Sunday, December 29, 2019
Sermon: Pharaoh and Herod vs God's Love
Matthew 2:13-23
Pharaoh and Herod vs God’s Love
James Sledge December
29, 2019
Every
evening when I drive home at this time of year, I pass by a house with an
elaborate nativity scene in the front yard. It’s not terribly realistic, but it
is huge, covering half of the front yard. It has steps that go up to the floor
where Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus are, along with wise men and some
animals.
The
holy family and their visitors are wooden, stylized figures, illuminated by strands
of Christmas lights. But on those steps leading up to the floor are two more
realistic figures. They are plastic, brightly colored, and glow from their own,
interior lighting. One is Santa Claus and the other is a snowman, Frosty
perhaps?
A
little odd, I suppose, but it’s hardly the first time I’ve seen Santa and the
manger side by side. I don’t suppose anyone actually thinks that Santa was
there at Jesus’ birth, but I can understand why people might add Santa to the
display. In popular imagination, the story of Jesus’ birth is a joyous, magical,
miraculous story, often depicted as sweet and idyllic, something straight out
of a Norman Rockwell painting.
Likewise
the story of Santa is also joyous and miraculous. It is full of warmth and
happiness and a sense of magic that even adults long for. It is easy to see why
people would feel that the two stories go well together.
It
may surprise some, considering all the attention we lavish on it, to realize
how little coverage the Christmas story gets from the Bible. Of the four
gospels, only Luke tells of Jesus in a manger. There’s no actual mention of a
stable, and many scholars think this manger was inside a home, in the area
where the animals were brought inside at night.
If
the nativity display at your house is like the one at mine, the Wise Men are
visiting the baby in the manger along with shepherds and angels. But the visit
of the Magi doesn’t quite belong with Christmas. Young Jesus is likely a
toddler in this story from Matthew’s gospel, a story that ends with the
fearsome, frightening events from our scripture reading this morning. All the male
children two years old and under in the little hamlet of Bethlehem are taken
from their parents by government officials, and then killed.
The gospel writer borrows a line from
the prophet Jeremiah to describe the scene. The words originally spoke
metaphorically of the children of Israel carried off into exile while Rachel,
one of Israel’s founding matriarchs, weeps for them. But now the metaphor has
turned literal. “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud
lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled,
because they are no more.”
Sunday, December 22, 2019
Sermon: The Threat of Christmas
Matthew 1:18-25
The Threat of Christmas
James Sledge December
22, 2019
Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and
unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. “A righteous
man.” Outside of the Bible, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone actually
described that way. Have you? I can’t think of a single example. For that
matter, I almost never hear the word righteous at all, other than to speak disparagingly
of someone who is “self-righteous.”
Some
Bible translations try something else: a just man, a man of honor, a noble man,
a good man. Unlike righteous, I’ve heard people described as good, noble, honorable,
or just, and meant in a complimentary way. Righteous, however, just isn’t part
of our everyday vocabulary. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that any of those other
words quite capture what the gospel writer is trying to say.
To
say that Joseph is a righteous man is to say that he is faithful in keeping
God’s law. He is more than simply good. He lives his life by God’s
commandments. He is guided by the principles laid out in the Torah, and Torah
says he should divorce Mary.
Divorce
is required because Mary’s engagement to Joseph is something very different from
engagement in our day. When two people get engaged in our culture, they have
declared their intent to marry, but there’s no legal change of status. They are
still single and, should they call off the engagement, the only issues to
navigate depend on how far along things are. It could be a simple as letting
friends and family know that the wedding is off. Or it could involve unbooking
reception venues and dealing with angry members of the wedding party who’ve
already bought bridesmaid dresses or non-refundable airline tickets. But
regardless of how easy or complicated, calling the wedding off doesn’t require
any legal action to undo the engagement.
Not
the case for Joseph and Mary. Their engagement is as legally binding as
marriage is for us. It cannot be called off. It can only end with a divorce.
I
can only imagine what goes through Joseph’s mind when he learns that Mary is
pregnant. He might feel betrayed, although if this is an arranged marriage,
perhaps not. In the eyes of the Law, however, Joseph has been wronged. He has
made Mary his wife, even if the final formalities are yet to come, but now that
Joseph has learned of her presumed adultery, he must divorce her, regardless of
what he does or doesn’t feel for her.
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Sunday, December 8, 2019
Sermon: Needing John (and Accountability) for Advent
Matthew 3:1-12
Needing John (and Accountability) for Advent
James Sledge December
8, 2019
Many
of you are aware that the Scripture passages used in worship each week come
from something called a lectionary, in our case the Revised Common Lectionary.
This is a published list of readings for each Sunday, typically with a reading
from the Old Testament, a psalm, a passage from an epistle or letter, and a
gospel reading. We never use all the readings, but on most Sundays, we use some
of them.
The
lectionary follows a three year cycle, imaginatively titled years A, B, and C.
Year A features the Gospel of Matthew, year B, Mark, and year C, Luke. The
Gospel of John doesn’t get a year but gets woven into all three. As we entered
into Advent last Sunday, we transitioned from Year C to A, and so we hear from
Matthew today.
