, do good to those who do good to us, and lend to those who we think can repay!  Jesus says that we have done nothing because everyone does that.  We are not acting like Christ. We are acting like natural humans.  We are acting like sinners, not like the holy people of God.  We are not being godly.  We are being worldly.  Stop thinking that you are doing anything special when you love those that love you and do good for those that do good for you.  What becomes special and unique and Christian is when we love our enemies.  If we do not love our enemies, then we are acting just like the rest of the world.  

Love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.  Why should we do this?

Jesus tells us that our reward will be great, and we will be called children of God.  Jesus reminds us to be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.  Our Old Testament story of Joseph stands as a stark reminder of how to do it.  Joseph’s own brothers hated him.  They were jealous of him.  So much so that they sold him into slavery in Egypt.  Joseph endured years of hardship in prison, but realized that even in that, there was divine intervention, there was a divine purpose.  He gave up his retaliatory hatred and loved his brothers regardless of what they had done to him.  He was merciful to them.  They begged for food and he gave them riches.

What he received in return wasn’t some reward waiting for him in the afterlife, in heaven, but a reward right now.  He received their admiration, redemption, and love.  This is what being a real Christian is all about.  

Yes, it is difficult to do good to our enemies, to care for them and not to retaliate.   Afterall, this is the hardest commandment, but a commandment towards a reward, nonetheless.

Today's Sermon - Curing - 2/17/19

Curing

(based on Luke 6:17-26)

This passage from Luke is known as "The Sermon on the Plain"

and is parallel to Matthew’s "The Sermon on the Mount" from chapters 5-7, which is probably the teaching sermon with which we are more familiar.  This sermon in Luke is known as the Sermon on the Plain because Luke writes in 6:17 "Jesus came down with them and stood on a level place".  Matthew’s gospel in 5:1 says that Jesus “went up the mountain, and after he sat down…he began to speak.”

Rev. Sarah Shelton writes that, “the night that followed my mother's funeral, I was seated with my siblings and their families in our parents' den. Our conversation was a little bit unusual in that we found that each of us, even the in-laws and the grandchildren, began to say, "I know that I was her favorite because."

My brother was the first to remember how she would look at his art work and declare, "The world is just waiting for you, Jim."  I remembered how no matter what I had done, she would remark, "Sarah, you are as good as gold!"  On and on we went until we had each shared how we were treasured in her sight.  It was a wonderful celebration of my mother's ability to take each of us, our frailties and our strengths, and to find ways to interact with us so that we felt her unconditional acceptance.  And it was true, not a one of us was her favorite, for we were all her favorite.  Or another way to say it: Individually and collectively, we felt her personal blessing.”

Having also grown up with this sense of being blessed by my own family, I am particularly sensitive to the many who have never received a vote of confidence or heard an encouraging word or have ever experienced an overriding sense of well-being from their families.  I am heart-broken when I hear of parents who have said to their own children that they were "abominations to the Lord," or where total neglect or physical abuse occurred.

This is one of the reasons why I have loved the church and being part of the church for so many years; for the church, at least to me, is the one place that was set apart to be redemptive – to be a place where all are welcomed, accepted and loved, especially to any of us who were wounded in some way.  Now admittedly, some congregations do better with this than others, but the church's original challenge and charter was to be the place where we would not just acknowledge God's working in our lives and God’s imprint on our souls but where we could also celebrate God’s divine image within us.  The church should be the place where spiritual parents could step in when earthly parents had failed and therefore bridge the gap for healing and restoration of wholeness.

The Old Testament is full of stories where the search for blessing is the focus of an epic tale.  There is the story of Jacob stealing his birthright blessing from his brother Esau.  There is the continued story of Jacob when he refused to stop wrestling with an angel until he could receive a blessing. There is the story of Joseph and his brothers' jealousy that Joseph was given their father's blessing.  These stories, and others like them, continue on until we reach the time of the New Testament in which we meet Jesus and he imparts blessing not just to one random character here and there, but rather to everyone.

In our text for today, we find that Jesus has been up on the mountain to pray.  It was a time of discernment for him.  For on the mountain, at prayer with God his Father, he selects his twelve named disciples and then comes down to be with the multitudes that have gathered.  Luke clearly states specific geographic regions that are represented in this gathering of people in the crowd.  They are from Judea, Jerusalem, Tyre and Sidon.  It is a clear message to us that whatever Jesus is prepared to teach is for all people, the Jews – those from Judea and Jerusalem as well as for all the Gentiles for they came from the Tyre and Sidon.

