Sunday, December 20, 2020

Sermon: Joining Mary in Her Yes

 Luke 1:26-38
Joining Mary in Her “Yes”
James Sledge                                                                                       December 20, 2020

Annunciation to Mary, stained glass, Cathédrale de Chartres
from Art in the Christian Tradition,
a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library

There’s a banking commercial where a spokesperson walks through the bank, holding up his phone and says, “With a top rated app that lets you deposit checks and transfer money anytime, anywhere, banking with (our bank) is like the easiest decision in the history of decisions. Kind of like…” and the scene then shifts to an outdoor basketball court.

Two children are choosing players for their teams. Opposite them are four possible teammates to choose from: three children about their size, along with college and NBA great, Charles Barkley. The little girl who chooses first takes, not surprisingly, Sir Charles, who proceeds to celebrate saying “Yes! I still got it.” And looking down at the boy next him continues, “I told you she’d pick me first!” as the boy looks disgusted.

When I was a kid, we called this “choosing up sides.” It was a familiar ritual in the PE classes and playground gatherings of my youth. Basketball, softball, football, and more; two captains took turns picking teammates. It was great to be picked first, awful to be last.

Even if choosing up sides wasn’t part of your childhood experience, we’ve all dealt with versions of it. High school students take SATs and ACTs, send out applications to colleges and universities, then wait to see if they get chosen. Those graduating from college interview with employers and hope they get chosen. A supervisor position opens up at the plant and some of the workers apply and wait to see if they get chosen.

These adult choosing rituals may be a little more sophisticated than their playground cousin. For the most part they don’t include the public humiliation of being chosen last, but they still function in much the same way, trying to pick the best person available. 

This process is deeply ingrained into American culture. Traditionally, we are strong believers in meritocracy, in people being able to become and do all they are able to. We have little use for the rigid class systems of some other societies, where no matter how hard someone works, she can never advance beyond the status into which she was born.

Our system often serves us well, but it also shapes our understanding of what it means to be chosen. Whether it’s being able to shoot a basketball, close more big deals, design better software, and on and on, in our minds, being chosen means being judged superior or preferable to some other possible choice. 

And so we come to our gospel reading where the angel Gabriel shows up to say God has chosen Mary. “Greetings, favored one!”  Now we Protestants have never been quite sure what to do with Mary. A distaste for Roman Catholic practices of venerating, even praying to Mary has often led to dismissing her as much as possible. “She  had a baby, and she was a mom, nothing more,” said the men who ran the church.

Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Sunday, December 13, 2020

Sermon: Upside Down World

The Visitation, Jesus MAFA, Cameroon, 1973

Luke 1:46b-55
Upside Down World

James Sledge       December 13, 2020 – Advent 2

Many years ago, in the early 1960s, a small, rental car company begin to run what many consider the best advertising campaign of all time. Some of you no doubt remember this campaign from what was then called Avis Rent-A-Car. In various print and television ads, Avis proudly announced, “We’re number 2. We try harder.” The idea was that because they were number  2 behind Hertz, they had to work harder for your business.

The campaign was a huge success, and Avis just retired the “We Try Harder” slogan in 2012. At the time the ad campaign premiered, Hertz controlled the vast majority of the car rental business, around three quarters of it. Way back in Hertz’s dust were a group of smaller companies fighting over the remaining twenty five percent. But by the late 1960s, Avis was challenging Hertz for number one.

In in one of the first ever commercials to make a virtue out of being the little guy, Avis was very successful in convincing people that they would get better service from an upstart. But “We Try Harder” wasn’t the only message Avis was selling in their ads, even though it was the only clearly stated one. The claim, “We’re number 2” appeared to be a simple statement of fact, but in reality Avis may not have been number 2 at all, It was one of several bottom feeders fighting for the crumbs left by Hertz, but the ad campaign convinced everyone that they were Hertz’s rival. It changed people’s perception of things.

You may wonder what this has to do with Mary’s song. The Magnificat isn’t advertising. It does, however, make a number of bold claims. God is about to turn the world upside down, scattering the proud, bringing down the powerful and lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry with good things while sending the rich away empty. But perhaps unnoticed by us, our attention focused on Mary’s words, Luke’s story of Jesus’ birth speaks of a world already turned upside down.

Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Sermon: The Grass Withers... BUT

 Isaiah 40:1-11
The Grass Withers… BUT

James Sledge                                                               December 6, 2020 – Advent 2

Christ the Good Shepherd, 5th century mosaic
in the Mausoleum of Gall Placidia, Ravenna, Italy

I’m no musician, but I love music. I like many kinds, though I typically listen to alternative, or indie music in the car or at my desk. One sort of music I don’t much like is Christmas songs from popular bands. That is true when they cover traditional songs, but even more so when they create original ones.

A notable exception for me is rather different holiday offering from Greg Lake of Emerson, Lake, and Palmer fame. It was released way back in 1975, but it has been covered more recently by folks such as U2. Some have said it is an anti-religious song, but Lake claims it was a protest over the commercialization of Christmas. Regardless, the lyrics are hardly the typical, cheery, holiday fare.

They said there'll be snow at Christmas.  They said there'll be peace on earth.

But instead it just kept on raining;  A veil of tears for the virgin's birth.

They sold me a dream of Christmas.  They sold me a silent night.

And they told me a fairy story 'till I believed in the Israelite.

Like I said; not your typical holiday fare, and Lake was surprised when it became something of a hit. He assumed people would think it anti-holiday and reject it, but no. 

I don’t know why it was a hit, but I do know why it touched me, why it still touches me. It seems to strip away the manufactured cheer that has become such a big part of the Christmas season. Perhaps it could even be called a rock and roll Advent song. Our culture’s celebration of Christmas works very hard to create warmth and good feelings, but these are usually quite shallow and fleeting. We don’t expect them to last. They’ll be tossed to the curb with the dried up Christmas trees, boxes, and old wrapping paper. Then we’ll have to wait until next December to get that holiday spirit, that Christmas cheer, once more.

But Advent is different. It doesn’t try to hide from the world’s pain or ugliness by covering it in colorful wrapping and holiday glitter or drowning it out in cheerful sounds of the holidays. It takes full stock of how things really are. Then, with eyes of faith, it sees God moving in history. Advent anticipates what God is doing to bring about something truly new.

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Sermon: Advent Imagination

 Isaiah 64:1-9
Advent Imagination

James Sledge                                                               November 29, 2020, Advent 1

On my office computer, I have files of my sermons stretching back 25 years. Often when I contemplate a new sermon, I’ll look back at those files. I’ll check to see what I said about the same passage in the past. And so I looked to see what I’d said about Isaiah 64 on the first Sunday in Advent.

Advent marks the start of a new year on the Christian calendar, and I saw that several of my previous sermons for this day looked back on events of the previous year. This year has been one we may well want to forget. The pace of climate change accelerated and climate projections became more dire. A devastating pandemic swept the globe, sickening tens of millions, and killing a quarter of a million in the US alone. Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and far too many others were murdered, in large part because black skin is still less valued than white. This unleashed waves of protest and unrest. And just to put a cherry on top of this awful year, our president seems incapable of losing with a shred of class or dignity, or even admitting he lost.

But 2020 is hardly the only year we wanted to put in the rearview mirror. My Advent sermon from 2005 noted that the previous twelve months had seen a horrific tsunami in southeast Asia, mounting US casualties and violence in Iraq, a then record hurricane season that included Katrina striking New Orleans, then shortly thereafter, a devastating earthquake in Pakistan. For good measure an AIDS epidemic was wiping out entire communities in sub-Saharan Africa.

More recently, my 2014 sermon looked back on events eerily similar to this year. Michael Brown was killed by police in Ferguson, Missouri. Prior to that, Eric Garner died in a police chokehold as he cried, “I can’t breathe.” Is it too much to hope this will someday change?

Dismay at the state of things is at the heart of our Old Testament reading this morning.  Some folks have this idea that real faith insulates you from despair, that people of deep faith do not experience God’s absence. But the writers of the Bible feel despair. Jesus feels abandoned by God.

Sunday, November 22, 2020

Sermon: Good News for Little Piggies

 Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Ephesians 1:15-23
Good News for Little Piggies

James Sledge                                                                           November 22, 2020

Some of you likely recall the old Beatles song off The White Album entitled, “Piggies.” The four, short verses were set to a fun, bouncy little tune, but the words contain biting, social commentary.

