Sermon - Radical Hospitality: Reaching Out-Welcoming In

Luke 10:25-37

Radical Hospitality: Reaching Out-Welcoming In

James Sledge                                                                                          May 5, 2013

Many of you know I had a previous career as a pilot. In the infancy of that career, I found a weekend job flying skydivers at a parachute center, prompting me to take up the sport myself. Contrary to some stereotypes, skydivers are not oblivious to risk. Most are quite cautious about equipment and who to let on a jump with them. A newcomer would have to prove his or her salt by occupying the simplest and easiest position in the smallest of free-fall formations before being allowed on larger or more difficult ones.

Free-fall formations can sometimes be hard to keep stable, and you don’t want people who don’t know what they’re doing running into them or knocking them askew. Because of this concern for stability, there’s a protocol for how to enter a formation when you arrive at it. Imagine a group of children holding hands in a circle on the playground, and a new child wants to join. In the skydiving version, the new person has to grab the people’s wrists where she wants to join the circle and try to pull their hands apart. Only when the other jumpers feel this tug, will they release their grips and allow that person in. We called it “breaking grips.”

This requirement literally to break into the formation protected it and kept it from flying apart if people had let go of their grips prematurely without insuring that the new arrival could be trusted to help hold the thing together. For those on the free-fall, this is a natural form of group self-preservation. And I’ve seen a similar practice in church congregations.

It’s often more prevalent in very small congregations that function almost like families, but it can occur to lesser degrees in large congregations. When a new person arrives, he may get a real sense of being an outsider, looking into a circle where everyone has a strong grip on the person next to them. Very often, it is a bit like a childhood game of Red Rover even to get noticed, much less to become a full-fledged part of the congregation.

Holiness and Imperfection

In Paul's letter to the Roman church he writes, "Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat; for God has welcomed them. Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand."

In his devotion for today, Richard Rohr speaks of imperfection as "a clever place for God to hide holiness, so that only the humble and earnest will find it!" He goes on to say, "It becomes sort of obvious once you say it out loud. In fact, I would say that the demand for the perfect is often the greatest enemy of the good. Perfection is a mathematical or divine concept; goodness is a beautiful human concept. We see this illusionary perfectionism in ideologues and zealots on both the left and the right of church and state. They refuse to get their hands dirty, think compromise or subtlety are dirty words, and end up creating much more 'dirt' for the rest of us, while they remain totally 'clean' and quite comfortable in their cleanliness."

Both Paul and Richard Rohr prompted me to think about the partisan divides that are so much a part of our political as well as religious endeavors these days. In both cases the various sides often think that they have the truth, and good happens when their view of truth prevails. I think most of us tend to consider our version of truth as the best and most right one. Why would we embrace it as our truth if we thought other truths vastly superior. 

I suppose it is nigh impossible to live anything approaching a principled life without some truth that is "non-negotiable." Yet these had best be well chosen, and even then, they may turn out to be wrong. As Paul writes in another letter, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, (mirrors in Paul's day produced a distorted, inexact image) but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known." And so, in the face of this dim, partial hold on truth, love is the one truth we can fully count on.

I have noticed that, for all their faults and failings, families tend not to get caught up in the same sort of partisan divides that seem to dominate both secular and religious politics. There are exceptions, to be sure, and there are plenty of fights and disagreements in families. But the kind of ideological zealotry that often makes political compromise difficult seems much less prevalent in families. Surely this is because we all know one another's imperfections too well for any of us to claim a monopoly on the truth. Even the very best of families are born of a myriad of imperfections and dysfunctions. And if there is anything that points to divine relationship in families, it is most certainly a holiness hidden in imperfection, to borrow from Fr. Rohr.

In healthy families, even when we are upset and angry with one another, there is this sense that we have to love one another. It is unavoidable. We may forget it in particularly heated moments, but without this sense, the family will fracture and disintegrate. I've often argued against using "family" as an image or metaphor for church congregations. I think the image is too limited and unhelpful in many circumstances. But no doubt the practices of the best families have much to teach us about living as children of God.

