Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Monday, June 22, 2015

Sermon: Anger to Action?

Psalm 22:1-11; James 3:13-18
Anger to Action?
James Sledge                                                                                       June 21, 2015

I had a sermon all prepared for today. It continued our series connected to Brian McLaren’s book and talked about becoming spiritually mature, moving beyond juvenile versions of faith that get overly focused on rules or doctrines meant to guide us to maturity, and moving toward maturity, toward the spiritual wisdom James talks about in his letter. But then the shooting in Charleston happened.
When I heard the first new reports, it wasn’t clear exactly what had happened. But as more information came in, I first hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, that it wasn’t as evil as it sounded. But as the reality of it kicked in, I just felt numb.
But that began to shift toward anger. The first anger was petty and selfish. “Now I have to write a new sermon.” But that was quickly replace by anger that this had happened again. Another mass shooting. Another example of America’s horrible culture of guns and violence.
And then there was the racial component. Race, the issue we wish would just go away. The issue we think will somehow just fade away eventually. But here it is again, in all its ugliness, from a young man who grew up in what was supposed to be post racial America.
I felt anger toward the culture that nurtures such racism. I grew up in North and South Carolina. There is much I love about both states, and there have been real changes from the segregated days of my childhood. But there is still much deeply ingrained racism.. The N-word is common speech in many areas, and resentment toward blacks is deep for some.
Proper southern culture that disdains this racism nonetheless supports it. The governor of South Carolina in one breath condemned the shooting, offering heartfelt condolences and prayers for the victims and families and church, and in the next breath defended the Confederate flag flying on the grounds of the SC Statehouse.
I’ve heard all the arguments about how the flag is not about hate, but about southern heritage and pride. But a heritage of what? Pride in what? In a war the South started that cost more Americans their lives than World War II did. In a war fought to keep some human in the chains of slavery. I’m angry at a culture that imagines it can venerate those who fought such a war, can send black children to schools named for people who thought they were sub human, and it not have any hate connected to it.
And speaking of politicians, I’m angry that another mass shooting has happened, and the politicians will wring their hands and over condolences and prayers and then do absolutely nothing about an America awash in guns.
As I stewed in my anger, I even felt anger toward the Church, not Emmanuel AME Church but the church at large, because it too will wring its hands and offer its prayers and then do nothing. I’ve been in the church business now for over 20 years, and I’ve learned that I’ll get calls and emails if we sing a song people don’t like, if we change something about the worship service or the children’s programs. But no one ever calls or emails after a shooting or some other huge tragedy and says, “We have to do something.” Maybe it just seems impossible. Maybe we’ve just become cynical and think we can’t change anything other than the hymns or the children’s programs, but that alone is enough to make me angry.
And truth be told, I am angry at God, angry that God allowed this to happen, angry that God doesn’t stir up the church or the world to make things better.
But of course I knew I could not stand here today with nothing more than, “I am grieving. I am angry.” True there is a long tradition of lament in the Bible, by some counts psalms of lament are the most common sort of psalm. But even they usually have an element of hope, and I am a minister of the gospel, one called to proclaim good news.

Sermon video: Anger to Action?



Audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

What Belongs to Whom?

You've probably heard a conversation between children that went something like this. "Hey, you're sitting in my seat." To which comes the reply, "Well I don't see your name on it anywhere."

Perhaps a parent wrote your name in items that you took to school with you. I still have my name in dress shirts that get taken to the cleaners. I've known people who divvied the furniture in their home by letting children and grandchildren put their names on the pieces they wanted.

"Show me a denarius," says Jesus. "Whose head and whose title does it bear?" Whose name is on it? Jesus, as he so often does, asks a question in response to a question. This time it was a question about whether Jews should pay taxes to the emperor, an especially loaded question for any would-be Messiah. To answer "Yes" offered support to the occupying Romans, but to say "No" would risk arrest for inciting rebellion. It's a carefully crafted "gotcha" on the part of Jesus' opponents.

