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, February 24, 2020
Sunday, February 23, 2020
Semon: Listen to Him!
Matthew 17:1-9
Listen to Him!
James Sledge February
23, 2020
Lately
I’ve been thinking about quitting Facebook. Too much nastiness there, too many
conspiracy theories, too much political manipulation. And maybe Mark Zuckerberg
might address some of the damage Facebook does to our society if enough people
quit using it.
But
then some colleague or notable person that I follow posts something wonderful
that I would never have seen otherwise. That happened the other day when
Frederick Buechner posted something on his page. I may yet ditch Facebook, but
I’m glad I saw Buechner’s post.
For
those who don’t know of him, Buechner is a Presbyterian pastor who’s probably better
known for his novels, essays, and short stories. The other day he posted something
from an old book of his. It’s a bit longer than the typical sermon quote, but I
hope you’ll indulge me.
PREPOSITIONS CAN
BE VERY ELEGANT. A man is "in" architecture or a woman is
"in" teaching, we say, meaning that is what they do weekdays and how
they make enough money to enjoy themselves the rest of the time. But if we say
they are "into" these things, that is another story. "Into"
means something more like total immersion. They live and breathe what they do.
They take it home with them nights. They can't get enough of it. To be
"into" books means that just the sight of a signed first edition of
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland sets your heart pounding. To be "in"
books means selling them at B. Dalton's.
Along similar
lines, New Testament Greek speaks of believing "into" rather than
believing "in." In English we can perhaps convey the distinction best
by using either "in" or no preposition at all.
Believing in God
is an intellectual position. It need have no more effect on your life than
believing in Freud's method of interpreting dreams or the theory that Sir
Francis Bacon wrote Romeo and Juliet.
Believing God is
something else again. It is less a position than a journey, less a realization
than a relationship. It doesn't leave you cold like believing the world is
round. It stirs your blood like believing the world is a miracle. It affects
who you are and what you do with your life like believing your house is on fire
or somebody loves you.
We believe in
God when for one reason or another we choose to do so. We believe God when
somehow we run into God in a way that by and large leaves us no choice to do otherwise.
When Jesus says
that whoever believes "into" him shall never die, he does not mean
that to be willing to sign your name to the Nicene Creed guarantees eternal
life. Eternal life is not the result of believing in. It is the experience of believing.[1]
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Sermon: Catching the Dream
Matthew 5:21-37
Catching the Dream
James Sledge February
16, 2020
As
baseball fans are probably aware, Derek Jeter, longtime short stop for the New
York Yankees, was voted into the Hall of Fame last month. In other recent news,
Major League Baseball announced the results of its investigation into sign stealing
by the Houston Astros, including some of the harshest penalties ever handed
down by MLB. Many thought the penalties too lenient, and the scandal has raised
larger questions about cheating in baseball.
These
two, seemingly unrelated bits of baseball news reminded me of an episode from
Derek Jeter’s playing days. He was batting and squared around to bunt, but the
pitch was way inside. Jeter turned away as the pitch struck the bat right on
the knob at its base. He threw the bat away and began shaking his hand in pain.
The trainer ran out to examine his “injury,” and the umpire awarded him first
base. Jeter trotted down the base path still shaking off the pain.
But
replays showed that the baseball never came anywhere near Jeter’s hand. Jeter himself
later admitted as much. A debate ensued as to whether Jeter had pulled off a
savvy play or if he was a cheater, a debate that landed Jeter’s at-bat on the
evening news.
In
some ways, this debate depends on your view of rules. What are they for? Are
they simply meant to define limits and boundaries, or do they mean to create an
ethos, a way of doing things? Those who saw Jeter as a consummate competitor
understood winning as the ultimate goal which is to be pursued by whatever
means not actually prohibited, while those who thought him a cheater understood
the rules to create something bigger than winning.
All
of us function in a world filled with various sorts of rules. I remember going
into my daughters’ elementary school classrooms and seeing the “Class Rules”
listed on a poster. Every day most of us see speed limit signs that we sometimes
obey and sometimes don’t. And questions about whether speeding is wrong or if
it’s okay as long as you don’t go too much over or get caught perhaps mirror
questions about whether or not Derek Jeter cheated.
And
what about religious rules? The Bible is full of rules. There are well known
rules like the Ten Commandments. (At least their existence is well known; most
people can’t actually name them.) Then there are more obscure rules. Flip
through the pages of Leviticus or Deuteronomy some time. There’s a rule against
eating shellfish. And you’d better not be wearing clothing made of a blended
fabrics. If that label says “cotton/polyester” or “wool/cotton blend,” you’re
breaking the rules.
Of
course most of us don’t get too worried about those rules. We’re Christians,
and so we don’t have to obey all those Old Testament rules. As long as we
believe in Jesus, as long as we have faith, we’re okay.