Have you seen the little piggies
Crawling in the dirt?
And for all the little piggies
Life is getting worse
Always having dirt to play around in

Have you seen the bigger piggies
In their starched white shirts?
You will find the bigger piggies
Stirring up the dirt
Always have clean shirts to play around in

In their styes with all their backing
They don't care what goes on around
In their eyes there's something lacking
What they need's a damn good whacking

Everywhere there’s lots of piggies
Living piggie lives
You will see them out for dinner
With their piggie wives
Clutching forks and knives to eat the bacon

Little piggies and bigger piggies. The prophet Ezekiel makes a very similar move, but being Jewish, he can’t use pigs. Instead he speaks of lean sheep and fat sheep, offering the same sort of social commentary George Harrison did in his song. Ezekiel joins a long line of God’s prophets who speak judgment against the wealthy who enjoy the good life at the expense of the weak and the poor.

I don’t know that the world has changed all that much from Ezekiel’s day. America has had a rather remarkable run where a large middle class enjoyed the fruits of the economy, but that seems to be breaking down. Our economic system is becoming more and more skewed toward the wealthy, the well to do, the bigger piggies, the fat sheep.

But Ezekiel insists that God will intervene on behalf of the lean sheep, the scattered and hungry sheep. God will seek out the lost and bring back those who have strayed, who’ve been battered and injured. And this claim is all the more remarkable given the people to whom Ezekiel speaks it, exiles in Babylon.

Sunday, November 15, 2020

Sermon: Big Risks

 Matthew 25:14-30
Big Risks
James Sledge                                                                                       November 15, 2020
 

The Parable of the Three Servants, JESUS MAFA, 1973
from the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN

In every place where I’ve served as a pastor, I’ve become a part of some sort of clergy group, sometimes multiple ones. Some were purely social; some were lectionary study groups; some were meant to be support groups of some sort. But whatever their primary purpose, all of them featured a certain amount of pastors sharing, and sometimes complaining about, their congregations.

Different congregations can have very different personalities. Just like people, some are introverted and some are extroverted. Some always worry about money, no matter how much they have, and some manage to keep conflict going most all the time. But congregations that are very different can still share things in common.

One thing I’ve seen in many congregations is a kind of conservatism. I’m not talking about politics. This conservatism can be quite strong in the most politically liberal congregation. Merriam-Webster gives two different definitions of conservatism. One is a “disposition in politics to preserve what is established,” The other is “the tendency to prefer an existing or traditional situation to change.” I’m talking about the second.

There’s an old church joke that gets used interchangeably with Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and a few others. It goes, “How many Presbyterians does it take to change a light bulb?” The answer, “Change?!!” Generally speaking, the times when people have gotten the maddest at me was when I changed the order of worship or the doxology, or when I was seen as supporting a change from “the way we’ve always done it.”

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Prepared to Wait

 Matthew 25:1-13
Prepared to Wait
James Sledge                                                                                     November 8, 2020

The Wise Virgins, James Tissot
During the day on Tuesday, election day, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and saw a post from a “friend” asking everyone who believed in the power of prayer to take a moment and share his post, a prayer for the nation. It wasn’t one of those ridiculous posts promising something good if enough people shared it. My “friend” was simply hoping that by sharing it others would offer the same, short prayer for healing and guidance. At least I think that’s what it said. I only looked at it briefly before scrolling on down the page.

I started scrolling almost as soon as I realized what the post was asking. I don’t really know why, but later it dawned on me that I do that most anytime I run across a prayer on Facebook. And not  just when the prayers are trite or formulaic. I’ll scroll right past prayers posted by our denomination, by the editor of Presbyterian Outlook, and so on.

Perhaps this is just an aversion I’ve developed over the years from hearing too many prayers that sounded like magic formulas or seemed to view God like a genie or fairy godmother. Maybe seeing and hearing so many bad prayers has made me cynical and suspicious about all public prayers. Maybe.

Or maybe I have a deeper issue with such prayers, even when they’re not bad prayers. Praying for God to heal our bitter partisan divide or to give our leaders the wisdom needed to govern well involves some level of expectation that God might actually do something, might actually touch people’s hearts and remove hatreds, might actually change the hearts and minds of elected leaders. Perhaps when I quickly scroll past prayers on Facebook, it’s really just a way to avoid dealing with my own faith issues.

Sunday, November 1, 2020

Sermon: Living as Saints

 Matthew 5:1-12
Living as Saints

James Sledge                                                                         November 1, 2020 – All Saints

The Sermon on the Mount
Gary Bunt

    Every culture has its wisdom literature, wise sayings and proverbs. “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” said Benjamin Franklin.  A lot of American proverbial wisdom speaks of things that lead to success such as Thomas Edison’s, “Genius is ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration.”

