Sunday, May 27, 2018

Sermon: Jesus and New Coke

John 3:1-17
Jesus and New Coke
James Sledge                                                               May 27, 2018  - Trinity Sunday

When you make a decision, what sort of process to you follow? The decision could be about what kind of car to buy, what movie to watch, where to go to school, whether to make a career change, or how to vote. Obviously some decisions require more careful deliberation, and others we can make on a whim. But what steps do you follow if the decision is important? How do you know you’ve made the right one?
People in this area and in this congregation are often highly educated. Presumably that makes more resources available to us in decision making. We’re educated to be rational, to use reason, to employ science, and so on. You would expect such things to give us some advantages in making good decisions.
Nicodemus is a well educated man, trained in Torah and in the ways of God. People would have gone to him to get expert advice on matters of scripture and the Law. His opinions would have carried some weight for those wrestling with a religious decision.
Nicodemus is intrigued with Jesus. As a religious expert, it’s obvious to him that Jesus has a connection to God, and he so he goes to see Jesus in order to learn more. Presumably he wants to make a decision about Jesus. Yes, the power of God is clearly with him, but what exactly does that mean. But when Nick goes to talk with Jesus, he goes at night.
In John’s gospel, light and darkness are terms loaded with theological symbolism. Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness, the light no darkness can overcome. For some reason, Nicodemus visits at night, in the darkness. Not a good sign.
Sure enough, Nicodemus struggles to understand Jesus.  Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above/again.”  There’s not a comparable English word that carries both these meanings so it’s hard for us to join in Nick’s confusion, to hear something different from what Jesus intends. We have to translate it one way or the other, either “from above,” or “again.”
Still, it should not have been that hard for Nick to get it. “From above,” is the more typical meaning, and even if Nick mistakenly went with the more literal meaning initially, the correct meaning should have become clear when Jesus tries to clarify things, speaking of being born of the Spirit. But Nicodemus remains stupefied.

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Sermon: Any Life Here?

Ezekiel 37:1-14
Any Life Here?
James Sledge                                                                           Pentecost, May 20, 2018

   The scene is a battlefield where one army had annihilated another. The defeat has been so total, there were either no survivors, or all those who lived had been taken prisoner. No one left to care for the dying; no one to bury the dead. All who fell on the battlefield remained there, scavengers and nature gradually doing their work. When only bones were left, they baked in the sun, drying and bleaching as months turned to years.
   As Ezekiel gazes on this desolate scene, God speaks. “Mortal, can these bones live?” What a ridiculous question. The situation is beyond hopeless. There is nothing here to be resuscitated. There’s nothing left but bones strewn and scattered about, like puzzle pieces that have been shaken up and then thrown all over the floor. 
   As far as the prophet can tell, it’s an impossible situation. There is no way. But the prophet has been surprised by the strange ways of God before, and so he throws the question back. “O Lord God, you know.”
   Sure enough, God provides the answer by giving the prophet instructions. “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.” The prophet does as he’s told, and the bones began to reassemble and take on muscles and skin. Then there is a movement of wind/breath/Spirit, and the reassembled, fleshed out bones come to life.
   Some Christians have tried to make this vision about resurrection and eternal life, but that’s not what God says it’s about. “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel.” Israel may lost all hope, yet God will restore them. God still has plans for them.
   Israel and the prophet are in Babylon, exiled from Jerusalem, which now lies in ruins, Solomon’s great temple nothing but rubble. The walls of David’s great city have been torn down. God’s promise of a house and kingdom that would last forever, of descendants who would always sit on the throne of David, has apparently been revoked.
   In exile, Israel’s theologians and faith leaders struggle to make sense of things. What does it mean to be God’s chosen people when God has allowed them to be utterly defeated and carried into exile? Has Israel’s failure to keep covenant brought it all to an end? Is there any going back? It is a time of crisis, a faith crisis, an existential crisis. Is there any future for Israel? Or is she just a failed experiment, a washed up relic that belongs to another time?