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.
Monday, January 22, 2018
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Sermon: Insane Discipleship
Mark 1:14-20
Insane Discipleship
James Sledge January
21, 2018
At
our session meetings (Session is the discerning and governing council for a
Presbyterian church.) we always spend some time discussing a passage of
scripture. At the January meeting, we discussed our gospel passage for today.
For
this particular discussion, I had primed the pump a bit by including some discussion
questions in the agenda. “What differences do you see between the two sets of
brothers? Do those differences make it harder for some to follow Jesus? What
gets in the way of our following Jesus? In the way of the church following
Jesus?”
We
started with the first question, quickly noting what many of you may have also
noticed. The two sets of brothers appear to come from different circumstances.
Simon and Andrew have only casting nets to toss from the shore, meaning they
are likely subsistence fishermen. James and John, on the other hand, are part
of a family business that has employees. The gospel writer emphasizes this for
us by saying precisely what these two sets of brothers leave behind when the go
with Jesus. Simon and Andrew leave only their nets, but James and John leave
their father in the boat with the employees.
We
discussed the impact that having a little or having a lot has on being able to
follow Jesus. There were a variety of thoughts on this, but most of us agreed
that it gets harder to let go of what you have the more that you have. Jesus
says as much in his teachings, pointing out what a hindrance wealth is to
becoming part of God’s new day.
But
then one of our elders observed that for both sets of brothers, what happens is
“insane.” They drop everything and go off with this Jesus fellow who just
happens by and calls to them. As far as we know from the story Mark’s gospel
tells, they’ve never met Jesus, perhaps never even heard of him.
That is insane, and the relative wealth
of the different brothers seems not to make any difference at all. We might
have expected James and John to struggle a bit more. They were leaving a lot
more behind. The gospel writer has made a point of describing the different
circumstances of these sibling pairs, but then it plays no role in what
happens. Both pairs drop everything and go with Jesus. What on earth accounts
for such insane behavior?
Monday, January 15, 2018
Undomesticating Jesus and MLK
Yesterday
I preached a sermon from 1 Samuel 3 that wondered how prophets such as Martin
Luther King, Jr. are able to hear God speak, able to catch divine visions or
dreams. The sermon was written well before President Trump made his remarks
about immigrants from sh**hole countries.
Those
remarks made me contemplate a different sermon using the gospel reading for the
day instead, John 1:43-51, which includes a comment about how Jesus’ hometown
was considered a sh**hole country. “Can anything good come out of
Nazareth?” But in the end I decided I didn’t want to do an entire sermon on
Donald Trump’s racism.
Still,
the confluence of Trump’s comments, the MLK holiday, and the president’s own
proclamation honoring Dr. King on Friday, still has me feeling that I need to
say something more than I did in worship yesterday. (I did note the gospel
reading and its implications prior to the 1Samuel sermon.) I cannot imagine the
prophet Martin not speaking out when immigrants of color are disparaged while
ones from Scandinavia are lauded.
The
strange contrast of President Trump honoring Dr. King on the day after the president’s
racist remarks makes me worry about King’s legacy. That Trump could honor him
while consistently acting in ways that would have appalled King says something
about how King has become a revered image with much of his prophetic speech
conveniently removed. Increasingly Dr. King is known by a few pithy and
uplifting quotes. His scathing words against moderate whites, his resistance to
the Vietnam War, and his outcry against police brutality are rarely mentioned.
King has been sanitized and domesticated.
There
are too many photographs and too much TV footage for King to be stripped of his
blackness. Were that not the case, he could perhaps be made blonde and
blue-eyed, totally domesticated in the manner of Jesus. Have you ever seen a
depiction of Jesus as African and been jarred by it? But a fair-skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jesus seems fine?
There
is no better way to rob prophets and Messiahs of their power than by
domesticating and honoring them. I fear that is happening to Dr. King, and I
know it has already happened to Jesus. That people can profess to be Christian,
followers of Jesus, and still loudly support Donald Trump, who so often stands
diametrically opposed to Jesus’ teachings, reveals a Christianity that honors
and celebrates Jesus without taking seriously anything he says.
