Sermons and thoughts on faith on Scripture from my time at Old Presbyterian Meeting House and Falls Church Presbyterian Church, plus sermons and postings from "Pastor James," my blog while pastor at Boulevard Presbyterian in Columbus, OH.
In today's gospel verses, Jesus is in the Temple on the week of his arrest, and he tells the religious authorities another parable. This parable of the wicked tenants again emphasizes the need for the faithful to "bear fruit," to live as servants who do God's work. Jesus skillfully gets the religious authorities to condemn the wicked tenants of a vineyard who did not do their master's bidding before they realize that the parable is about them. But when Jesus says, "Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom," they get it.
In Jesus' day, the Jerusalem Temple was a center of religious activity on a scale that would dwarf almost any modern day church. Unlike many churches, where very little goes on most days of the week, the Temple was abuzz with the faithful every single day. But clearly this is not enough for Jesus.
At this time of year, the church I serve becomes a busier place than usual. There are extra choir rehearsals, attendance goes up, and special services are being planned and rehearsed. But there is also another sort of busyness. Food items are piling up in the Fellowship Hall and donated toys are being wrapped for needy children. In the midst of all the religious pomp that this time of year brings, we remember that Jesus calls us to bear fruit.
In today's reading from Matthew, Jesus is teaching in the temple just prior to his arrest. Religious authorities confront him, but Jesus does not take their bait. Instead he tells them a story.
"What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' He answered, 'I will not'; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, 'I go, sir'; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?" They said, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you."
This contrast between words and actions struck me in this Advent season. We've entered into that annual season of people expressing outrage over whether retailers print "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas" on their stores' banners. Every year, people get all worked up over whether or not the word "Christmas" gets applied to a shopping season which has little, if anything, to do with following Jesus.
Words versus actions. As today's reading from Amos makes clear, God is far more concerned about whether the poor and needy are cared for than God is about words or worship services or well crafted religiousness.
Words versus actions. Our culture pays a lot of lip service to God, but how often do we do the will of God?
Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day their plans perish. Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD their God.
So goes a portion of Psalm 146, words that jar me a bit on the day that President Obama will formally announce a troop increase in Afghanistan. Over the centuries, Christians have struggled to define when it is appropriate to resort to military force. Some traditions are pacifist, but my own has tended to embrace military action within the limits of so-call "just war" theology. But though I am theologically comfortable with the notion of a "just war," I struggle with how we are to know when to trust God, and when to take action ourselves.
One of those quotes from the Bible that isn't actually in the Bible goes, "God helps those who help themselves." But still the Bible does present us with a tension between dependence on God alongside personal responsibility. When are we to act, and when should we patiently wait, placing all trust in God? And especially when it comes to killing people and sending our soldiers to be killed, what would God have us do?
Whether or not a country goes to war is as political a decision as one can find. But for people of faith, it is surely as spiritual a decison one can imagine. When does trusting God above all, when does loving God and loving neighbor, call us to kill?
This is the first Monday in Advent, and the gospel reading for the day tells of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. "What does Palm Sunday have to do with Advent," I thought as I read Matthew's account. This prompted me to consider how Advent has become an extended celebration of Christmas, even in the Church. And I couldn't help seeing parallels with the celebration of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem just days before his arrest and execution.
Any time I tell people that Advent was originally patterned after Lent - intended as a time of repentance to prepare for celebrating the good news that God has not left humanity to fend for ourselves - they look at me like I am crazy. And the surest way I know to upset people in the pews is to sing only Advent hymns and songs prior to Christmas.
The birth of Jesus is wonderful, good news. God has decisively entered into human history in Christ, giving us a sure hope that God continues to bend history to God's will. But truly appreciating the good news and hope of Christ requires recognizing the darkness and brokenness into which Jesus comes. Turning Advent into a month long Christmas celebration is like celebrating Palm Sunday with no thought of the cross Jesus knows awaits him there.
I have no desire to "Bah, humbug" our culture's celebration of Christmas. I love trees, presents, Santa, and the whole bit. But we in the Church should surely realize that good cheer, nostalgia, and a brief upswing in charity won't begin to deal with the brokenness of our world. Only God can do that. At Christmas, we celebrate the fact that in Christ, God has acted. And we draw comfort and hope from the promise that God will bring peace on earth in God's time. But for now, let us spend some of Advent contemplating the ways that we are a part of a broken world that needs saving.
I've been taking some time off this week to spend with family. That's something to be thankful for. Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday. Amidst all the food and football, I'll try to do a bit of reflecting on how much I've been blessed.
Christ the King sermon from John 18:33-37: Many people think faith and politics don't mix, but "king" is a political title, and Christ's rule extends to every facet of life.
No Stumbling Allowed -- So Jesus seems to say in today's gospel verses. If you cause little ones to stumble, (the term likely refers to novice Christians) woe to you. And watch out for things that cause you to stumble. Jesus goes so far as to suggest getting rid of anything that might cause stumbling, even a hand or an eye or a foot.
Now Jesus lived in a culture where hyperbole was a regular feature of communication. And so I doubt he actually envisioned many one-armed, one-eyed Christians. But Jesus knew full well that our desire to follow him is always being compromised. All sorts of things trip us up. Sometimes others cause us to stumble, but usually we do it to ourselves.