Such proverbial wisdom is generally meant to be self-evident. By that I mean that once you hear it, its truth will strike you. You will agree that while some people are smarter and more creative, hard work matters greatly. Either that or you will reject it as wisdom entirely.

People have sometimes approached the Sermon on the Mount, and especially its Beatitudes, as though they were pearls of wisdom to guide us on the path of success and well-being. Robert Schuller, of Crystal Cathedral fame, wrote a book back in the 1980s entitled, The Be (Happy) Attitudes: 8 Positive Attitudes That Can Transform Your Life. In it he says, “As we look upon the Beatitudes – The Be-Happy Attitudes – of Jesus Christ, you will discover our Lord’s key to joyful living.”[1]

Schuller sees each Beatitude as a wise saying that is a guide to happiness. The word translated “blessed” in our scripture can mean “happy,” but it is quite a stretch to speak of happiness being found in poverty of spirit, mourning, or being persecuted. And in fact, Schuller must get quite creative in explaining how Jesus’ blessings lead to happiness, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” becomes “I’m really hurting—but I’m going to bounce back!” And “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake” becomes, “I can choose to be happy—anyway!”[2]

This twisting of Jesus’ words is patently absurd, but Schuller’s bigger mistake is thinking that Jesus’ blessings are proverbs at all. They’re not. They are categorical statements about an unexpected reality not evident to the world. It is God’s view of things and so the shape of the new world that God is creating, the Kingdom that Jesus says has “come near.” 

This reality is not self-evident. It is rooted in the character of God and is dependent on the trustworthiness of the one who speaks it, not anything we do. Jesus is describing something at odds with the world as we know it. No one listens to Jesus and nods in agreement saying, “O yes, yes, it is quite good and enjoyable to be persecuted or to weep and mourn.”  Instead, Jesus speaks of a new reality that we are invited to become a part of.

Sunday, October 25, 2020

Sermon: The Things That Spark Joy

 John 15:1-11
The Things That Spark Joy

James Sledge                                                                                       October 25, 2020

The True Vine, Adam Cope, 2010
    Not so long ago, the decluttering technique from Marie Kondo was all the rage. She even did a Netflix series, “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo.” No doubt some of you have used her methods. I’m not one of them as anyone who’s ever visited my office well knows.

This method involves gathering all your belongings together, one category at a time. For example, you might start with your clothes or books or mementos. You go through each item in the category and discard any to do not “spark joy.”

Regardless of whether or not you plan to do some decluttering, what are the things that spark joy for you? Joy strikes me as something deeper, more profound than happiness, and in John’s gospel, Jesus speaks repeatedly about joy during his final evening with the disciples. We heard a couple of those in the last verse of our reading this morning. “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.”

I have said these things… These things must be what we should hold onto in order to have Jesus’ joy within us. So what are these things? No doubt they include some things we didn’t hear this morning about Jesus’ oneness with the Father and the promise of the Holy Spirit. But our reading gives some specific instructions. We are to abide in Jesus, bear fruit, become disciples, and keep Jesus’ commandments. Jesus tells us these things so that his joy will be in us and our joy will be full, complete.

That brings me back to the question of what brings you joy. Despite the popularity of Marie Kondo and the idea of decluttering, our culture works very hard to convince us that happiness, joy, and fulfillment come from acquisition. We need bigger, better, and fancier, more excitement, more power, more status, more, more, more. But Jesus speaks becoming disciples and obeying him, of being branches, bearing fruit, and being pruned so we bear more fruit.

Sunday, October 4, 2020

Sermon: Joined to God's Blessedness

 Exodus 20:1-20
Joined to God’s Blessedness

James Sledge                                                                                       October 4, 2020

From time to time the 10 Commandments take the stage in America’s culture wars. Some
municipality posts the Commandments in the hall where they meet or some judge insists on displaying them at the courthouse, only to have such moves declared unconstitutional.

Public displays of the 10 Commandments have always struck me as a rather odd choice of battles by conservative Christians. Such Christians often dismiss much of Old Testament law as being superseded by Jesus and a new covenant. But I suppose putting up sayings from Jesus such as “Blessed are the poor… Love your enemy… Turn the other cheek… Do not judge so that you may not be judged…” don’t quite set the right tone.

Placing the Commandments in court houses is sometimes justified with the claim that they form the basis for our civil laws, which makes me wonder if these folks ever actually read the commandments. Only three of them, those against murder, theft, and false witness, actually correspond to our civil laws, and the need for such laws is so obvious we don’t need God to tell us. Cultures that never heard of the 10 Commandments outlaw murder and theft.