Jesus parries his opponents, though some of his technique is hard for modern readers to notice. It starts when his opponents are able to show Jesus a denarius, a coin that not only had a picture of the emperor but included the inscription, "Tiberius Augustus Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus." Such a coin was blasphemous to Jews and a violation of the second commandment, yet Jesus' questioners apparently have just such a coin on them.

Finally Jesus answers them, though not exactly. "Then give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are Gods." Jesus doesn't say which is which, but any good Jew who knows her psalms is well aware that "The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it." (Psalm 24)

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The second question in the Presbyterian Study Catechism asks, "How do you live by the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ?" The answer begins, "I am not my own. I have been bought with a price." (See 1 Corinthians 6:19-20) Someone else's name is on me, and on everything and everyone else.

This has huge implication, impacting everything from what I do with "my" money and "my" time to how humanity cares for the earth, yet the individualism of our culture often seems to obliterate such notions, even among those who profess the faith. I find it incredibly odd that some of the politicians most prone to trumpet their Christianity seem to think that the earth is ours to use as we see fit, that the disappearance of vast numbers of species is unimportant. Never mind that God "gives to the animals their food, and to the young ravens when they cry," (Psalm 147) and "not one sparrow is forgotten in God's sight." (Luke 12)

And if we belong to God we also belong to one another. We are not independent agents free to do whatever is best for us and us alone. Yet I saw this headline in the Washington Post earlier in the week. "Rich Californians Balk at Limits: 'We're Not All Equal When It Comes to Water.'" The attitude of some in the article seemed to be, "If I have the money to pay for it, the hell with any problems it causes for others." No wonder Jesus was a lot more popular with the poor than he was with rich folks.

The more money we have, the more stuff we start to put our names on. Do this with enough stuff and you may start to think it really is yours and yours alone. Get wealthy enough and you may even start to think you are different and better than regular people. You may not put "divine" or "Augustus" next to your name (unless, perhaps, you're Donald Trump), yet you may well begin to imagine that you matter more than other people do.

"Give to the emperor the things that belong to the emperor, and to God the things that belong to God," says Jesus. He also says that following him requires self denial, giving up possessions, and losing one's life. He actually asks me to give up things that I've written my name on. Just who does he think he is?

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Thursday, July 28, 2011

Spiritual Hiccups - I Assume I'm Right

In the current partisan bickering in Washington over raising America's debt ceiling, there seem to be different sets of assumptions at work.  One side assumes, with near certainty, than any new tax or even eliminating any tax break is anathema.  The other side assumes that we have a debt problem only because we cut taxes during George W. Bush's presidency, and if we put those revenues back, there would be no problem.  And both side assume, with absolute certainty, that the other side is not only wrong, but delusional.  In such a climate, compromise is virtually impossible because it involves caving in on your "principles."

All of us walk around with a significant number of assumptions.  It would be hard to live normal lives if we didn't, if every day was a completely blank slate and we had no template to work from, no notions of how we should respond, no framework with which to categorize and make sense of what was going on around us.  Trouble is, as necessary as assumptions and templates for living are, they are always provisional, often need adjusting, and are sometimes totally wrong.  Yet in today's political climate, my assumptions often take on the aura of religious convictions.  And with the total triumph of individualism in our culture, my own tastes and personal assumptions often take on this same aura.

In today's gospel reading, Jesus calls Philip to follow him.  Philip in turn tells Nathaniel about Jesus, but Nathaniel's response is, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  Everyone "knew" that the Messiah wouldn't come from there. 

And in Paul's words to the Roman Christians, he warns them about passing judgment on their fellow believers.  That seems to me another way of saying that our assumptions, including our religious ones, are provisional, that they are never The Truth.  And Paul writes in another famous letter that "We know only in part."  Our truths are always incomplete, and in the meantime, we are to rely on faith, hope and love, with love trumping all else.  (And the love Paul speaks of is not romantic love but the love most clearly modeled in the self-giving life of Jesus.)

Huge numbers of those doing the bickering over the debt ceiling want to claim the label "Christian," and even to apply that label to our nation.  Yet surely no one would characterize their bickering as marked primarily by faith, hope, and love, with love being the greatest. 

I wonder what our life together would look like in church congregations, in communities, in business, and in politics if the only assumption we were certain of was love?

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