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A Poem (not mine)

A member here at Falls Church Presbyterian shared a poem with me today. I have to confess that I'm no connoisseur of poetry, but this one really touched me. It's by Marie Howe, from The Kingdom of Ordinary Time, and entitled "Annunciation," as in the Annunciation to Mary.


Even if I don't see it again -- nor ever feel it
I know it is -- and that if once it hailed me
it ever does --

And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction
not as towards a place, but it was a tilting
within myself,

as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn't -- I was blinded like that -- and swam
in what shone at me

only able to endure it by being no one and so
specifically myself I thought I'd die
from being loved like that.

Princes, Presidents, Ideologies and Theologies

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.  Psalm 146:3-4

We don't really have princes here in America, but we have some pretty good stand-ins.  We have presidents, and our current day presidents wield power Israel's princes could not even have dreamed of. But as a general rule, none of our presidents manage to do all that their supporters hope they will, and so the political pendulum tends to swing every so often.

Part of electing a president is trusting or liking a candidate, but part is the political ideology he or she represents. I'm never totally clear on just how this combination comes together, but somehow, we regularly place our trust in presidents and ideologies, hoping that they will guide us to a better place.

In the Hebrew scriptures, or Old Testament, there is something of a conflicted relationship between faith in Yahweh and kings or princes. There are certainly heroic kings such as David who have a special relationship with God, but there is also an awareness that kings are a part of the way of the world. When Israel demands a king in 1 Samuel 8, God says, "They have rejected me from being king over them."

For Christians, Jesus re-imagines the figure of king. He looks little like David or Solomon, not to mention little like our presidents. And we would never elect or put our trust in a candidate who acted very much in the ways of Jesus. We expect our presidents to know all about wielding worldly power, about getting things done. Meek, humble, and lowly are not adjectives we want used for our presidents.

This sort of thinking often filters down into the church. Some of the leadership training offered to pastors mines the practices of successful presidents, CEOs, and other secular leaders to help pastor be better at getting the results they want.

In today's reading from Romans, Paul urges believers "to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect." Paul seems to think that figuring out what God wants of us, what we are called and meant to do, requires a wisdom not found in political ideologies or presidential agendas. It requires a total and complete giving ourselves over to God in which we are transformed and renewed.

Trouble is, we trust ourselves, or our ideologies, or our theologies (our ideas about what God is like) a lot more than we actually trust God or Jesus.

So who do you think we'll elect president in 2016?

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Inspired to Behave Foolishly

Two very different lectionary readings got me thinking today about religious behavior. The first is a passage from Jeremiah. The prophet finds himself imprisoned because he refuses to accommodate the demands of civil religion. He will not say, "God bless America," or in his case, "God bless Israel." Instead he insists that God will give Babylon victory over Israel. Imagine a prominent pastor in 1942 saying that God was on Japan's side, and you get some sense of how many people must have viewed Jeremiah.

The second passage features a sinful woman who crashes a dinner party Jesus attends, then proceeds to kiss his feet, wash them with her tears and hair, and finally anoint them with expensive ointment. The Pharisee hosting the dinner party is appalled, as we no doubt would be if someone did this when we had the pastor over for dinner. Of all people, religious folk should no how to behave with decorum. But of course Jesus praises the woman and rebukes his host.

One of the endless challenges for meaningful Christian faith is the constant pressure for religion to serve convention, current social mores, morality, and the basic social order. And this challenge seems little lessened by the fact that scripture regularly shows us God's representatives refusing to bend to such expectations. Jeremiah and Jesus refuse to play this game, and it is costly for both of them.

I recently saw the movie 42, the story of Jackie Robinson's entry into Major League Baseball. There is a scene where the Brooklyn Dodgers have traveled to play Cincinnati, a city on the Kentucky border and a hotbed of virulent racism. Pee Wee Reese, a Dodgers player from Kentucky, has received nasty letters from folks back home about the upcoming games. When he goes to Branch Rickey's office to complain about this situation, Rickey shows him file after file of letters threatening Robinson's life and that of his wife and child if he plays.