If you looked at all the passages listed
in the lectionary for Advent, you might be surprised to discover that none
sound very Christmassy until the gospel reading on December 22. And John the
Baptist shows up on both the second and third Sunday in Advent. A person
unfamiliar with church who happened to wander into our worship on those Sundays
could be forgiven for suspecting that we didn’t realize what time of year it
was. Do we really need to hear from John
so much and so close to Christmas?
Monday, December 2, 2019
Sunday, December 1, 2019
Sermon: Advent, Eschatology, and Moral Arcs
Isaiah 2:1-5
Advent, Eschatology, and Moral Arcs
James Sledge December
1, 2019
Recently
I’ve seen a number of articles and posts on social media commemorating thirty
years since the fall of the Berlin Wall. What a momentous time. The Soviet
Union collapsed. East and West Germany became one country. Former puppet
regimes began new lives as independent nations. And people heralded the end of
the Cold War.
There
was great hope for the future and talk of a “peace dividend.” America was the
sole remaining superpower, and many hoped that military spending could be
curtailed, allowing increased funding for social programs, education,
infrastructure projects, and so on.
There
were reductions in nuclear arsenals. Military spending remained flat for a few
years, but no big peace dividend materialized. After 9/11, military spending increased
dramatically, and we’ve been in an endless “war on terror” ever since. Now
Russia’s war in Ukraine and interference in US elections feels a little like a
return to Cold War days.
Through
much of history, hopes for peace often seem to disappear like mist burned away
by the morning sun. “Peace on Earth” will soon by plastered all over Christmas
cards and Christmas displays, but our hopes for peace always seem to get
overwhelmed by our tendency towards violence and war.
Back
in 1928, France, the US, and Germany signed something called the “General Treaty for Renunciation of War as an
Instrument of National Policy,” better known as the “Kellogg-Briand
Pact.” By the time the treaty went into effect a year later, the majority of
the world’s nations had signed it, including all the major players in World War
II, which would begin only ten years later.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
Sermon: Failing the Cowboy Test
Luke 23:33-43
Failing the Cowboy
Test
James Sledge November
24, 2019
I was sitting on the couch
watching television the other night. More accurately, I was looking for
something to watch. I pulled up the channel guide and scrolled through it, but
nothing really grabbed me. As I got to the very end, I saw a listing that read
simply, “Cheyenne.”
I used to watch a show called
Cheyenne when I was a little boy, and so I clicked on it to see if it was that.
Sure enough, there, in beautiful black and white, was Clint Walker starring as
Cheyenne Bodie.
Now I suspect that many of you
have never heard of either Cheyenne Bodie or the actor who played him, but the
show was a huge success when it aired from the mid-1950s to early 60s. According
to Wikipedia, it was the first hour-long Western and the first hour-long
dramatic series of any sort to last more than a single season.
Cheyenne was a large and muscular, but a gentle fellow, at least until someone needed justice. Then he was more than willing to use his brawn, or his gun, to set things right.
Cheyenne was a large and muscular, but a gentle fellow, at least until someone needed justice. Then he was more than willing to use his brawn, or his gun, to set things right.
Cowboy heroes were all over the
television when I was a boy, both in afternoon reruns and in primetime. There
were many variations in the slew of Westerns that filled the airways, but in
most all of them, the dramatic climax of the show came when good defeated evil
in a fist fight or a gunfight. Good put evil in its place, and, for a moment at
least, things were right with the world again.
My and many others’ notions of
heroism and bravery and masculinity were shaped by Cheyenne and the Lone Ranger
and Marshall Dillon and Roy Rogers and on and on and on. These heroes weren’t
afraid to fight for what they believed in, even when the odds were against
them. A real hero, a real man, might not want to fight, but he was more than
ready to do so in order to defend himself or others.
I wonder if this isn’t one reason
that so many of us Christians struggle with following Jesus. He asks us to live
in ways that are contrary to accepted notions of strength, of bravery, of
masculinity, of might and right. He tells us not to fight back. He tells us to
love our enemy. He says not to seek restitution when someone takes something
from us.
Jesus fails miserably at the
cowboy test, the superhero test. Yes, he does best his opponents in verbal
repartee on a regular basis, but when push comes to shove, he refuses to fight
back. When he is arrested, he goes meekly. When people give false testimony at
his trial, he makes no attempt to defend himself. When he is convicted for
being a political threat to the empire, he raises no objection. No wonder that
when the risen Jesus comes along a pair of his disciples on the afternoon of
that first Easter, they say of him, “But we had hoped that he was the one…” They
had hoped, but clearly he was not. If he had been, he would not have gone down
without a fight. If he had been, it wouldn’t have ended like this.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Sermon: Saying "Yes" to God's New Day
Isaiah 65:17-25
Saying “Yes” to God’s New Day
James Sledge November
17, 2019
A
few weeks ago, one of my Facebook “friends” posted this on her page. “When the
time changes next weekend could we please go back to 1965 when life was
simple!!!!! I think most will agree the 60’s were the best years of their
life!!!”
