Sunday, September 6, 2020

Sermon: Laws, Rules, and Who We Truly Are

Romans 13:8-10
Laws, Rules, and Who We Truly Are
James Sledge                                                                                       September 6, 2020

I hope I haven’t told this too many times, but there’s an old joke about an engaged couple who are killed just days before their wedding. On arriving in heaven they say to St. Peter, “We were supposed to get married this weekend. Is it possible to get married in heaven?”
Peter thought for a moment and said, “I suppose so. I’ll get right back to you.”
A year later, Peter came to the couple and said, “Everything’s worked out. We’re ready for your wedding.”
 “That’s great,” they replied, “but you know, we’ve had a year to think about this, and we were just wondering. If things don’t work out, is it possible to get a divorce in heaven?”
Peter rolled his eyes and said, “It took me a whole year to find a minister in this place. Now you want me to find a lawyer!?”
Long ago, when ministers were held in high regard, this joke might not have worked. But between Joel Osteen, Creflo Dollar, Jim Bakker, pedophile priests, and evangelical leaders more interested in political power than Jesus’ teachings, pastors are fair game now.
Lawyers, on the other hand, have been the butt of jokes for centuries. Shakespeare had characters in his plays speak ill of them. Obviously many lawyers are good and decent folk who conduct themselves with integrity, but a number of factors cause people to dislike them. Some view them as helping criminals, or as money hungry “ambulance chasers.” It doesn’t help that lots of politicians are lawyers. Then there is simply the nature of laws themselves.

Sunday, August 30, 2020

Sermon: Consumers, Faith, and God's Call

Exodus 3:1-15; (Matthew 16:21-28)
Consumers, Faith, and God’s Call
James Sledge                                                                                                   August 30, 2020

I don’t suppose I need to tell anyone that we live in an age when many people see no necessary link between what they hold to be true and what evidence, facts, or logic might seem to dictate. This is not entirely new. The quip, “My mind is made up. Don’t confuse me with the facts,” has apparently been around since before I was born.
However, the idea that people can simply choose the truth that suits them has reached new heights in our day. I’m not sure there was ever a prior moment in American history when the term “alternative facts” would have been offered as a serious answer to any question.
The notion that I can have whatever truth suits me is not without serious, even dangerous consequences. Many continue to insist that climate change in not a problem despite overwhelming scientific evidence. And choosing one’s own truth need not be partisan, I know my share of liberals who embrace the most absurd conspiracy theories while insisting that the complete lack of supporting evidence is the result of some plot to keep that information hidden.
But I don’t bring any of this up to lament the state of rational discourse in our day. I’m more interested in how we got here and how it impacts our spiritual lives. I doubt there is a definitive answer as to how we found this

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Sermon - Traditions: Big "T" or Little "t"

Matthew 15:1-28
Traditions: Big “T” or Little “t”
James Sledge                                                                                       August 16, 2020

Some of you may recall that when I first became pastor here, the Lord’s Prayer concluded the prayers of the people on most Sundays. On communion Sundays, it moved, becoming part of the Great Thanksgiving in the Lord’s Supper liturgy. (We had no informal service then, only the one in the sanctuary.)
We Presbyterians don’t have a fixed, mandated liturgy, but we do have a Book of Common Worship which suggests an order of service rooted in our theological understanding of worship. The latest edition of that book says. “The norm of Christian worship is to celebrate the Lord’s Supper on each Lord’s Day. If the Lord’s Supper is omitted, the service may include a prayer of thanksgiving concluding with the Lord’s Prayer.” (p. 25)
At some point early in my time here, I brought this up in a staff meeting. We all agreed that it made sense for the prayer to be in the same relative place each week and so we began following the order in the Book of Common Worship.
When the change was made, I heard from a member who was upset, furious might be a better description. This person could not believe I moved the Lord’s Prayer from the place where it belonged and said I had ruined the integrity of the service. I did my best to explain the reasons, but to no avail. The conversation caught me a bit off guard. I’d not expected a change that I thought minor would be so offensive to someone.
All church congregations develop traditions around how they do things, and pastors violate those traditions at their own peril. There are big “T” traditions such as celebrating baptisms and the Lord’s Supper or reading Scripture and preaching from it. And there are little “t” traditions such as whether to use organ, piano, or guitars, or where the Lord’s Prayer should go in the service. But whether a tradition is a big “T” or a little one doesn’t always determine how important it is to people.
The issue of tradition runs all through our Scripture this morning, both in Jesus’ conflict with the Pharisees and his encounter with a Canaanite woman. And I feel certain that Matthew places these two stories next to one another so that they inform discussions about tradition that were surely taking place in the congregation Matthew writes for.

