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.
"I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." So says Jesus in today's verses from the gospel of John. No doubt the familiarity with these words has numbed many Christians to the oddness of this metaphor. What does this mean? What in our personal lives of faith and spirituality is described by never being hungry and never being thirsty?
Certainly my own spiritual life can get pretty dry at times, and I can feel empty. How do such experiences fit into what Jesus says?
I don't have any neat answers to such questions. And sometimes I think that the trite formulas spouted by some Christians are more of an impediment to deep faith than they are a help. Faith needs to wrestle with doubt, with feelings of God's absence, with questions of "Why?" if it is going to grow and mature.
So I won't offer a one size fits all interpretation of today's words on hunger and thirst, but I will speak of my own experience. Often times my own spiritual dryness is connected to barriers I set up between me and Jesus. Sometimes these barriers have nice, religious clothing such as my work as a pastor. Serving a religious institution is not always the same thing as following Jesus, and sometimes I need to make a concerted effort to draw close to Jesus once more.
What are the things in your life that get in the way? In my case, they are rarely things which seem patently evil or opposed to God. The best barriers, like the best idols, usually appeal to our religious and spiritual hungers.
1 Corinthians 13 is most often heard at weddings, but it is not an ode to love, certainly not romantic love. Paul is lecturing wayward children, admonishing them for engaging in petty divisions. The behavior of the Corinthians is not unlike that of siblings engaged in all out rivalry. And the Corinthians could surely see themselves in all those things "love is not."
A member of this congregation was browsing through the church library today, looking for something good to read. I happened by and she asked for suggestions. I had to admit that I don't know the contents of our library very well, but like a lot of church libraries, you have to wade through a good bit of junk to find the good stuff.
I helped her find something but agreed that it might be helpful to post a list of "suggested readings." I'm going to do just that, but first I'd like your thoughts. What are some good books that every person of faith should read?
In today's reading from John, Jesus continues to speak to the religious authorities. Jesus notes that they "search the scriptures." The problem is not that they don't know their Bible. They know it exceedingly well, and in their minds, Jesus can't be doing the work of God because he violates Sabbath, because he claims authority no human can claim. Jesus says that he will not condemn them when they stand before God, rather, "your accuser is Moses, on whom you have set your hope." (Jesus uses "Moses" is a metaphor for the Law as he was thought to have been the author of the first 5 books of the Bible.)
What a curious thing. Jesus says that those who know their scripture forward and backward, who seek diligently to live according to what it says, will be condemned by the very Law they revere.
I've not met many serious Christians who don't in some way seek to follow the Bible. We Presbyterians say it is "the unique and authoritative witness to Jesus Christ..." and "the rule of faith and life." Yet even among Presbyterians, we come to wildly different conclusions about what Scripture says. Is it possible of us to be ones who "search the scriptures" and yet then find ourselves condemned by those same scriptures?
Surely Jesus give us a huge warning about any arrogance or certainty regarding our particular interpretations. But still we must read and interpret Scripture if we are to be people of faith. And in this task I think we would be well served by doing the best we can to let Jesus be the lens by which we read the Bible. After all, to be Christian is to claim Jesus as the truest revelation of God and God's will for us. Christians do not worship and serve the Bible. We worship and serve God whom we have encountered in Jesus. Our desire is not to follow the Bible, but to follow Jesus. For me, the Bible is the unique, authoritative, and inspired guide to doing just that, but it is still only a guide. And if I use it to justify something that Jesus would not condone, then surely the Scripture condemns me in the very same way Jesus says it condemns those religious authorities in our reading today.
In today's gospel reading Jesus addresses his critics who are upset at his healing on the Sabbath, and who are even more incensed that Jesus has called God "My Father." This marks the opening conflict between Jesus and the religious authorities, laying out themes that will repeat throughout John's gospel.
Jesus response seems odd to me in a way. He says he's only doing what God shows him to do, that he can do nothing on his own. It's not really developed here, by I hear echos of similar statements in John where the amazing works of Jesus are seen as self evident. How could he be doing some of what he does if he's not empowered by God in some way.
To me, this raises an interesting question about who is and isn't doing God's work. Very often, we use doctrinal litmus tests to weigh whether or not someone is sufficiently Christian. In my own denomination, we continue to struggle and fight over the issue of whether or not to ordain gays and lesbians. Within these arguments, I've heard it said that it doesn't matter how much evidence there is that God is doing great things through a particular person. If that person is in a gay relationship, the church cannot tolerate that.
I realize that issues of biblical interpretation can be complex and difficult, and that people of deep faith can come to very different conclusions, but at times it seems that we are more interested in our positions and the labels that go with them than we are in the work of God.