“Most” here obviously doesn’t include anyone born
after 1970. It might not include those who served or lost loved ones in
Vietnam. It’s probably doesn’t include civil rights marchers who faced dogs,
fire hoses, beatings, and death threats. But for many, including an eight year
old me, it did seem a wonderful, simple time. We lived what I thought was the
nearly idyllic life of a typical suburban family. Oh, for life to be that easy
again.
Nostalgia
is a way that many of us react when things are not going as well as we’d like. As
with my Facebook “friend,” it usually involves some selective remembering that
focuses on the good and forgets the bad. Those who want to make America great
again, recall a time when American was in its ascendency, the preeminent
superpower with a growing middle class, burgeoning suburbs, and an interstate
highway system beginning to be built. Of course this nostalgia forgets the large
numbers of people who were systemically excluded because of race, gender, sexual orientation, and so on.
It forgets the ecological damage being done without the least bit of concern.
There’s
a lot of nostalgia in the church these days. Remember when the sanctuary was
always full? Remember when the confirmation class had forty youth in it?
Remember when we couldn’t find enough rooms for all the Sunday School classes?
Remember?
Of
course nostalgia forgets that 1950s Christianity often actively supported laws
enforcing racial segregation and criminalizing sexual orientations or behaviors
seen as “deviant,” The Church gave religious sanction to American society,
speaking in biblical terms of a new Jerusalem, in exchange for the culture all
but requiring people to participate in religion. But it was an easier time to
be church, although Jesus did say that following him would be difficult.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Sunday, November 10, 2019
Sermon: Rightly Ordered Priorities
Haggai 1:15b-2:9
Rightly Ordered Priorities
James Sledge November
10, 2019
I’m
not sure when children’s sermons became a standard part of American worship
services, but my church had them when I was a child. As with other elements of
worship, there are resource books on children’s sermons. I have a couple of old
ones that a retiring pastor gave me. Unfortunately, almost all the ideas are
object lessons, practical examples used to explain more abstract ideas about
faith. But child development experts say that object lesson don’t work with
young children whose thinking is too concrete, which explains why it is often
adults who enjoy the children’s sermons while the little ones fidget through
them.
A
colleague once shared with me a children’s sermon on tithing. I really like it,
but it’s another object lesson. And so I’m using it in a regular sermon. A
basket of ten apples represents a person’s income. Our faith says that all we
have is a gift from God. The only thing God asks is that we use the first part
of our gifts to do God’s work.
God
has given me ten apples. A tithe would be one of them, so I will give one apple
back to God. And I still have a whole basket full to use for the things I need
and want.
But
very often, people don’t do it that way. I take my ten apples and buy a car and
food, pay rent, take a vacation, fund hobbies, pay for streaming and cell
service, and so on until little is left. Then I think about giving to God, but it
would be everything I’ve got.
I
can’t imagine that many young children ever made head nor tails of this lesson,
but the point is a good one for those of us old enough to understand. The
practice of generosity is much, much easier when it comes first. It is
difficult to be generous when you only give from what is left over after you
are done.
That’s
true of faith and discipleship in general. If we seek to follow Jesus, to pray,
study, serve others, worship, and so on, only after we’ve done everything else
we need and want, there is never enough time or money left over.
Faith,
discipleship, true spirituality, are largely about getting life rightly ordered.
On some level, we know this intuitively. You may have heard the adage, “No one on their deathbed
ever said, ‘I wish I’d spent more time at the office.’” We nod our heads in
agreement yet we still struggle with disordered priorities.
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Sermon: Experiencing Love, Sharing Love
Luke 19:1-10
Experiencing Love, Sharing Love
James Sledge November
3, 2019
I
read an article the other day about recent research on partisanship in America.
It said that 9 in 10 Americans say they are “frustrated by the uncivil and rude
behavior of many politicians.” But at the very same time, 8 in 10 Americans are
“tired of leaders compromising my values and ideals” and want leaders “who will
stand up to the other side.”[1]
It
would seem, at least the case of partisan divides, that Americans decry the
political boundaries that divide us into camps, recognizing that these
divisions are caustic and destructive. And yet, these same Americans want
“their side” to fight against the other. We lament our divisions while, at the
same time, encouraging them.
And
in case you haven’t noticed, politics is just one of many things that create
“us and them” dynamics. We divide by race, income, gender, age, education
level, and more. Some boundaries are more rigid than others, but we learn at an
early age how to navigate and deal with them. It doesn’t take long for school
aged children to recognize divisions between rich and poor, in and out, cool and not so cool, athletes and nerds, and so on.
Religion
gets in on the game, too, with all sorts of boundaries, some clear, some
subtle. Are you a member? Are you saved? Do you believe the right things? Do
you fit in or not?
We’re a liberal church. We’re a conservative
church. We’re a liturgical church. We like highbrow music. We like praise
songs. I suppose that some such preferences are unavoidable, but we often take
it a step further. It’s not really church if it doesn’t have the right kind of music, right kind of liturgy, right political stance, or, perhaps, no
political stance. And if you don’t think such boundaries fence people out here
at FCPC, serve at one of our Wednesday Welcome Tables and observe the hundreds
of people there. Then observe how nary a one returns for worship on a Sunday.