When the Dodgers take the field in Cincinnati, the abuse is almost unimaginable. The scene is one of unadulterated hate. At which point Pee Wee Reese walks from shortstop over to first base and puts his arm around Jackie Robinson. Then he simply stands there, looking into the crowd and smiling. (The historicity of this event is debated.)

More than 65 years later, it is easy to sentimentalize this scene and to imagine that we would have done the same. But history suggests otherwise. One of Martin Luther King's great frustrations was the number of sympathetic, white Christians who nonetheless urged him to slow down, to take it easy, to wait. King's book, Why We Can't Wait, is written largely to such folks, including white pastors who had written to him, concerned over the Civil Right movement's potential to destabilize society.

It is more than a little disturbing to consider how frequently Christianity, with notable exceptions, has stood on the sidelines while the winds of God's Spirit were blowing, too afraid to buck those religious pressures to support decorum and the current order of things. And I find myself wondering why this is so.

This is simply an off-the-top-of-my-head thought, but I wonder if there isn't some correlation between how real and vivid the presence of God is to how willing people are to act more like Jeremiah or Jesus. I'm thinking here of something akin to the feeling of falling in love. When people fall in love, they sometimes seem to take leave of their senses. They are willing to act in ridiculous and foolish ways under the influence of love. The Bible seems to expect a similar thing when we truly encounter God. It is such an overwhelming experience that we desire to do anything for God, to love God with all that we are and have.

What are your experiences of God that made it possible to do something daring, foolish, or outside your comfort zone? Where are those places where God is real and vivid enough that you get caught up in God's agenda? What spiritual practices do you need to cultivate in order to nurture a deep love of God so that you would do almost anything for God's sake?

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Sermon video: Seeing Visions and Dreaming Dreams

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Audios of sermons and worship available on Falls Church Presbyterian website.

Sermon: Seeing Visions and Dreaming Dreams

Acts 11:1-18 (Revelation 21:1-6)

Seeing Visions and Dreaming Dreams

James Sledge                                                                                       April 28, 2013

Longer ago that I like to admit, I spent a year as a high school history teacher. One day in World History class we covered a unit of European history that included the Protestant Reformation. As we discussed Martin Luther and his church reform attempts that led to a split with the Roman Catholic Church, a young woman in the class raised her hand.

She was a popular student, a cheerleader, and she had a confused, befuddled look on her face. “Mr. Sledge, do you mean that Roman Catholics are Christians, too?” I have no recollection of how I responded to her. All I remember is how stunned I was by her question.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have been. This was Charlotte, NC in the early 1980s, and in much of the South, Catholics and Jews were somewhat rare until the late 20^th century. This young woman was from a rural background, and she likely knew of Catholics only by stereotype. To her they were those strange people who worshiped the pope rather than God. They were, in some fuzzy sort of way, an enemy, and so naturally they weren’t Christian.

Now clearly this student’s understanding of Catholics was rooted in bigotry that seems almost comical in this day and age. But of course us versus them divisions are a part of just about everyone’s life. We may laugh off some as harmless, like those connected to sports teams or colleges, but many are not.

Racial divisions are still a huge problem for our country. And right now, our partisan, political divide seems to be a particular curse. Having contrasting political parties and ideas can be a wonderful thing, bringing different perspectives to difficult issues or problems. But when the other side becomes a “them” whom we demonize, declare an enemy, and dismiss as evil, the beneficial side of such divisions largely disappears.

For the early Christians, the division between Jew and Gentile was the ultimate us versus them. Jews could not even eat with Gentiles, which caused huge problems as Gentiles began to hear about the risen Jesus and wanted to join the movement. It’s hard to appreciate in our day, but those first Christians did not think they had stopped being Jewish. They did not think they had started a new religion. And so when Gentiles wanted to join, they had to become Jewish first, males be circumcised, abide by Jewish dietary restrictions, and so on.