Then there’s the fact that our culture and our economy depend on violating some of these commandments. We are a 24/7 culture that puts little value on stillness and rest, the heart of the command to keep Sabbath. Factories run 24/7 because it’s more efficient. Stores and restaurants stay open 24/7, and advertise that fact proudly. And even most who do attempt to keep Sabbath still expect stores, movies, gas stations, and places to eat to stay open for them.

And if we subvert Sabbath with our 24/7 culture, we’ve actually made coveting a cornerstone of our economy. Every day we are bombarded with advertising designed to make us covet, to want things that others have and we don’t. Our economy depends on convincing enough of us that we need more and more, that if our neighbor has newer and better stuff, we should want it. And we should be willing to go into debt, stress constantly about money, work more hours, and out compete our neighbor so that we can have it.

Of course the 10 Commandments were never intended as generic, common sense rules to govern a well-run society. Yes, a few such rules are there, but the central purpose of the commandments is to create a radically different, alternative community, one that looks very different from the world, one that has much in common with kingdom Jesus proclaims.

This radically alternative community is perhaps best seen in those opening commands about other gods, idols, and misusing God’s name. These commands do not form the basis for any civil law. Rather, they stand in opposition to the distorted cultures we humans devise.

_________________________________________________________________________

Sunday, September 27, 2020

Sermon: Holy Remembering

 Philippians 2:1-13
Holy Remembering

James Sledge                                                                           September 27, 2020

 Quotes from Mohandas Gandhi, who led a non-violent campaign against British rule in India, often
show up on social media, although revelations of racist attitudes toward Blacks have damaged his reputation recently. “You must be the change you wish to see in the world” “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.”  And though it’s not certain that he actually said it, I’m struck by this one. “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” 

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.

The quote from Paul and the one from Gandhi seem incompatible. If Christians have the mind of Christ then how could we be so unlike Christ. Yet there is a ring of truth to the Gandhi quote. Too often, Christians do look very little like Jesus. Too often, no one would look at us and think they had caught a glimpse of Jesus, even though that’s what it means to wear the name “Christian.”

When you meet people from another country or culture, especially if it’s a place you’ve never been, you are likely to draw some conclusions about the country or culture from the people you meet. The reverse is true when Americans travel abroad. The way American tourists act in foreign countries gives people an impression of what America is like. 

Gandhi was not Christian but lived in a country that had been ruled by Christians for centuries. What he saw did not impress him. But he also read about Jesus from the Bible, and he was impressed with Jesus.

Gandhi is hardly the only one to encounter Christians who were nothing like Christ. One has to wonder how the Africans brought to America as slaves ever saw Jesus in those who brutalized them and regarded them as property like cows or sheep. How was it that so many slaves embraced faith in a Jesus whose mind was so rarely on display in their “Christian” oppressors? Sometimes I find it nothing short of amazing that anything even resembling the way of Jesus has survived, given how often Christians look nothing like Jesus.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Sermon: Christ Working through Us

 Philippians 1:21-30
Christ Working Through Us

James Sledge                                                                                       September 20, 2020

Following our worship this morning, we will hold a congregational meeting where we will elect a Congregational Nominating Committee or CNC. That CNC will nominate new elders and deacons to be elected by the congregation early next year.

If you’ve ever served on a nominating committee, you know it can be a difficult task. Most every CNC I’ve ever been a part of has dealt with the frustration of being turned down by people they think would make excellent elders or deacons. Inevitably there are more meetings to come up with more names. The whole point of a CNC is to prayerful discern those whom God is calling to lead the congregation, but some years it begins to feel like just filling slots. “Surely there is someone who will do this.”

People have many reasons for saying “No” to a nominating committee. Many are busy and feel like they already have too much on their plates. Often times they say they might consider it the next year. Some people don’t feel they are qualified, doubting that they have enough faith, enough knowledge of the Bible, or enough leadership qualities. Some aren’t sure their personal beliefs line up with Presbyterian doctrines. Others give no reason at all.

In the Bible, when God calls someone, they typically turn down the job as well. But God rarely takes “No” for an answer, and ends up convincing the person, often against their better judgment, to say “Yes.” Nominating Committees are rarely so persuasive. They’re also not God which means they are never 100% sure that God is calling any particular person. For that reason, Presbyterians say that a genuine call has three parts: the individual’s own sense of God’s call, the requisite gifts for the work, and the faith community’s confirming the call.