They know that they don’t belong.
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Sunday, October 13, 2019
Sermon: In Their Shalom, You Will Find Yours
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7
In Their Shalom, You Will Find Yours
James Sledge October
13, 2019
Has
the ground ever shifted under your feet, something you thought sure, permanent,
certain, unchanging, suddenly failed you? For much of the 20th
century, American factory workers assumed there would always be good,
high-paying manufacturing jobs with pensions for them and their children. But
then factories began to close, and jobs began to dry up.
On
a more personal level, someone you counted on, the one person you were certain
would always be there for you, suddenly betrays you. It could be a spouse, a
best friend, a child, a parent, but the trauma of such a betrayal can leave
people unmoored and at a loss for what to do next.
American
Christianity, or perhaps I should say, American churches have experienced the
ground shake under them as well. It happened more gradually than a factory
closing or a spouse leaving, but it has been no less devastating for many
congregations.
When
America sought a return to “normal” after World War II, church was assumed to
be a big part of that normal. As suburbs exploded in the 1950s, denominations put
scores of new churches in them. Mainline denominations like Presbyterians,
Lutherans, Methodists, and Episcopalians used a formula that almost always
worked. If we build it, they will come. People were “supposed” to go to church,
and so the new neighborhood churches easily found new members while existing
congregations built additions to handle all the people.
Those
were heady times for Presbyterians and others. We enjoyed significant influence
in the public square. Our seminaries were filled with bright young minds.
Denominational headquarters swelled and expanded. “The Protestant Hour” was
broadcast on over 600 radio stations nationwide, as well as on the Armed Forces
Network.
I
grew up assuming that you went to church on Sunday morning, unless you were
Jewish. It was a fairly safe assumption in 1960s South Carolina. Nothing much
else happened on Sunday morning. The stores and movie theaters were closed. The
pool didn’t open until after lunch, and no youth sports team even thought about
playing or practicing.
I
suspect that many congregations assumed it would always be so. The suburbs
would keep growing and so would the churches. We would keep building new
churches, keep holding worship services, and the people would keep streaming
in, encouraged by a culture that expected religious participation as a part of
American citizenship.
But
for many of you here today, such a world has never existed. You grew up with
Sunday soccer leagues, walk-a-thons, 5Ks, and other community events. Almost no
businesses closed on Sunday, and church was just one option in a plethora of
them.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Higher Loyalties
I, [name], do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.I find it remarkable that our military officers swear to support and defend not their service branch, not their leaders, military or civilian, not even the nation itself, but rather the ideals on which the nation is built. They swear to defend freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to peaceably protest, and more from "all enemies, foreign and domestic." The oath demands a loyalty to higher principles, and as such, it is aspirational. I doubt anyone is able to keep it perfectly. At times it surely comes in conflict with climbing the career ladder, obeying an order, etc. I do suspect, however, that many in the military come closer to upholding their oath than do some others in the service of our country.
Members of Congress, the President, Supreme Court justices, and so on take oaths to defend the constitution. They all pledge a higher loyalty than party or political gain, but in these highly partisan times, this higher loyalty is often difficult to detect. On occasion, the good of the nation overrides partisan interests, but those occasions seem to be more and more rare.
Our current president has added a new wrinkle to this problem by seemingly conflating loyalty to the nation and its ideals with loyalty to him personally. Perhaps this is simply a natural progression in the move away from a loyalty to higher principles toward smaller and smaller loyalties. And the smallest loyalty of all is one to self alone.
America's emphasis on individual freedoms and rights may at times encourage this problem, although our founding documents attempt to strike a balance between the good of the individual and the good of the whole. It's not a new problem though. In a letter to his congregation in Corinth, the Apostle Paul addresses members there whose personal freedoms and rights seem unconcerned with the good of others.
The issue in Corinth is eating meat that has been sacrificed in pagan temples, something forbidden by the Scripture (which for Paul and the first Christians was what we call the Old Testament). This might seem a minor problem but most meat at the butcher shop had started out as a sacrifice somewhere. Buying meat for supper risked violating the Law unless one was very careful.
But Paul said that through Jesus, he had been freed from the Law, and some Corinthians decided they could eat meat without a second thought. But others were bothered by this. In Monday's daily lectionary passage from 1 Corinthians 10:14-11:1, Paul addresses this conflict, writing, " 'All things are lawful,' but not all things are beneficial. 'All things are lawful,' but not all things build up. Do not seek your own advantage, but that of the other."
For Paul, the exercise of freedom or rights that would harm another is inconceivable. For Paul, freedom does not mean he gets to do what ever he wants. Paul has been freed for a new life "in Christ," a life that is profoundly for others, a life guided by Christ-like love as its highest loyalty.