Jesus
reserved his most scathing remarks for wealth and for smug, respectable
religious leaders. He came from a sh**hole part of Palestine and was happy
to spend much of his time hanging out with those whom respectable people thought
were sh**holes. He had special concern for the poor and oppressed, insisted
that his followers not defend themselves when struck, demanded love of enemies
as well as friends, and required disciples to give up their own good and
willingly embrace suffering for the sake of his ministry. That Christians so
seldom look like this is an indictment of the Church and of the religion that
claims the name Christ.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Last
year I saw the Oscar nominated, 2016 documentary I Am Not Your Negro, based on an unfinished manuscript by James
Baldwin. (If you’ve not seen it, it will be airing soon on PBS.) Baldwin has
never become enough of an icon that there’s been much need to domesticate him.
He remains a figure of his own telling, his own words, unlike King, who is
being transformed into a comfortable, benign Negro who is no threat to the white,
American status quo.
The
real Dr. King terrified much of white America, and many of his words would
terrify people still if they were spoken aloud and celebrated. So too Jesus terrified
the powers that be in his day. Jesus was no sweet, saccharine Savior interested
only in granting tickets to heaven for those who “believed in him.” He
proclaimed the coming reign of God, a new day when the poor and oppressed would
be lifted up and the rich and powerful pulled down. And he warned those who
would follow him about honoring him without doing as he said. “Not everyone who
says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one
who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)
If
Christians are to wear that name in any meaningful way, and if America is to
honor Martin Luther King in any real sense, we will have to un-domesticate them.
We must listen to them speak. We must let them startle and challenge us. We
must let them change us, or they have become little more than empty symbols.
They are neither prophet nor Messiah. They are idols, pocket talismans we
expect to bless us on demand.
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Sermon: Listening for God
1 Samuel 3:1-10
Listening for God
James Sledge January
14, 2018
The word of the Lord
was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. When I was young, and even sometimes as
an adult, I’ve thought that it would be great to have lived in biblical times.
How much easier faith would I’d been
there to see God act, to hear Jesus teach, to encounter a prophet filled with
God’s Spirit and speaking directly to me.
But
the opening of our Scripture reading this morning doesn’t sound much like that. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not
widespread. Sure, people knew
stories of God acting in the past, but there wasn’t much current activity. I
wonder if people at the time of our reading wished they had lived in an earlier
time, when God’s activity had been more vivid and obvious. But for them, God’s
word was rare. No dreams or visions to share. No prophets speaking God’s word
directly to them.
The
opening of our scripture doesn’t sound so different from today, although many
of us were alive when one of God’s prophets did speak. I was just a child, but
I remember. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a prophet if there ever was one. God
called him and gave him a vision to share. If Dr. King had lived in biblical
times, I suspect his famous speech at the Lincoln Memorial would have been written
down with an introduction something like, “The vision that the prophet Martin
was given about the things to come.”
Dr.
King used the term dream instead of vision Perhaps he thought that would work better
with both religious folks and more secular types who don’t think much of
prophetic visions.
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Sermon: The View from Our Bubbles
Isaiah 9:2-7
The View from Our Bubbles
James Sledge December
24, 2017
Recently
I was talking with someone about how we American increasingly live in little
bubbles of our own making. Our Facebook and Twitter accounts are often echo
chambers of like-minded people passing around articles and statements that
nearly everyone there already agrees with. Because of the high cost of housing
around here, many of our children attend schools filled with people just like
them.
Churches
often reflect these bubbles. Martin Luther King once said that 11:00 on Sunday mornings
was the most segregated place in America. It’s changed, but only a little. And
in the identity driven politics of our time, churches are increasingly
segregated by where members fall on the political spectrum. One more echo
chamber. We also tend to be financially homogeneous. Even churches that do a lot
of social justice work and advocacy on behalf of the poor often have no poor
members. They just don’t fit into the church’s bubble.
Many
of us spend much of our time in an affluent, privileged bubble. We have contact
with people who aren’t part of our bubble, but it tends to be sporadic and at
the edges of our lives. We can volunteer at our Welcome Table meal program and
spend part of our afternoon with people from a different world, but we can step
back into our bubble whenever we wish.
Our
Welcome Table guests aren’t part of our world, and can be easy to imagine that
the bubble they occupy is at least partly of their own choosing. So too, we
like to think we earned a spot in our comfortable, well-off bubble, our bubble
that insulates us and makes it easier to ignore those outside it.