Sunday, September 13, 2020

Empowered to Do the Impossible

 Matthew 18:21-35
Empowered to Do the Impossible

James Sledge                                                                                       September 13, 2020


Two young children are playing together in a park. Their mothers sit nearby, drinking coffee and chatting with one another. The toddlers are regular playmates and usually get along well, but of course there is the occasional scuffle that their moms have to break up.

That happened on this particular day. One child had a toy the other wanted. “Let me have it,” and “No! I had it first” escalated to grabbing, a brief tug-o-war, and then shoving. Finally one child shoved the other to the ground and made off with the prize, leaving his friend crying in defeat. By then, all the fussing had attracted their mothers’ attention so that they witness the shoving and final victory.

The moms rush over, each grabbing her child by the hand, fussing at them and demanding they apologize to each other. Neither wanted to do any such thing, but they had learned that the moms would eventually win this battle. And so, begrudgingly, not looking directly at each other and not meaning it at all, both uttered, “I’m sorry.” But the moment their moms’ gazes were diverted, they stuck their tongues out at each other.

Even if the moms had seen that, they might not have said anything. We don’t really expect small children fully to understand apologies and forgiveness. We just hope that with enough repetition such practices will take hold over time.

As we grow up and become adults, we do get better. Often we are genuinely sorry when we hurt someone, and we know that forgiveness is necessary for relationships to work. But saying you’re sorry can be hard, and we live in a day when people regularly offer apologies that don’t sound much like apologies. “I’m sorry if anyone was offended by what I said.”

Real forgiveness can be equally hard. I suspect that most all of us nurse a grudge now and then. There is someone, maybe several someones, who rubs us the wrong way, who’s done something to us that we just can’t let go of, who’s hurt us too many times to be forgiven again. That may make Jesus’ words a little unnerving.

Jesus says we must forgive seventy-seven times, or it could be seventy times seven; either translation is possible. Even more disturbing, Jesus says we must forgive from the heart. Nothing forced or done just because you’re supposed to. No “Okay, I guess I’ll forgive you,” but genuine, heartfelt forgiveness, even to that person who has hurt us one too many times.

There is a famous and perhaps true story about the German poet Heinrich Heine on his deathbed. Supposedly an attendant priest promised Heine that God would forgive him. To which Heine quipped, “Of course God will forgive me; that’s his job.”

While probably not be as flippant as Heine, many Christians seem to share this sentiment that God is in the forgiveness business and more or less has to forgive. Dietrich Bonhoeffer referred to such easy, assumed forgiveness as “cheap grace,” and I wonder if cheap grace notions of forgiveness may cause us to misread what Jesus says to us today.

That and the fact that our reading is ripped out of context. I’ve mentioned many times the problems inherent in chopping up scripture into manageable bits for reading on Sundays, and today’s passage is a perfect example.

When Peter comes to Jesus and asks how often he should forgive a church member who sins against him, he is responding to words Jesus has just spoken that aren’t part of our reading. “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. 16But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. 17If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”

This puts a whole different spin on what Jesus says in our reading today about forgiving seventy-seven times from the heart. This is not a generic command simply to forgive. Rather it is one component of the radically different community Jesus expects the Church to be, a community of unlimited forgiveness, but also of real accountability.

That latter part is almost completely absent in most of American Christianity. In America, faith is generally considered a private thing between me and God. But Jesus doesn’t think that. For that matter, neither do the official statements of our denomination which include a long list of responsibilities for church members such as participation in worship and ministry, studying scripture, contributing money, time, and talents, working for peace and justice in the world, praying for one another, demonstrating a new quality of life, and more.

Along with these, the responsibilities of a congregation’s Session include, and I’m just going to quote this one, “reviewing the roll of active members at least annually and counseling with those who have neglected the responsibilities of membership.”[1] In my  twenty some years of pastoral ministry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Session do that one.

In my sermon last week, I wondered if we hadn’t lost something when the metaphor of church as a family fell out of favor. Again this week, I’m wondering if the example of family, at least a healthy, loving, well-adjusted family, might not be instructive for what a church community should look like.

In healthy families, membership in the family is never in question. No matter how badly someone messes up, love remains. The parents of murderers visit them in prison. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t expectations about behavior and consequences when those are ignored or willfully violated. The parent who never corrects or disciplines a child has a misguided sense of love.