As with politics, this fealty to a higher principle - in this case a love for others - is too often absent from American Christianity. Faith is often viewed in highly individualistic terms, almost like a consumer commodity. Faith, spirituality, belief, is something undertaken for personal benefit. This may be divine blessings, the promise of heaven, a spiritual buzz, or some other good. In its worst manifestations, it becomes almost totally focused on one's personal salvation, spiritual fulfillment, peace of mind, heavenly reward, etc. with little concern for others beyond a very limited sphere.
The guarantee of personal freedoms and rights is one of the real strengths of the founding principles of our nation. But those freedoms and rights were never intended to be absolutes, and when they become objects of ultimate loyalty, they are what Scripture calls "idols." The problem of idols is not a mechanical one, a danger from certain sorts of statues or images. The problem is one of loyalties, and the very human tendency to misplace our loyalties. The problem is perhaps even more acute among religious sorts for we are endlessly able to enlist our gods and beliefs in our personal causes, at which point we have converted our god into an idol.
There's a well worn quote from writer Anne Lamott that is well attuned to this problem of idol making. "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns our God hates all the same people you do." In other words, is your god loyal to you, or are you loyal to the God we meet in Jesus?
You can find the Daily Lectionary here.
Monday, October 7, 2019
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Sermon: Meeting God in Scripture: Enough Faith
Luke 17:1-10
Meeting God in Scripture: Enough Faith
James Sledge October
6, 2019
Over
the summer, I read a church-focused blog post on preaching entitled “Don’t
Start with the Bible.”[1] It
suggested bringing Scripture into a sermon only at the last possible moment, after
raising some issue, examining ways the culture is responding, and identifying
fruitful responses. Then and only then, connect the fruitful responses to Scripture.
The
author is concerned that starting with Scripture invites folks to tune out the
preacher because people don’t see the Bible as an authority. In fact, many view
Scripture with suspicion, an antiquated religious book with little connection
to their everyday lives.
I
can’t argue with that, but still, I’m inclined not to follow the blog’s
recommendation. Yes, there are difficulties. Some of you may view the Bible
with a degree of skepticism, and I would never expect to win any argument with,
“Well the Bible says so.” Yet in a time with so few cultural inducements or
expectations to attend church or be Christian, surely most people who do show
up are looking for something more than what they can find on their own. They
are hoping to find meaning or purpose not found from culture, from work or
hobbies or other experiences. They are hoping Church has something unique to offer.
The
Bible would seem ready made for this, a huge collection of stories, poetry,
imagery, regulations, teachings, letters, and more drawn from the various
experiences of the faith community over the centuries. All of these explore,
examine, and reflect on the encounters with and efforts to live in relationship
to the mystery we call God.
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Sermon: Vision Problems
Luke 16:19-31
Vision Problems
James Sledge September
29, 2019
Early
on during the sabbatical I took over the summer, I camped at Big Bend National
Park, in west Texas, for several days. One afternoon, I decided to check out a
hiking trail right by my campsite. As I walked along I came around a curve with
a five-foot-high, rock, retaining wall. And there, stretched out on the rocks,
was a rattlesnake.
He
seemed oblivious to me. I got quite close to take some pictures, but he
remained motionless. I was a little disappointed that he didn’t shake his
rattle, but I didn’t want to provoke or bother him too much, so I went on my
way.
As
I continued on, I wondered about someone on the trail who was not paying much
attention. How easy might it be to put a hand on that wall for support, right
where my rattlesnake friend was sunning himself? And so I alerted any hikers I
met along the way.
Have you ever thought about the things we see
and the things we miss? As a motorcyclist, I’m keenly aware of other
motorcycles. I can scarcely recall a time when I was suddenly startled or
surprised by the presence of a motorcycle I had not previously noticed.
Yet
all too often, motorcyclists are injured or killed by a driver who never saw
them. I’ve read of accidents where the driver says over and over to the police,
“I never saw him. I never saw him.” For some people, motorcycles seem to be
nearly invisible.
What
things do you see or notice? What things do you miss? Are there things that are
invisible to you?
Being
poor can make someone nearly invisible. Or maybe that has it backwards. Perhaps
it’s that having wealth can make one blind. Back when David Letterman was still
hosting the Late Show on CBS, a prominent politician who’d grown up in a
wealthy family was a guest. During a commercial break, a woman who worked for
the show came out to go over something with Letterman. As she leaned over his
desk, this politician reached out, grabbed the hem of her long sweater, and
proceeded to clean his glasses with it. It was such an odd scene that Letterman
showed a clip of it the next night.
I
doubt there was any malice or ill intent by this politician. He simply did not
see a person. He saw something he could use to clean his glasses. Perhaps this
is why Jesus so often speaks of money as a curse rather than a blessing. It can
cause such blindness.
Wednesday, September 25, 2019
Sunday, September 22, 2019
Sermon: Hard Truths
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Hard Truths
James Sledge September
22, 2019
One
would have to have been asleep for the last decade or so to be unaware of our
nation’s epidemic of gun violence. While I was on sabbatical during July and
August, I was often without internet or TV. Even so, I could not avoid reports
on the carnage that took place during that brief time. In the span of barely
more than a month, shootings in Gilroy, California, El Paso, Texas, Dayton,
Ohio, and Odessa and Midland, Texas, left 44 people dead and 88 wounded.