The audience includes the sick, the troubled and other persons of special concerns.  As is usual in Luke's Gospel, Jesus' healing actions and his words are closely interrelated.  It is a reminder to us that the good news, the gospel message, Jesus’s teachings wraps words and actions together.  One cannot just speak truth and live differently.  And we cannot simply act, but must say what we believe, as well.  Doing only one of them is not sufficient.  While Jesus does not know these people intimately, he does recognize their personal condition in life and the deep expectations that they bring with them.  Luke also tells us that they come hoping to be touched by Jesus - to receive just a little bit of his power so that they might be healed.  They come, it seems to me, looking for a blessing.  The crowd waits for Jesus to speak.  They wait in anticipation of being told good news for themselves.

So, Jesus begins with a short list of ways the people in the crowds are already blessed.  He does not, however, include anything within the list that we would normally think of that would bring joy or happiness. In fact, he completely contradicts the ideas and values of a materialistic, sensual society which equates happiness with house, car, and bank account.  It is our introduction to the upside-down, topsy-turvy world that Christ presents as an alternative to the status quo.

He carefully constructs four symmetrical comparisons of blessings and woes in his Sermon on the Plain, and they are the opposite of what we would anticipate. For he says:

Blessed are the poor...but woe to the rich.

Blessed are the hungry...but woe to those who are full.

Blessed are the weeping...but woe to those that are laughing.

Blessed are the rejected...but woe to those who are accepted.

As Jesus presents these blessings to those that are gathered, it becomes apparent that he is not interested in keeping things the same.  The people in the crowd were used to the money-hungry rich taking all for themselves and leaving nothing for the poor.  The people in the crowd were used to those who had the means to be healed by the best physicians, their hunger for whatever they wanted assuaged, their sorrows placated with more baubles and beads, and their infractions against the law thrown out.

But Christ’s purpose was to usher in a world that would literally be reversed.  Theologians, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon wrote about this Sermon on the Plain and have said this:

“Christians begin our ethics not with anxious, self-serving questions about what we ought to do as individuals to make history come out right, because in Christ, God has already made history come out right. The "sermon on the plain" is the inauguration manifesto of how the world looks now that God in Christ has taken matters in hand.”

In other words, these blessings and woes announce that God, in Jesus Christ, already sees the world in a strikingly different way than we do.  The "real world," for all those who are in Christ, is one in which most of the major status roles in life are utterly reversed.

Christ makes no urging or exhortation to those in the crows to behave in certain ways so they could earn these blessings and avoid the curses.  In fact, there is no call to action at all.  Rather, Jesus is just pronouncing the facts.  He is painting for us a picture of what the Kingdom of God is.  He is not making suggestions about how to be happy or giving warnings on how to keep from being miserable.  Jesus is making defining statements of the way life is inside and outside the reign of God.  It is a reversal of fortunes for the rich and the poor, the powerful and the powerless, the full and the empty.

Jesus showers blessings upon those in attendance that day.  For they are the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the rejected.  They have come in need of healing.  The cure for them was for Christ to simply give them a blessing; just like Rev. Sharon said of her family, being blessed by her mother.  Each of them knew that they were special and a favorite because her mother both showed them and told them how wonderful they were.  Knowing that you are special, unique, and wonderful in the eyes of those you love is sometimes cure enough for all the evils in this world.

Go and be someone’s blessing today.

Today's Sermon - Calling - 2/10/19

Calling

(based on Isaiah 6:1-13, Luke 5:1-11)

Luke tells us that Jesus was being pressed by yet another crowd of people.  Although, unlike the crowds in last week's Gospel, these folks weren't trying to throw Jesus off a cliff.  They didn't yet know exactly who he was but they had heard of his miracles and teaching and they were crowding around him to hear the word of God.

Up to this point, the story of Jesus' ministry has him preaching and teaching in the synagogues.  This is the first account of Jesus going out among the people, into the streets, meeting them where they were and entering into their everyday lives.  And so today’s reading tells us that Jesus got into Peter's boat, summons him and asks him to put out a ways from shore so the people could gather on the shore and listen to him.

After speaking to the crowd, he told Peter to go out to the deep water and let down his nets for a catch.  Now, Peter and his partners in their fishing business had already finished a hard day's work and they had come up empty.  They had already washed their nets, while they listen to Jesus preach, all in preparation for the next day’s work and quite frankly they were probably exhausted, disappointed and ready to be done for the day. But Peter, in an act of early obedience to his new teacher says, OK, if you want me to, I'll do it.

I’m sure there have times when you are totally worn out, you’ve worked or have been busy all day, and at the end of those days there is always something like a plumbing emergency or a heating issue awaiting for you at home.  It is specifically in those times that you probably hope God doesn't call and ask you to do even more before you rest!  When you hope that the ringing phone isn't another emergency that you need to handle right away.  But this time it’s a God-need.  Someone’s in trouble.  They need you to visit or to just spend a few moments just talking to them.  This emergency are so very different from the leaking pipe or the broken down dishwasher or the office call.  When these calls come, and you are required to stretch just a bit more before the end of the day, God always seems to bless those efforts.