I wonder what it might take, and what it might look like, to become the sort of community Jesus envisions the church to be. What would it mean to be a congregation where all were welcome, where being a part of the community had nothing to do with being good enough or accomplished enough, but at the very same time there were clear expectations that everyone would engage in work and study and ministry that deepened their faith, that helped them become more committed disciples, and helped give the world a glimpse of the new day Jesus envisioned when he spoke of the Kingdom? And where there was correction, even loving discipline, when people failed to do so.

Perhaps that seems a fantasy, even more difficult that forgiving from the heart over and over and over, seventy times seven. But then again, the scriptures insist that the Holy Spirit can empower the church to do miraculous, even impossible things.

Come, Holy Spirit, come.



[1] Book of Order, G-3.0201c

Sunday, September 6, 2020

Sermon: Laws, Rules, and Who We Truly Are

Romans 13:8-10
Laws, Rules, and Who We Truly Are
James Sledge                                                                                       September 6, 2020

I hope I haven’t told this too many times, but there’s an old joke about an engaged couple who are killed just days before their wedding. On arriving in heaven they say to St. Peter, “We were supposed to get married this weekend. Is it possible to get married in heaven?”
Peter thought for a moment and said, “I suppose so. I’ll get right back to you.”
A year later, Peter came to the couple and said, “Everything’s worked out. We’re ready for your wedding.”
 “That’s great,” they replied, “but you know, we’ve had a year to think about this, and we were just wondering. If things don’t work out, is it possible to get a divorce in heaven?”
Peter rolled his eyes and said, “It took me a whole year to find a minister in this place. Now you want me to find a lawyer!?”
Long ago, when ministers were held in high regard, this joke might not have worked. But between Joel Osteen, Creflo Dollar, Jim Bakker, pedophile priests, and evangelical leaders more interested in political power than Jesus’ teachings, pastors are fair game now.
Lawyers, on the other hand, have been the butt of jokes for centuries. Shakespeare had characters in his plays speak ill of them. Obviously many lawyers are good and decent folk who conduct themselves with integrity, but a number of factors cause people to dislike them. Some view them as helping criminals, or as money hungry “ambulance chasers.” It doesn’t help that lots of politicians are lawyers. Then there is simply the nature of laws themselves.

Sunday, August 30, 2020

Sermon: Consumers, Faith, and God's Call

Exodus 3:1-15; (Matthew 16:21-28)
Consumers, Faith, and God’s Call
James Sledge                                                                                                   August 30, 2020

I don’t suppose I need to tell anyone that we live in an age when many people see no necessary link between what they hold to be true and what evidence, facts, or logic might seem to dictate. This is not entirely new. The quip, “My mind is made up. Don’t confuse me with the facts,” has apparently been around since before I was born.
However, the idea that people can simply choose the truth that suits them has reached new heights in our day. I’m not sure there was ever a prior moment in American history when the term “alternative facts” would have been offered as a serious answer to any question.
The notion that I can have whatever truth suits me is not without serious, even dangerous consequences. Many continue to insist that climate change in not a problem despite overwhelming scientific evidence. And choosing one’s own truth need not be partisan, I know my share of liberals who embrace the most absurd conspiracy theories while insisting that the complete lack of supporting evidence is the result of some plot to keep that information hidden.
But I don’t bring any of this up to lament the state of rational discourse in our day. I’m more interested in how we got here and how it impacts our spiritual lives. I doubt there is a definitive answer as to how we found this

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Sermon - Traditions: Big "T" or Little "t"

Matthew 15:1-28
Traditions: Big “T” or Little “t”
James Sledge                                                                                       August 16, 2020