And so in my denomination there are many conservative churches who won't support the mission budget of the denomination because that denomination is "too liberal." And many liberals won't support the aid work of agencies they deem "too conservative." And very often, these decisions are not based in any way on the mission work or aid in question. They are only about philosophical or theological labels and divides.
I don't have any easy answers to this situation, but it gives me some pause about the way I sometimes label and judge others.
In today's gospel reading, Jesus heals a man who has been an invalid for 38 years. Surely this is something to celebrate, but Jesus has healed him on the Sabbath, and some of the religious authorities are fit to be tied. Run ins over the Sabbath are featured in all the gospels, so clearly Jesus has something of a reputation for being a religious rule-breaker.
But while it is easy to smugly laugh at the wooden, rigid adherence to rules by Jesus' opponents, rules are essential for any sort of society. And Jesus never speaks against keeping the Sabbath, on having a day focused on God and rest. Jesus' conflict is not with keeping Sabbath, it is with a faith that worries more about Sabbath than about honoring God, that makes an idol out of Sabbath keeping.
Sabbath keeping was a central part of Jewish identity in Jesus' day. It allowed them to maintain an identity distinct from the Roman, pagan world around them. For the devout, it was central to what it meant to be God's people.
Being over zealous about Sabbath keeping is not much of a problem for American Christians, but we have others things that help us stake out our identity as people of faith. For some, going to church on Sunday is the end all and be all of faith. For others, having a "personal relationship with Jesus" is essential, the thing without which their identity is impossible. For still others, if someone has not been "born again," he is deemed not to be a genuine Christian. The more serious people are about their faith the more likely they are to have some essential element of Christian identity that is non-negotiable. But such elements can easily turn into our own idols.
I think that most American Christians would do well to embrace a few more rules and religious disciplines. Our unwillingness to do so often lets us fashion our own personal religion constructed to fit our preferences and tastes, with little there to shape us into the sort of people God wants us to be. Yet religious disciplines and rules must always serve God. No rule, no spiritual practice, no religious experience can become the things we love and serve, for when it does, it then stands between us and God.
I've always been struck by how many of the Psalms cry out in pain. These "lament" psalms make up the largest single type. And Jesus' cry from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" quotes the opening verse of Psalm 22. Today's Psalm 57 also cries out to God, seeking refuge. "I lie down among lions that greedily devour human prey; their teeth are spears and arrows, their tongues sharp swords."
Besides being a source of great comfort to faithful people who struggle and suffer, the existence of so many lament psalms also says something about the nature of faithful life. For one thing, being a person of faith does not insulate you from the pain and suffering of this world. The notion that people who suffer somehow deserve it is common, but given how common suffering by good people is in the Psalms, a biblical faith would seem to say otherwise.
Additionally, these psalms point to God's special concern for the suffering. Almost all the lament psalms cling to the hope that God will save those who suffer. And when Jesus quotes Psalm 22 on the cross, he clearly knows that the psalm ends with the promise of deliverance, and the hope that all the faithful will praise God's saving acts.
There is much suffering in the world that is hard to understand. Often there is no good answer to the question, "Why?" But faith clings to the promise that suffering does not mean God has abandoned those in pain. Faith clings to hope that only faith can see, trusting that God will indeed bring forth life from the worst tragedy, even from death.
I'm not preaching today, but I still found myself drawn to the reading from Luke. Jesus is in his hometown of Nazareth shortly after beginning his ministry. He goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath and reads from the scroll of Isaiah where it says, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."
When he has finished reading he says, "Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." In Luke, this is Jesus' first public teaching. Jesus seems to see himself inaugurating a new day like that promised by the prophet. And most everything about this new day seems to be a blessing for people who are struggling. The poor, captive, blind, and oppressed are singled out, and there is the promise of "the year of God's favor."
This year is surely the Jubilee year found in the Old Testament, where everything and everybody participate in a year long Sabbath. Key components of this Jubilee were the canceling of all debts and the return of all property to its original owners. All of this was about restoring community, helping those who fallen to once again fully participate in the common life of the nation.
Right now, there are some calling for the canceling of debts in Haiti. And while many people are sympathetic to the plight of Haiti, a lot people who have sent contributions to Haitian relief draw the line at things such as canceling debt.
There are some really troublesome attributes to the Kingdom of God. How are we going to teach personal responsibility if we call off debt? How are we going to encourage the sort of risk taking that builds companies and creates jobs if we have a Jubilee every so many years that starts everything over again? Jesus' vision of the Kingdom looks like a threat to much that we take for granted in our world.