Impractical Advice

If you check out Bibles online or in a bookstore, you are likely to run across something called a Life Application Study Bible. As the name suggests, this study Bible is less about traditional Bible study and more about how to apply the Bible's teaching in everyday life. I saw a plug for this Bible that touted it for providing excellent "practical application."

In a similar manner, pastors are often encouraged to make their sermons "more practical," usually meaning something akin to what the Life Application Study Bible advertizes. How I am to apply this teaching in my daily living?

This certainly seems a noble, sincere desire to live faithfully, but the project is sometimes made difficult by the very impractical advice that Jesus offers. "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you... love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return." Really? This is practical advice?

I suppose there is practicality in that such behavior has a reward. "Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked." Of course just what this reward is remains unspoken. Perhaps it is being declared "children of the Most High," to become like God in being "kind to the ungrateful and the wicked."

If you've ever been involved in a mission or ministry that tries to help people, you've likely encountered some very people who are very grateful for such help. But no doubt you've also encountered those who have no gratitude, who instead are bitter and insulting, demanding to know why the help isn't more.

I'll admit that such times can test my desire to help. If people don't appreciate it, why offer it. But then there is that terribly impractical advice from Jesus. "Do good... expecting nothing in return," not even gratitude. After all, God is "kind to the ungrateful and the wicked." You sure that's a good idea, God? It's certainly not very practical.

We humans like to measure things on practical terms, and on some level, we express most everything along these lines. "Falling in love," may not be immediately thought of in practical terms, but the relationships that emerge from it are usually contractual on some level. I'll stay with you, keep loving you, stay married to you as long as it makes me happy, makes me feel good, provide for me, etc. Even seemingly altruistic things like environmentalism have a practical side. We're preserving the planet for our children. And it's a lot easier to engage people in saving tigers or pandas than it is snail darters. Most of us will never receive any joy or experience any awe from observing the latter.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this train of thought, but faith, at some level, is surely about taking a certain path or living a certain way without be able to see obvious, practical advantages to such actions. I suppose a reward of being called "children of the Most High," of discovering our own godliness, has a kind of practical appeal. But I wonder if it can really be experienced through practical, contractual means. It seems to me that is only discovered or experienced in the act of total surrender to God that doesn't really seek any reward.

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Strange Sort of Blessing

There's little wonder that Matthew's more spiritualized version of the Beatitudes is more beloved than those found in Luke. Not only does Matthew's "Blessed are the poor in spirit" become "Blessed are you who are poor." But Luke also adds a corresponding list of woes or curses. “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation." Not hard to see why no one ever labeled these verses from Luke the "Be Happy Attitudes."

What does it mean to speak of God's blessing or favor on those who are poor and God's curse on those who are rich? And especially for well-off, suburban, American Christians, what does it mean? How are we to reconcile our near obsession with possessions, our desire to acquire more and more, and our portfolios designed to "build wealth" with these words from Jesus? If wealth is such a curse and poverty a blessing, why do we so want to be rich and so fear being poor? And if they are indeed blessed, why do we denigrate the poor so in our society.

I don't have a nice, neat answer to such questions. I find them quite troubling, although I think that argues for spending more time with them rather than dismissing or ignoring them. I say that in part because the God I meet in the Bible quite regularly acts counter to convention, in surprising and baffling ways, and in ways that upend human plans and my expectations. As the prophet Isaiah says, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD."

We would prefer it otherwise. We are forever trying to create God in our image, but God seems intent on someday having us mirror the divine image. Perhaps that is why many of us are so drawn to Jesus and yet find it so difficult actually to follow him. We see in him our truest calling, what it is to be fully human. But we're comfortable where we are, and so we'd rather convert God.

I'm no different. I'm drawn to Jesus, even enamored by him. But I keep hoping he didn't mean a lot of what he said. I guess it's a good thing that God's seems to be infinitely patient and merciful.

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Sermon video: Hearing and Following

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Sermon: Hearing and Following

John 10:22-30; Psalm 23

Hearing and Following

James Sledge                                                                                       April 21, 2013

Harry was expecting a call so he picked up the phone without checking the caller ID and found himself talking with a pollster.  He thought about hanging up but he recognized the polling organization as a legitimate one, so if it didn’t take too long…

“I a few questions on political issues,” the voice said.  “But first, are you a person of faith? And if so, are you Jewish, Christian, Muslim, or some other?” 