Yet
in the portion of the Sermon on the Mount we heard last week, Jesus said that he
didn’t come to call off the Law but to fulfill it, that not a single letter of
the Law would pass away. And today, far from calling off rules, we hear Jesus
seeming to add to them. Don’t murder is doable for most of us, but Jesus
stretches the rule to include not getting angry. And in Jesus’ new version of
the rules a middle aged man going through a mid-life crisis needn’t have an
affair. He can just think about it, and it’s pretty much the same thing.
Sunday, February 9, 2020
Sermon: On Being Salt and Light
Matthew 5:13-20
On Being Salt and Light
James Sledge February
9, 2020
“You
are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll
never know, dear, how much I love you. Please
don't take my sunshine away.” For some reason this song
popped into my head when I was thinking about salt and light in our gospel
reading. I was wondering whether those words have the same impact they did in
Jesus’ time. They’re both rather mundane.
“Turn
on the light,” someone says, and we flip the switch. Light is everywhere. You
can’t see the stars very well at night in the DMV because there is so much
light. As long as the power doesn’t go out, we take it for granted, which may
be why I thought of the song. You are my sunshine sounds pretty impressive. I
get the metaphor of “You are the light of the world,” but it doesn’t sound as
impressive as sunshine
So
too with salt. A lot of us get too much of it. There’s nothing special about
salt. It’s nothing precious. No one would ever think of salt as an extravagant,
Valentine’s gift.
Yet
in ancient times, salt was often literally worth its weight in gold, one of the
most important commodities of the ancient world. It was used not only to season
food but to preserve it so it could be stored. It was used as an antiseptic; it
was required in the offerings made at the Jerusalem Temple. In some areas,
slabs of rock salt were used as coins.
Light
was also precious. In a world of candles and torches, oil lamps were cutting
edge technology. You had to buy oil to use them, and so no one lit a lamp and
put it under a bushel basket.
“You are the salt of the earth… You are
the light of the world.” Not something mundane or taken for
granted, but precious, valuable, essential for life.
Sunday, February 2, 2020
Sunday, January 26, 2020
Sermon: Slaves to Freedom
Matthew 4:12-23
Slaves to Freedom
James Sledge January
26, 2020
I
once saw a newspaper comic strip that depicted a teenager who was angry at his
parents for not letting him do something he wanted to do. He yelled, “I’ll be
glad when I’m 18 and no one can tell me what to do!” The final panel showed his
parents doubled over in laughter.
As
much as we celebrate freedom and individualism in this country, almost none of
us ever reach the point where no one can tell us what to do. It may be parents, a teacher, or professor;
it may be our boss; it may be the speed limit and the police radar gun, but much
of the time, we either do as others say or suffer the consequences.
We
often wish it were otherwise. That starts early. Toddlers love the word “No!”
Children and adults enjoy saying, “You can’t make me.” Part of American mythology is that anyone can
grow up to be whatever he or she wants to be. We know it’s not really true,
even if it’s truer here than in many countries. But still, we love the idea
that we’re free to become whatever we want, that we can simply decide, and if
we try hard enough, we will make it.
In
some countries, children are given aptitude tests and then slotted into certain
academic or vocational tracks as early as elementary school. That would never fly here.
Yet
despite this, people often ask themselves the question, “What should I do with
my life?” That’s a somewhat different question from “What do I want to do?” What
I want to do is about preference,
but what I should do speaks of
something outside myself having a say.
Sometimes
people go to career counseling services to help figure out what sort of thing
they should do. Some colleges offer such services to their students. People who
are thinking about changing careers sometimes use them. And our denomination
requires people who want to become pastors to be evaluated by a reputable
career center.
This
career counseling usually includes tests that chart personality, interests, and
aptitudes. The process assumes that certain traits are necessary for certain
careers. When I was 12, I would have loved to become a rock and roll star, but
it didn’t take all that many guitar lessons to make it obvious that would never
happen.
So
I’m wondering, what information would you consider in making a decision about
what you should do with your life? Whose
voice would you listen to; what authority would you recognize as having a say
in that decision?
And
this isn’t limited to decisions about career. Life is full of should questions. Where should I go to
college? Should I go to grad school? Should we get married? Should we have
children? How should we raise our children? How should we spend our
retirement? What should we do with our
estate? The list goes on and on. Perhaps you’re wrestling with such a question
right now.
How
do you answer such questions? Who and what get a say in answering the question,
“What should I do?”
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Sunday, January 19, 2020
Sermon: Good News, Total Depravity, and the Lamb of God
John 1:29-42
Good News, Total Depravity, and the Lamb of God
January 19, 2020 James
Sledge
A
vaccine for polio was developed a couple of years before I was born. Prior to
that half a million people were killed or paralyzed by it each year. In 1952
nearly 60,000 US children contracted polio. Over 3000 died and more than 20,000
were left with some sort of paralysis.