The
term “mass shooting” has no precise definition, but according to a Wikipedia
article, there have been 297 mass shootings this year in America, killing 335
people and leaving 1219 more wounded. Seven occurred at a school or university
and two in worship spaces, and I’m sure these statistics aren’t already out of
date.
In,
nearly 40,000 Americans died from gunshot wounds. About 24,000 of those were
suicides, a number that is sickening all by itself. And of course that means
that 16,000 people were killed by someone else. This last number alone amounts
for more than forty people killed every single day.
Perhaps
you are already familiar with these numbers, but I share them with you this
morning to help explain why I reacted the way I did to our scripture reading.
Before I ever did any of the things we preachers are supposed to do for writing
a sermon – look at the original Greek or Hebrew, do word studies on important
terms, consult various commentaries, and so on – I quickly glanced at the different
passages listed for this Sunday. As I skimmed our passage from Jeremiah, I was
suddenly caught up by the final verse. O that my head were a spring of water, and
my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain
of my poor people!
The
slain of my poor people… Every night on the news, more people are added to the
list. Of course the prophet Jeremiah is not talking about gun violence in
America, but surely he would use the very same words if he were alive today.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Sermon: Ready to Party
Luke 15:1-10
Ready to Party
James Sledge September
15, 2019
I
suppose it is a nearly universal experience, wondering if you made the cut. Did
I get the job? Did I make the team? Did I get into the sorority or fraternity?
Did I get accepted into my top college? Did I get invited to the big party? I’m
sure you can think of other examples.
This
experience seems to be woven into the very fabric of nature. Evolution is driven
by the “survival of the fittest.” And it is hard not to hear value judgements
in terms such as “the fittest” or “successful predator.” They are the better
species.
These
sort of value judgments make their way into popular thought. People
experiencing poverty or homelessness are often assumed to have failed in some
way. They’ve not worked hard enough or failed to apply themselves. Their
predicament is similar to not making the team, landing a good job, or getting
into a good college. It is the result of some failure to be good enough, to try
hard enough, to be smart enough, and so on.
Religion
picks it up, too. The so-called Protestant
work ethic grew from the idea that hard work which bore financial success
was a sign of God’s favor. At the very least this implies that poverty is a
sign of God’s disfavor.
Surely
each of us is shaped in some way by living in a world where such ideas are so
prevalent. How can we not feel that we have failed to measure up in some way
when we don’t get that top job, get rejected by that college, or don’t make the
requisite income?
And
for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, the pressures to measure up, to
get into a top school, climb the career ladder, be rich enough, pretty enough,
and so on, seem to have intensified in recent decades. Such pressures feed
worries and anxieties, driving everything from overscheduled kids to workers
who don’t use their vacation time.
If
you’re well versed in the teachings of Jesus, you might think that Christians
wouldn’t buy into such thinking. But Christian faith gets practiced and lived
out in human, religious institutions. And we humans are prone to think that
God’s value judgments are not so different from ours.
And
so religion too often looks like one more version of measuring up. Am I good
enough? Do I believe the correct things? Have I done what is required for God to
love me?
This takes many different forms. For
some, believing that Jesus is their personal Lord and Savior guarantees them a
ticket to heaven. For others, certain prayer or meditation practices must be
learned well enough to provide the promised spiritual fulfillment. For still
others, religion becomes a way to spiritualize the correct political beliefs,
be they conservative or liberal.
Friday, August 30, 2019
Sabbatical Journal 12
As easily as I've fallen back into watching too much TV, eating too much, and checking my phone too much. A great deal of the time during my trip I had poor or no internet. I kept up with the news, but not like I do now. And I felt much less stressed. I watched almost no television, and I can't say that I missed it at all. Only rarely could I access social media, and that was just fine.
Sleeping in a tent with only battery powered light, I went to sleep soon after it got dark and got up soon after it got light. I ate less and slept more. My days seemed full and busy even though I had none of the entertainment and distractions that I do now. My sense of what I needed, of what was necessary, shifted dramatically. Granted, it lasted for less than two months, but I think there are long-term impacts.
Even though I have easily resumed old rhythms, there are wants, longings, and desires that so far have remained dormant. Like most Americans, I have been heavily indoctrinated into our consumer culture. But it seems to have a little less of a grip on me these days. I have no way of knowing how long this might last, but I am more content, more satisfied in some ways.
My experience runs counter to the American narrative that says happiness, contentment, fulfillment, are achieved by acquiring more. But for me, the motorcycle sabbatical made clear how little of that more I actually needed. I don't mean to idealize the trip. There were elements of it that were completely unsustainable and ways in which it was made possible by the modern world we live in. Still, it seems to have rewired me on some level.