We hear the culture telling us all those consumer items we need to be happy, and we spend ourselves into debt acquiring them, with little left to give to God or to help those in need. We work long hours and live hectic lives, but we have little time for God--for prayer or reading Scripture, for worship or serving others. Jesus calls us to a single minded faith that puts God above all else. But we prefer a little spiritual window dressing in our lives.
Even though I am a pastor, faith is often far from the center or my life. There is much in my church job that may seem to be about faith, but is actually a stumbling block, religious busyness that keeps me from actually following Jesus. And Jesus says, "Tear it out and throw it away."
I think that one thing Jesus expects us to do from time to time is take stock of our faith walk and see where we've stumbled, where we've gotten off the path. What are those things that have tripped us up, led us astray? And how do we get rid of them?
Today's reading from Revelation comes near the end of that book. John's final vision is of the new Jerusalem, of God's new heaven and earth. For reasons I don't really understand, people sometimes go to these verses for a description of heaven; streets paved in gold, gates of pearl, and so on. But this is not heaven, and the gold is "transparent as glass," a rather bizarre image. It seems that John is simply trying to say that when the kingdom fully comes, it will be grander than anything we can imagine.
John clearly doesn't expect to be taken with a wooden literalism, but he does expect to be taken seriously. He seeks to encourage and inspire first century Christians who face possible persecution and certain temptation to accommodate to Rome's way of doing things. And although he writes to small groups of believers, the image of the new Jerusalem is incredibly large, a city 1500 miles square, bigger than anyone can actually envision.
Two things strike me about this. First, the immense size speaks of lots and lots of people. God's new day will apparently not be restricted to a few, but will be the home of countless throngs. Second, the image of a city is an image of community. The consummation of history is not about each of us happily communing with God/Jesus. Rather it is about us with God while in intimate contact with others.
Many have noted the contrast this final picture from Revelation makes with the opening picture of humanity in the Bible. It starts in a garden, but it concludes in a city. There is no return to Eden, but rather a redemption of human society. As I said, it's an image or vision and not to be taken too literally. But considering how many of us have fled the city for the suburbs, it is an interesting picture of God's end.
Praise the LORD! Praise the LORD, O my soul! I will praise the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long.
I don't remember exactly where I saw it. It may have been on a bulletin at a church where I attended a meeting, or it may have been on some congregation's website. But if I can't remember where I saw it, I vividly recall seeing those words and reading them. It simply stated, "Worship is the most important thing that we do."
I grew up in the Presbyterian Church at the time when study of the Catechism was disappearing. I never learned to recite it the way some previous generations did, but I did receive my own little pink copy of "The Shorter Catechism." And the very first question and answer read, "Q. What is the chief end of man?" (This was written in the 1600s when no one had thought about gender inclusive language.) "A. Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever."
Obviously glorifying God can and should include much more than Sunday worship. But the very notion that we are best suited to a life lived to glorify God runs counter to much we learn in our culture. We measure most things by whether or not they make us happy, fulfilled, or feel better. And God is no exception. How could the most important thing we do be worshiping God or glorifying God?
Most of us have fallen in love at some point. When we do, nothing is so wonderful as to make that other person happy, to do something for that person. Life is animated by and lived toward that person. Maybe I need to fall back in love with God.
Today's gospel reading is Matthew's account of the Transfiguration, where Peter, James, and John see Jesus shining like the sun as he talks with Moses and Elijah. Upon seeing this, Peter suggests building a shrine of some sort. "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." Peter's suggestion is forgotten when the voice of God speaks, and in Mark's version of this event we learn that Peter makes his suggestion because he's terrified and doesn't know what to say.
I don't want to be too hard on Peter, but he seems to be like a lot of us religious folks, wanting to somehow capture and institutionalize this remarkable experience. Build a shrine. That way they can come back later and commemorate the event as a religious holiday. But when God cuts Peter off, the only command spoken is "Listen to him."
We're fast moving into the Christmas shopping season, and I've already seen a poll on Facebook where people can vote for or against the idea of having a "holiday tree" in the White House as opposed to a Christmas tree. And there will be campaigns directed at retailers demanding that they "put Christ back in Christmas" if their banners announce "Happy Holidays." People, presumably for genuine religious reasons, will get all worked up about this slight against Jesus, will demand that Christmas be an appropriate shrine.
Sometimes I wish that God would show up, terrify us all out of our decorating and singing Christmas carols, and a divine voice boom, "Listen to him!" And I'm pretty sure that what Jesus says won't have much to do with celebrating Christmas, but will have everything to do with caring for the poor, loving enemies, turning the other cheek, and all that other stuff we prefer to ignore.
In today's gospel verses, Jesus is in the Temple on the week of his arrest, and he tells the religious authorities another parable. This parable of the wicked tenants again emphasizes the need for the faithful to "bear fruit," to live as servants who do God's work. Jesus skillfully gets the religious authorities to condemn the wicked tenants of a vineyard who did not do their master's bidding before they realize that the parable is about them. But when Jesus says, "Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom," they get it.