Sometimes it’s the blessing of holding the hand of a very sick person.  Sometimes it’s the blessing of entering into another's sadness and grief.  Sometimes it’s the blessing of finding some emergency food for those who need it desperately.  I believe the blessings that come from those acts of obedience to God’s calling are as great as a fisherman's boat overflowing with fish.

I must admit however, that personally, I only recognize some of those blessings in hindsight and not in the middle of my exhaustion.  But, I have also found that in the times when I have given myself over too much for dealing with worldly problems and done everything I can to control the order of my life, that’s when God steps in to press me even more into the work of living out the Gospel message. 

Back to the story!  Acting on Jesus' command, Peter raised the nets he had just cast out and low and behold, they were filled with fish.  So many that another boat had to be summoned to help them.  Peter's response to the miracle of abundance was to proclaim that he is unworthy of such a blessing because he is a sinful man.  Much like today's Old Testament reading, Isaiah is in the presence of God and is also being called by God to take a message to God's people.  Isaiah protests and says "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!".  Both Isaiah and Peter feel the magnitude of their unworthiness.  A seraph cleanses Isaiah lips with a burning coal and Jesus has a cleansing word for Peter.  Whatever troubled their hearts about who they were, was let go as God set them on a new course and empowered them for new work in the kingdom of God.

Peter, James, and John dropped everything they were doing and everything they had and followed Jesus.  Just like Luke’s gospel, Matthew and Mark also recall the event of them following Christ, but they leave out the miracle of the fish catch.  The disciple's response of following Christ is probably easier for us to accept if we include the miracle of the great fish catch, because it makes more sense.  They witness a miracle from their teacher and wanted to see more, experience more with him, but their action is nonetheless an act made in faith and obedience to Jesus.

Agnes Bojaxhiu was born in Macedonia in 1910. At the tender age of 12 she strongly felt the call of God and knew she was called to spread the love of Jesus Christ. At age 18 she entered a convent and joined the sisters of Loreto. While teaching at a high school in Calcutta she was so moved by the extreme poverty she saw from her window that she sought and received permission to work among the poorest of poor in the slums. The story of her work became well known to all because this woman we know as Mother Theresa continued to obediently answer God's call to serve God's people until her death.

I know there are thousands of stories about people who have received calls to radical Christian vocation.  But the fact is, God calls each of us to follow him today just as certainly as Jesus called Peter, James and John.  I am not suggesting you drop everything and run away to a join a monastery or to enroll in seminary or immediately fly down to Honduras and work among the poor there.

The important thing to recognize is that God's work of calling did not stop with the Gospel stories and that God's calling to us continues to this day and requires us to answer that call right here.  God's call to us is not an invitation!  It is not "hey, if you have nothing better to do today, do you want to come over here and do this with me."  God's call has always been one of command; sometimes subtle and gentle and sometimes not-so-gentle.  God has already "ordered" things so the "call" is just one more piece in God's puzzle.  When Jesus commanded people to follow him, the events surrounding their lives had already been perfectly ordered to support their obedient response, they just needed to recognize it and to follow.

Just as Jesus involved himself in Peter's everyday concerns about fishing, God calls to each of us in our ordinary everyday lives and asks that we follow Him.  Sometimes that call is to radically change our lives and go places that we never thought of going, but more often it is a call to look after and care for God's people right where we are, in our families, at our work, in our church and in our communities.

Jesus' behavior and actions provide the perfect model for us.  He went out among the people, into the street, where they lived, worked, experienced joy and sorrow --- all of the messiness of their lives.

As for us, how do we respond to that command?  Did a person in need appear before you this week as a reminder?  Following God's call is not a single event, it is a life-long process filled with a lot of falling short of what we think God expects of us, but punctuated with occasional bright points of feeling like we’re doing exactly what God has called us to do.

I am convinced that we are called to continue Jesus' ministry to bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and to let the oppressed go free.  The message in Luke's Gospel is not so much one of acceptance of, or recognition of a professional call to ministry or missionary work, it is rather one of obedience.  It’s a call to discipleship and is something that God has both commanded and enabled.

As the story of Jesus' ministry unfolds we see that his work and ministry have grown to require the recruitment of disciples.  After his death, the growth of his church required many workers in the vineyards, some far away, but many close to home, as well.  And the fishing for people continues in order to further the Kingdom of God which has not yet come, but is now, and is being built every day. 

Will you be obedient to the call?