The
vaccine was life-altering, front page news. Its developer, Jonas Salk, was a
national hero. I have vague recollections of mass immunization drives at
schools with public service announcements encouraging anyone who’d not yet been
vaccinated to show up, but by the time I was a teenager, you rarely heard
anything about polio. It became part of the normal routine, a required
vaccination, and there wasn’t a lot of need to get the news out anymore.
Our
gospel reading for today contains big, life-altering news from John the
Baptist. At least it’s front page news for Andrew, Simon Peter and others. “Here
is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” John tells
Andrew and he tells Simon Peter. If you keep reading more people get told, and
it won’t be long before crowds start to appear.
Sharing
good news is central to the biblical story of Jesus and the first Christians, so
much so that the our word “gospel” is simply an archaic synonym for “good
news.” And the word “evangelism” is just an anglicized version of the Greek
word meaning gospel or good news.
When
people met Jesus, when people encountered early Christian missionaries, were
baptized and received the Holy Spirit, they told others. It was life changing
news. How could they not. And so what started out a small, apocalyptic Jewish
movement swept over the entire Mediterranean world in short order, drawing in
both Jews and non-Jews.
But
eventually, Christianity became the religion of the Roman Empire. And then it
came to be expected, even required. Before long, Jesus wasn’t front page
news anymore. It was just one of those things you acquired by being a part of
the empire.
Even
after the Roman Empire fell, Christianity remained enmeshed in the empires and
states that followed. For much of the Western world, this Christendom persisted
into the 20th century. With a few exceptions, being Italian or
French or American meant you were expected to be Christian. And baptism was
often seen as a bit like a vaccination given to children. It was on the
checklist. Whooping cough, polio, measles, baptism.
A
lot of people lament the demise of this Christendom, but I’m not one of them.
In Christendom, faith often became just background noise. People blissfully
imagined that faith and nation were perfectly compatible. Not surprisingly,
this Christendom faith made wealth a virtue, supported slavery, was not much
troubled by the genocide of indigenous Americans, and thought God created Africans
inferior to serve whites.
Tomorrow
we honor Martin Luther King, Jr. who challenged the vapid faith of Christendom.
As part of the commemoration of his life and work, the television will show old,
black and white news footage from the Civil Rights movement. We’ll see police
dogs and fire hoses turned on peaceful marchers, and we’ll see police brutally,
sometimes gleefully, beating them, police who were upstanding members of their
local churches.
Occasionally when such events are being
discussed, people – always white people – will explain such behavior as “a product
of the time.” Similar arguments are made in opposition to removing statues of
southern, Civil War generals. They weren’t bad people. They were good people.
They were simply of their time. That was the problem. Not them, the time.
Wednesday, January 15, 2020
Sunday, January 12, 2020
Sermon: Remembering Who We Are
Matthew 3:13-17
Remembering Who We Are
James Sledge January
12, 2020 – Baptism of the Lord
It’s
an old joke, one I’m sure I’ve told before, so if you’ve heard it, please bear
with me. A group of pastors are meeting for lunch. As I assume happens with
other professions, such lunches often include a fair amount of talking shop.
There is some complaining and venting, some idea sharing. “What are y’all doing
for Lent this year?” and other such discussions.
At
this particular lunch, one of the pastors shared that they were having a
problem with bats at the church she served. They had discovered a huge colony
in the steeple and needed to get them out. She wondered if any of the other
pastors had experience with this sort of thing. She didn’t want to hurt the
bats but they were starting to make a pretty big mess.
One
colleague shared the name of a local pest removal company. Another suggested an
ultrasonic pest repeller, but the pastor said they’d already tried one of those
with no success.
Finally
another pastor said, “We had the same problem a few years ago and decided to
enroll them all in confirmation class. When it was over, we never saw them
again.”
For
those of you from other religious traditions, confirmation is step two in a
two-step process for becoming a full-fledged member of a Presbyterian church.
Step one is baptism, something that typically happens when a child is still an
infant. Confirmation, which includes making a public profession of faith, is
the confirming of those baptismal vows, claiming the faith of one’s parents or
guardians as one’s own.
Unfortunately,
confirmation has a long history of becoming a graduation from church. Children
are baptized, attend Sunday School as children, do confirmation as teens, and
pretty much disappear after that. For much of the 20th century, they
often returned to church when they married and had children of their own, but
that pattern has largely broken down. By the latter part of the 20th
century, many of those who graduated never came back.
I
sometimes wonder if we in the church didn’t set ourselves up for this. In a
variety of ways, we portrayed Christian faith as a status that one attains.
Some evangelicals talk about being born again or saved. But what comes after
that? We Presbyterians have rarely used the language of “born again” or being
“saved,” but we still tended to treat Christianity as a status. In many
congregations, Sunday School is seen as something for children. Presumably that
means you are done at some point. You’ve finished, graduated, gotten your Christianity
pin.
Some
parents skip a step and just make infant baptism the graduation. They “get the
baby done,” often at the urging of grandparents. And then they never go near church
again.
Thursday, January 2, 2020
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