Some of you may recall that when I first became pastor here, the Lord’s Prayer concluded the prayers of the people on most Sundays. On communion Sundays, it moved, becoming part of the Great Thanksgiving in the Lord’s Supper liturgy. (We had no informal service then, only the one in the sanctuary.)
We Presbyterians don’t have a fixed, mandated liturgy, but we do have a Book of Common Worship which suggests an order of service rooted in our theological understanding of worship. The latest edition of that book says. “The norm of Christian worship is to celebrate the Lord’s Supper on each Lord’s Day. If the Lord’s Supper is omitted, the service may include a prayer of thanksgiving concluding with the Lord’s Prayer.” (p. 25)
At some point early in my time here, I brought this up in a staff meeting. We all agreed that it made sense for the prayer to be in the same relative place each week and so we began following the order in the Book of Common Worship.
When the change was made, I heard from a member who was upset, furious might be a better description. This person could not believe I moved the Lord’s Prayer from the place where it belonged and said I had ruined the integrity of the service. I did my best to explain the reasons, but to no avail. The conversation caught me a bit off guard. I’d not expected a change that I thought minor would be so offensive to someone.
All church congregations develop traditions around how they do things, and pastors violate those traditions at their own peril. There are big “T” traditions such as celebrating baptisms and the Lord’s Supper or reading Scripture and preaching from it. And there are little “t” traditions such as whether to use organ, piano, or guitars, or where the Lord’s Prayer should go in the service. But whether a tradition is a big “T” or a little one doesn’t always determine how important it is to people.
The issue of tradition runs all through our Scripture this morning, both in Jesus’ conflict with the Pharisees and his encounter with a Canaanite woman. And I feel certain that Matthew places these two stories next to one another so that they inform discussions about tradition that were surely taking place in the congregation Matthew writes for.

Sunday, August 9, 2020

Testing Faith: Stepping Out of the Boat

Matthew 14:22-33
Testing Faith: Stepping Out of the Boat
James Sledge                                                                                                   August 9, 2020

Even in an age of biblical illiteracy, a great many people have heard of Jesus walking on the water. It’s a well-worn metaphor. The part about Peter walking on the water may not be as well known, but I heard the story enough growing up in the church that it’s familiar to me and, perhaps, to many of you.
If you are familiar with the story, what are your thoughts on Peter? How does he function in this story, as a heroic figure, an example to follow? Or is he a vivid illustration of the disciples’ regular failure to “get it,” their struggles with faith?
I don’t know if I came to this on my own or if I picked it up along the way from sermons and Sunday School, but I’ve long thought of Peter as a cautionary tale, a failure, the one you don’t want to be, soaking wet with Jesus wagging a finger at you. “You of little faith…”
I mentioned in last week’s sermon how my father read Bible stories to us as children. This helped me learn many of the major stories from the Bible, but it also oversimplified them, making them a bit like comic books. And that view of Scripture stuck with me well into adulthood.
I thought of the Bible as mostly a collection of simple, even crude stories with clear and obvious meanings. This thinking was encouraged by popular notions of the Bible as straightforward reports of “what happened.” It never occurred to me that much of the Bible was written by sophisticated theological thinkers who told carefully nuanced stories, filled with symbolism and multiple layers of meaning.
In my simple, comic book view, our gospel reading is a plain old miracle story, another fantastical account of the unbelievable stuff Jesus could do. The disciples are there just to provide terrified, awe-filled witnesses, and Peter, well Peter’s tendency to speak first and think later always got him into trouble. And here he goes again.

Sunday, August 2, 2020

Sermon: Assaulted by God

Genesis 32:22-31
Assaulted by God
James Sledge                                                                                                   August 2, 2020

When I was a child, my father would read Bible stories to us before bed. I can still see the big Bible Story book he used. It had stories about Jesus, but as a child, the Old Testament stories stood out more. There were a lot of “hero” type stories: David fighting the giant Goliath with only a sling, Samson, the Hebrew version of Hercules. And then there were all those stories about Abraham and Sarah and their offspring: Isaac, Esau and Jacob, and then all of Jacob’s sons, including Joseph.
The characters in those Bible stories didn’t seem much like real people to me. Perhaps that was just how far removed they were historically and culturally. Or perhaps it was because the Bible stories themselves had a kind of comic book quality to them.
Whatever the reasons, I was well into adulthood before it dawned on me what a messed up, dysfunctional family Abraham and Sarah’s clan was. It starts with the half-brothers Ishmael and Isaac and only gets worse from there.
Rebekah and Isaac have twin boys, Esau and Jacob. Esau is the first born by a few seconds, and the sibling rivalry is off and running. Not that the parents help matters much. Dad likes Esau, and Mom likes Jacob. Esau is an outdoorsy, hunting and fishing sort of guy,  and Dad plans to pass on the family business to him. Jacob is a Momma’s boy who likes hanging out in the tent. He’s also sneaky and manipulative, a scoundrel who takes advantage of Esau’s tendency to act first and think later. And his mother is happy to assist.
Jacob and Esau are born when Isaac is quite old, and he is feeble and blind by the time the boys are fully grown. Sensing that his time is short, Isaac calls Esau and asks him to go out hunting and bring back some savory game they can enjoy together. After the meal, Isaac will formally sign over the family business. In the language of the Bible, he will bless Esau.