The church I serve has been doing a great deal of praying and seeking God's guidance for who and what we are called to be as a congregation.One element of this process was the development of what many would call a vision statement that says our church is called to "Gather those who fear they are not enough, so we may experience grace, wholeness, and renewal as God's beloved." That fear of not being enough was something that bubbled up in conversations with our members, and I think it reflects that American narrative about acquiring more. It is worry, anxiety about never quite getting there, whether "there" is understood in terms of money, accomplishment, influence, success, or something else.
Our congregation has felt a call to help people experience something different from that narrative about needing to acquire more. But exactly how does one experience grace, wholeness, and renewal as God's beloved? Most people cannot take a motorcycle sabbatical or some other such thing that might dramatically alter the typical rhythms of life.
During my sabbatical absence, the various ministry teams of our congregations have been grappling with just how we will invite ourselves and other into a new way of life as God's beloved. And I look forward to returning as we seek to put into practice God's call to gather those who fear they're not enough.
Sabbatical Journal 11
While looking around at the exhibits in the visitors' center at Yosemite National Park, I came upon one on pikas and climate change. For some reason I've always been enchanted by pikas, small, alpine mammals that are cousins of rabbits. (If you've never seen the video of the pika singing Freddie Mercury, google it.)
Being alpine creatures, pikas cannot tolerate hot weather, and the exhibit explained how, during the heat of summer, pikas must retreat into their burrows to cool down from time to time. Warming temperatures are not only forcing pikas to ever higher elevations, but the exhibit worried that the need to spend increasing time cooling in their burrows would mean pikas would not be able to forage enough food for the winter.
I wonder what God thinks about starving pikas. People often speak on the things that are bothering God at the moment. God is disturbed because prayer has been "taken out of schools." God is upset by the secularization of our culture. Recently there was new coverage of a NJ mayor who inveighed during a township committee meeting that a law requiring school curriculum to instruct on the political, economic, and social contributions of LGBT people was "an affront to Almighty God."
There is a post I see every so often on Facebook that notes the certainties of some Christians about God being furious over same sex marriages or some other hot button social issue and then wonders why God wasn't similarly upset by the centuries long enslavement, torture, rape, murder, separation of families and more of people of color by Christians in this country.
If Christians are going to speculate on what God is angry or upset about, wouldn't you expect the list to be very similar to the things that Jesus got upset about? Yet in my estimation, those Christians who are most certain about what is infuriating God rarely seem to share much from Jesus' list.
I have to think that those things that so bothered Jesus still upset God. Jesus spoke of visiting prisoners and feeding the hungry, of good news for the poor and oppressed, and of wealth as a curse. If God gets upset that the same things that upset Jesus, why doesn't God make that upset clear? Why doesn't intervene on behalf of the poor and weak?
I don't have good answers to such questions. If I were God I'd be making late night visits to lots of politicians to spur them into action on the climate, healthcare, and income disparity. But I'm not God and God clearly has other plans.
If Jesus is our best picture of God, then we have met a God who suffers for us, or perhaps because of us. In Jesus, the innocent suffers for the sins of the guilty. It is a pattern that repeats all to often in our world. Immigrant children do not deserve to be in separated from parents and housed under atrocious conditions. Children born into poverty do not deserve to have limited educational opportunities and substandard healthcare. And pikas did nothing to cause climate change.
Too often Christians have spoken of the cross as a magic formula where Jesus suffers for us. But what if the cross is more about God's solidarity with those who suffer? God enters into the suffering of those at the bottom, suffering inflicted by the powerful. In the gospels stories, Jesus' suffering and death isn't brought on by immorality or failing to follow the rules. It is brought on by an unholy alliance of imperial power and organized religion, both of whom fear a God aligned with the least and the lost. That is no less true today.
If Jesus is the image of the invisible God, then I can only imagine that God weeps over children in detention centers and over starving pikas. But God rarely seems to act, at least not in ways that are apparent to me. Perhaps God expects those who claim to walk in the way of Jesus to act, to side with the weak and vulnerable in ways that infuriate the comfortable and powerful. Perhaps God weeps most of all for a church that so often worships wealth and desires power.
Sabbatical Journal 10
Despite all this signage, I don't think a day went by that I did not see park visitors ignoring the warnings. Sometimes they were allowing children to play in areas that were clearly marked off limits. Other times people were trying to get closer to some object than was permitted. Most often, someone was trying to get the perfect photo or selfie, fragile ecosystem be damned.
In the first of two different creation stories in the book of Genesis, God creates humans beings, both male and female, blesses them and says, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing, that moves upon the earth." Too often, humans seem to have heard these words to say, "The earth is yours to do with as you like," but that is not at all what God said.
Recall that the earth and everything in it is called "good" by its Creator. While some subduing may be needed to survive, it is not about overcoming anything bad. More critically, the command to "have dominion over" the world's creatures, to act in some way as lords over creation, must surely be understood through the example of lordship given by God and, most especially for Christians, by the lordship of Jesus.
God has dominion over humankind but people are never viewed as assets to be used by God. God may become frustrated and angry at humans for their wayward behavior, but God never uses humans for amusement or simply because God can. God's dominion is always tinged with love and paternal concern.