Sunday, August 9, 2020

Testing Faith: Stepping Out of the Boat

Matthew 14:22-33
Testing Faith: Stepping Out of the Boat
James Sledge                                                                                                   August 9, 2020

Even in an age of biblical illiteracy, a great many people have heard of Jesus walking on the water. It’s a well-worn metaphor. The part about Peter walking on the water may not be as well known, but I heard the story enough growing up in the church that it’s familiar to me and, perhaps, to many of you.
If you are familiar with the story, what are your thoughts on Peter? How does he function in this story, as a heroic figure, an example to follow? Or is he a vivid illustration of the disciples’ regular failure to “get it,” their struggles with faith?
I don’t know if I came to this on my own or if I picked it up along the way from sermons and Sunday School, but I’ve long thought of Peter as a cautionary tale, a failure, the one you don’t want to be, soaking wet with Jesus wagging a finger at you. “You of little faith…”
I mentioned in last week’s sermon how my father read Bible stories to us as children. This helped me learn many of the major stories from the Bible, but it also oversimplified them, making them a bit like comic books. And that view of Scripture stuck with me well into adulthood.
I thought of the Bible as mostly a collection of simple, even crude stories with clear and obvious meanings. This thinking was encouraged by popular notions of the Bible as straightforward reports of “what happened.” It never occurred to me that much of the Bible was written by sophisticated theological thinkers who told carefully nuanced stories, filled with symbolism and multiple layers of meaning.
In my simple, comic book view, our gospel reading is a plain old miracle story, another fantastical account of the unbelievable stuff Jesus could do. The disciples are there just to provide terrified, awe-filled witnesses, and Peter, well Peter’s tendency to speak first and think later always got him into trouble. And here he goes again.

Sunday, August 2, 2020

Sermon: Assaulted by God

Genesis 32:22-31
Assaulted by God
James Sledge                                                                                                   August 2, 2020

When I was a child, my father would read Bible stories to us before bed. I can still see the big Bible Story book he used. It had stories about Jesus, but as a child, the Old Testament stories stood out more. There were a lot of “hero” type stories: David fighting the giant Goliath with only a sling, Samson, the Hebrew version of Hercules. And then there were all those stories about Abraham and Sarah and their offspring: Isaac, Esau and Jacob, and then all of Jacob’s sons, including Joseph.
The characters in those Bible stories didn’t seem much like real people to me. Perhaps that was just how far removed they were historically and culturally. Or perhaps it was because the Bible stories themselves had a kind of comic book quality to them.
Whatever the reasons, I was well into adulthood before it dawned on me what a messed up, dysfunctional family Abraham and Sarah’s clan was. It starts with the half-brothers Ishmael and Isaac and only gets worse from there.
Rebekah and Isaac have twin boys, Esau and Jacob. Esau is the first born by a few seconds, and the sibling rivalry is off and running. Not that the parents help matters much. Dad likes Esau, and Mom likes Jacob. Esau is an outdoorsy, hunting and fishing sort of guy,  and Dad plans to pass on the family business to him. Jacob is a Momma’s boy who likes hanging out in the tent. He’s also sneaky and manipulative, a scoundrel who takes advantage of Esau’s tendency to act first and think later. And his mother is happy to assist.
Jacob and Esau are born when Isaac is quite old, and he is feeble and blind by the time the boys are fully grown. Sensing that his time is short, Isaac calls Esau and asks him to go out hunting and bring back some savory game they can enjoy together. After the meal, Isaac will formally sign over the family business. In the language of the Bible, he will bless Esau.

Sunday, July 26, 2020

Sermon: Red Socks: Dare We Be Christians?

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
Red Socks - Dare We Be Christians?
James Sledge                                                                                       July 26, 2020

Have you ever done a load of white laundry, and something dark got mixed in? A single, red item somehow went unnoticed, and you open the washer to discover that everything has turned pink. It’s amazing the way one, unseen thing can give you a new wardrobe.
Jesus says that the kingdom of heaven, the coming rule of God, is a little like that. Jesus speaks of yeast and mustard seeds rather than red socks, but the meaning is much the same. Mustard plants weren’t typically grown as crops in Palestine, but the tiny seeds did find their way into the grain farmers sowed. The minuscule, dust-like seeds were easy to miss amidst the grain. Only later would the farmer realize that a fast growing mustard plant was transforming his field into something quite other than he had intended.
And the yeast in Jesus’ parable is not the packaged product we buy in stores for baking. This leaven is dough that has soured, begun to go bad. Bread makers know it as starter. It is added to a new mix of dough to make it rise in baking.
In the Bible, leaven is almost always a symbol of corruption. Leavened bread could never be used as an offering to God. At Passover, not only was leavened bread forbidden, but no trace of leaven was allowed in people’s homes. And Jesus himself speaks of the teachings of the Pharisees as leaven, something that corrupts and distorts the good gift of God’s Law.
But in the parables we heard this morning, Jesus speaks of God’s hoped-for new day as like a mustard seed that unexpectedly sprang up in the field, like leaven that has transformed the bread into something that is no longer fit to be offered to God, like a red sock that has turned white dress shirts pink.