Harry was an active church goer, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to announce that to some stranger on the phone.  “If I say Christian do I get lumped in with Pat Robertson and Joel Osteen?” Harry asked, “because I’m not that kind of Christian.  Will you assume I’m a Republican, pro-life and pro-gun because I’m certainly not that kind of Christian.”

The pollster tried to assure Harry that he wouldn’t be lumped in with anyone, but Harry was rather enjoying the inversion, with him asking the pollster questions.  “If I say that I’m a Christian will you assume that I don’t want my kids being taught evolution in school?  If I say I’m a Christian will you think I’m one of those people who are sure we are in the end times, or that Obama is the anti-Christ?”

Harry was starting to get worked up, and the pollster was trying to calm him.  “Sir, I didn’t mean to upset you.  I’m not trying to link you to anyone or any group.”

Harry thought for a moment and said, “I have an idea.  Why don’t I just tell you a little about myself and how I live?  Then you can decide if I’m a Christian.  I’m against the death penalty.  I pray for my enemies.  I went on a mission trip to Haiti. I think the federal budget needs to prioritize the needs of the poor, the sick, and most vulnerable.”

“Sir, sir,” the pollster said, trying to get him to stop.  But Harry continued, and finally, in frustration, the pollster hung up.

Although a devout Christian, Harry knew that people mean a lot of different things by that label.  Jesus is in a similar situation in our gospel reading this morning, except for him the label is “Messiah.”  “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly,” some people ask Jesus.  But Jesus doesn’t give them the straightest answer.  He is almost evasive, and I think that’s because the label Messiah, or Christ, was more problematic than helpful.

A Terrible Week... and a Dream

I've been leading a study of Genesis this winter and spring, and today we were looking at the story of Joseph. It's a complicated story, nothing like the one I remember from childhood Sunday School days where Joseph was a cardboard cut-out hero in a "coat of many colors."

In the actual events found in the Bible, the dream of God creates a great deal of tension, aggravating already difficult relationships between siblings. Joseph's brothers go so far as to attempt to kill him. They end up backing off that plan but still sell him as a slave, seemingly jeopardizing God's dream. But the story will eventually prove otherwise.

I find myself wondering about dreams in a week that has felt more like a nightmare to this point. The events of the week, the bombing at the Boston Marathon, fire and explosions in West, Texas, ricin laced letters mailed to the president and others, and the total inability of Congress to do anything meaningful against the scourge of gun violence in this country, all make a solid case for cynicism and for the foolishness of dreams. Worse, these events make it easy to dismiss those who march for peace, against guns, or for social programs rather than huge military budgets as naive idealists who just don't understand how the world really works.

Trouble is, followers of Jesus are called to be dreamers. We are bearers of a dream Jesus called the Kingdom, a new realm or dominion where wolves and lambs lie down together. Jesus says that the dream has drawn near in him, and when the Church is born at Pentecost by the gift of the Spirit, Peter says this is fulfillment of the prophet Joel's dream, a day when God's Spirit is poured out on all people, "and your sons and your daughters shall prophecy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams." O to dream some dreams.

I've always love the old John Lennon song "Imagine." Some people of faith dislike it because it asks us to imagine no heaven, no hell, no religion. Both those are the easy things to do. They are not the reasons Lennon embraces the label others use to dismiss him, "a dreamer." It is imagining no greed or hunger, all people living together as one, that makes him a true dreamer. And such dreams put him squarely in the company of prophets and a Messiah, people who speak ridiculous dreams and call us to share them with the world.

As a terrible week draws, hopefully, to a quiet close, there is much evidence that speaks of the foolishness of dreams. But if ever we need dreams, it is now. And if the church will not be the bearer of dreams it is called to be, then, no doubt, God will find others to carry the dream forward.

Pour out your Spirit, O God.