And maybe that is precisely the point. The Kingdom is a threat, a threat to all forms of status quo, to all systems that diminish our true humanity. It is a threat to the view that says, "I am totally unimportant and of no worth," instead insisting that all are gifted and called play their part. And it is a threat to the view that says, "Some people don't really matter. They are just workers or statistics or consumers or commodities." Instead the Kingdom features the last entering first.
On a fundamental level, Jesus' notion of the Kingdom calls us to examine what motivates us at our very heart. When we think about whether debt relief for Haiti is a good idea or not, do we decide based on what is best for Haiti and others? Do we make our decisions out of a deep love for those who are suffering, or are we motivated by something else.
I am convinced that people of faith can sincerely come to very different conclusions about the best courses of action in rebuilding Haiti, or ending homelessness in our own community, or dealing with the healthcare crisis. But I suspect that people on all sides have some vested interest in a status quo that is threatened by the Kingdom Jesus brings.
I've always enjoyed the way John's gospel has Jesus play with words. He will say a word that has one meaning, an obvious, literal one and a figurative one. The person Jesus speaks to will always hear the obvious, literal meaning, and this misunderstanding will provide an avenue for Jesus to speak further. It happens when Nicodemus gets confused about being "born again." There Jesus uses a word that can mean either "born again" or "born from above." English translations have to go with one or the other option, and so we miss the word play.
Today Jesus speaks to a Samaritan woman at a well about "living water." It is possible for us to miss the word play here as well. "Living water" was a colorful way to speak of running water, a flowing stream. Wells, obviously, don't produce living water. And the Samaritan woman's confusion over where Jesus is going to get this refreshing water is understandable. But it is because of this confusion that she raises the question of whether Jesus is greater than Jacob. And her confusion also provides the opportunity for Jesus to speak of the living water he gives that quenches a much deeper thirst.
In John's gospel, understanding Jesus literally is a sure fire way to be left in the dark, and Jesus' opponents are never able to comprehend the deeper level on which he speaks. We modern folks tend to be literalists by nature. We think of myths as untrue and aren't all that good at metaphor or imagery. For many of us, truth means fact. But not in John. In John truth is, "I am the bread of life... I am the vine... I am the light of the world... I am the gate." These phrases are familiar to many of us. But obviously they are not literally true.
I wonder what other truths in the Bible I miss because I don't look beyond the literal.
A strong aftershock measure 6.1 on the Richter scale hit Haiti this morning, adding to the misery there. If you are still looking for a way to help, Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA) has already be sending in funds to mission partners on the ground in Haiti. Learn more about PDA's response and donate online at http://www.pcusa.org/pda/
Exploring in my grandmother's attic, I once came across some school work done by my father in the late 1940s. The lesson was from a Bible class (they used to have those in public school), and it covered the Noah story in Genesis. I was startled when I saw what the lesson taught, even though I was born in the still segregated South. The lesson explained that Ham, one of Noah's three sons, was the forerunner of dark skinned people who were forever to be subservient to whites because of the curse found in today's lectionary story.
Considering that there is no mention of race or color, it seems quite a stretch to use this story to justify the treatment of African Americans. And I suppose that should stand as a stark warning about how easy it is for those in power to use the Bible to justify the status quo.
It seems to me that the Noah stories come in for a lot of misuse and misunderstanding. Because of the ark and the animals, people think of them as children's stories. But in truth the Noah stories wrestle with a huge theological question. How will God deal with a Creation that has gone horribly awry. While on the surface the answer might seem to be, "Clean house and start over again," that is not the case. The story is quite clear that this does not happen. The "inclination of the human heart" is not improved at all by the flood, and today's story shows a drunk Noah and a dysfunctional family where relatives end up slaves to relatives. It isn't exactly clear what Ham does that is so bad in the story. (There is some heavy duty sexual innuendo here.) But if Noah and his family were the new start that was supposed to put humanity back on the right track, things have gone to pot almost instantly.
Clearly things are no better off after Noah's flood than they were before. The only thing that really happens in these stories happens with God. God makes a covenant with Creation and humanity. Despite humanity's horrible failings God will not abandon us. The only thing fixed by the Noah event is the elimination of the destroy-and-start-over option. God commits to us, with all our brokenness and sinfulness. Sometimes, when I look at all the horrors that we humans can do -- even the terrible tragedy in Haiti was largely the result of government turning a blind eye to shoddy construction -- it seems like we humans are a hopeless case. But even when we give up on ourselves, God has decided to stick with us. And I guess that is pretty good news.
"I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." So says Jesus in today's verses from the gospel of John. No doubt the familiarity with these words has numbed many Christians to the oddness of this metaphor. What does this mean? What in our personal lives of faith and spirituality is described by never being hungry and never being thirsty?