Inside
our cozy, comfortable bubble, I wonder if we can really hear the Christmas
story, hear it in the way the author intended. Neither the Christmas story nor our
Isaiah prophecy are written for comfortable, secure people. Only shepherds
attend Jesus’ birth. If these shepherds lived in our time, they would occupy a
very different bubble from ours. Some of us would likely joke about their being
from West Virginia or living in a double-wide. They would probably like
hunting, love their guns, and consider us snobby elites.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Sermon: Savoring Old Stories
Isaiah 35:1-10
Savoring Old Stories
James Sledge December
17, 2017
I
don’t know about you, but I sometimes find it hard to watch the news these
days. O I’ll watch the network news if I’m home in the evening. And I’m one of
those dinosaurs who still goes out to pick my newspaper from the driveway every
morning. I look at every page most mornings, but I don’t always read all the
articles. It’s too depressing.
I
can only read so much about the latest shooting, or the terrible wildfires and
devastating hurricanes and how both will likely become more common with climate change. I can only
stomach so much information about racial hatred going mainstream, or about
legislation that benefits the wealthy at the expense of the poor.
I
see many online who respond to all this with a visceral anger. I can still feel
anger, but I’m probably more inclined toward despair.
I’m
reasonably certain that others are struggling with today’s news as well. Over
the past year, I’ve frequently seen a cartoon from The New Yorker’s David Sipress posted on social media. A
well-dressed man and woman walk on a city sidewalk, and the woman says, “My
desire to be well informed is currently at odds with my desire to stay sane.”
I
assumed that the cartoon was drawn for our current situation, but turns out
it’s from the 1990s and Sipress can’t even remember what events inspired it. He
did republish it in a New Yorker article
earlier this year about how he’s trying to stay sane these days. A prominent
strategy is rationing his intake of news.
Of
course other people have more personal reasons for anger or despair, from those
facing terrible disease or tragedy to those who constantly must navigate the
institutional racism of our culture to those who’ve been sexually harassed or
assaulted but felt they could do nothing for fear of losing their jobs,
healthcare coverage, and respectability.
A
time with the news being troubling and depressing, when people feel anger or
despair, is the setting for the prophecy we just heard. So too, Mary’s
Magnifcat is spoken into a time when Israel was under the thumb of Rome, when
being poor or disabled or widowed or orphaned was often a death sentence, when
hope for the future seemed grim.
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Sermon: Countercultural Preparation
Isaiah 11:1-9
Countercultural Preparation
James Sledge December
10, 2017
How
many Christmas shows have you seen so far? Many that I grew up with have
already made their annual appearance. Rudolph
the Red-Nosed Reindeer, How the
Grinch Stole Christmas, and A Charlie
Brown Christmas have all run at least once. It’s amazing their staying
power. Rudolph first ran in 1964, and Charlie Brown the following year.
I’ve
seen these programs so many times that I can easily recall scenes from them. In
A Charlie Brown Christmas, Linus
explains the true meaning of Christmas to Charlie Brown, reciting from the
gospel of Luke. “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all
the world should be taxed.”
The
story Linus tells is well known to many of us. Like the Christmas shows
themselves, we encounter it every season. It is warm and familiar. For me it
evokes memories of long ago Christmas pageants and my father reading it before
bed on Christmas Eve.
The
story is nostalgic for many of us, and so we may overlook how odd and
subversive it is. In the midst of imperial Roman might, in the shadow of a
Caesar called “Lord, Savior, Son of God,” a rival king is born, a different
Savior and Son of God. Amidst the pageantry and royal finery of empire, the
birth of a competing Lord is witnessed only by shepherds.
The
contrast is absurd. Caesar, with all the might a of superpower at his disposal versus
a baby, his parents, and a small entourage of dirty shepherds. What chance does
this new king have? Why tell such a ridiculous story? Why would anyone choose
to align themselves with Jesus rather than the emperor and all his vast wealth
and power?
Our
reading from Isaiah this morning has its own fanciful, absurd scenario. Wolf
and lamb, leopard and kid, lion and calf, and children playing with poisonous
snakes. It’s lovely and all. It makes for a great painting, but if anything, it
is even more ridiculous than Jesus as an alternative to Caesar. It can’t really
happen. It’s against the natural order of things.
But
there is another scene in our reading that is much less absurd. It speaks of
one from the house of David who will have God’s spirit, the spirit of wisdom and
understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the
fear of the Lord. This one will truly discern the will of God and so
bring justice for the poor and weak. Yes, the scene lapses into a bit of
hyperbole at the end, but the core of it is not at all fanciful, not at all
ridiculous. Indeed we claim these very things for those we baptize.
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)