In Jesus, we see God's dominion most fully, a lordship that gives itself for those under that dominion. And yet we humans often seek power because it allows us to do what we want, to get out way. This impulse seems no less evident among those who call themselves Christian. In America, money is power, and almost all of us chase after it to varying degrees. Having money allows one to be in charge of more, to be lord of more, and such lordship is most often used in very self-centered ways.
Those with wealth move into areas with better schools, leaving those with less to struggle in school systems without adequate resources. The growing wealth divide in America is but one example of lordship that works almost solely for the lords, a sort of lordship too often seen in our destruction of the environment, and a sort of lordship that looks nothing like that modeled by the one we Christians claim to follow.
As the summer begins to draw to a close, many churches will begin to think and talk about stewardship. While this often turns out to be little more that church fundraising, stewardship is about how it is we exercise dominion over what we have. But because the prevailing models of dominion in our culture are "getting what I want" ones rather than Christ-like models, the term stewardship has come to describe attempts to pry enough money from members' pockets to keep the place running.
I am fortunate to have dominion over more areas of my life than many others do. I am relatively secure financially and have a significant amount of freedom and autonomy in my work and private life. But the crucial question for me, and for many others, is how am I exercising that dominion? Does my use of money and power and freedom look anything like the way of Jesus? Or does it look just like the ways of a broken world?
Saturday, August 3, 2019
Sabbatical Journal 9
I’ve just arrived in Kings Canyon National Park which abuts Sequoia National park and actually has some of the largest sequoias within its bounds. Capturing one of those huge trees on camera is difficult. A good filmmaker can do it, perhaps, but the grand scale doesn’t seem to come through in my pictures and videos.
I was previously in Grand Canyon National Park, the same difficulty is even more pronounced there. With a helicopter and specialized cameras and lenses perhaps I would do better, but when I was standing there looking at the endless vista I said to myself, “You really can’t fully appreciate this without being here.”
Faith may well be a similar sort of thing. You can learn a great deal about it and gather all sorts of helpful information about it, but it’s not the same thing as experiencing it. I’ve often used a quote about Mainline churches that came from someone at the Alban Institute, perhaps Roy Oswald but I don’t really remember. He said, “People come to us seeking an experience of God and we give them information about God.”
Of course part of the problem is that we cannot manufacture the experience. True experience of God is wild and unmanageable, not unlike experiencing a stunning sunset in the Grand Canyon. America’s national parks provide incredible access where wild experiences can be had, but even here there are no guarantees or control. Haze might obscure a great canyon view or clouds might blot out any stunning sunset. But the parks do what they can to give you the best possible shot at experiencing the grandeur nature has to offer.
What is the analog for the church and experiencing God? As with weather in the park, there is much we cannot control, but how do we best point people to the correct spot at the right time with some hints at what to look for and then get out of the way so they can experience it?
Sabbatical Journal 8
Once I got moving again, I’ve not done much writing. Some of that is the result of getting into a hectic schedule again. Getting from one place to the next then hiking till I’m exhausted in order to see everything. I can’t say that I’m not enjoying it though, and I haven’t a lot of profound thoughts about my journey.
I have become very comfortable with being alone. On a few occasions I’ve told myself a joke. I hope that’s not a sign of any sort of deeper problem. And there was no one else to tell. I’ve even gotten used to social media aloneness. WiFi and decent cell service have been hard to come by, and so I’ve not shared pictures on Instagram and such in a number of days. (When I get WiFi again, should I go back and catch up on my pictures or just not worry about it?) Fortunately I’ve been able to get enough texts through to let my wife know I’m alive.
I would have thought that I’d be feeling lonely by now and craving conversation with someone. I’ve had some nice conversations here and there but not because I sought them out. They just happened. Maybe my true religious calling is as a hermit, a modern-day, desert father. But I’d want to make sure it was in a cooler type desert, at least at night. I can’t sleep when it’s really hot, and I’m assuming that desert fathers don’t have air conditioning. I know my tent doesn’t.
Another surprise is that I don’t really miss eating they way I do at home. I tend to eat a good breakfast and supper and then nibble and graze the rest of the time, right up until bedtime. But I can’t carry very much food on the motorcycle and there isn’t a pantry with crackers and snacks to munch on all evening long.
That I’ve hardly noticed the lack of snacks makes me wonder about all that eating at home. I’ve not felt hungry without all the snacking, although I have lost a good deal of weight. Some people might be delighted but my wife thinks I’m too thin already.
If, for some reason, I were trying to lose weight, I would be feeling hungry all the time. But here I am losing more weight than I should, and I feel no pangs of hunger at all. What does that say about the things that motivate and drive us?
There’s a line at the end of Voltaire’s Candide (It’s been forever since I read it so I’m not sure I can quote it.) where Candide says, “But we must tend out garden.” It seems I’ve been so busy tending my garden that the things that typically clamor for my attention have a hard time getting through.
This garden tending is a different sort of busyness than usually occupies my life. Modern people tend to live hectic lives and then seek solace in “leisure time.” But what if that’s not how it works. What if we just need to tend out garden?
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