Sermon video: Not the Messiah We Wanted

 

Audios and videos of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Not the Messiah We Wanted

 Mark 11:1-10, 15:1-15
Not the Messiah We Wanted
James Sledge                          Palm/Passion Sunday                         March 28, 2021

 

Even if you are not a basketball fan, it’s hard to miss that March Madness, the NCAA tournament is going on for both women and men. No doubt some of you are following the progress or lamenting the failure of a favorite team. Even with fans limited because of Covid, it must be an exciting time for the teams that get invited to the big dance. For many of the players, it will be their only opportunity ever to play on such a big stage.

But if the tournament is a moment of excitement for many, its arrival opens a season of painful waiting for some of the coaches whose teams failed to make the tournament. A few coaches have already been fired, and I’ve read articles debating which coaches are or aren’t on the hot seat.

Coaches at college basketball programs, along with coaches in many sports, pro and college, typically are announced with great fanfare. This is the one who will turn things around, restore the program to prominence, take the team to glory. But big-time sports won’t tolerate losing. The new coach heralded as savior won’t last long if the expected success doesn’t materialize.

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On this day in the church year, we remember when Jesus was introduced to the city of Jerusalem, to the holy city of David. The parade for Jesus was in part a parody of the pomp that accompanied Roman rulers such as Pilate when they came into the city in their chariot, flanked by soldiers in glistening armor. But Jesus’ entry was also a grand affair in its own right. Here is the Messiah, the Savior!

People threw their cloaks onto the road along with leafy branches, recalling royal processions described in their scriptures, what we call the Old Testament. They shouted words from the Psalms. “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” The one who would save Israel was entering into his capital city. Hosanna! indeed.

Except it seems that Jesus didn’t work out as expected. By Friday Jesus was on trial, and no one was shouting “Hosanna!” They were shouting, “Crucify him!” It’s not clear that these were the same people who shouted “Hosanna!” on Sunday, but the crowds had been so enthralled with Jesus earlier in the week that the authorities worried about an uproar if they arrested him. Now those crowds have turned against Jesus. They were done with this failed Messiah.

Sermon video: God's Chosen Vessel

 

Videos and audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website. 

Sermon: God's Chosen Vessel

 Jeremiah 31:31-34
God’s Chosen Vessel

James Sledge                                                                         Lent 5 – March 21, 2021

Jeremiah on the Ruins of Jerusalem

I don’t need to tell any of you what a long, difficult year it’s been. Some of us have been separated from family and friends for all that time. Schools have been closed leaving parents to oversee children’s virtual learning. Often, this responsibility has fallen more heavily on mothers, and a disproportionate number of women have had to put careers on hold during the pandemic.

Teachers have been stressed to the max. Figuring out virtual learning, then figuring out hybrid learning, all while worrying about students’ and their own safety.

For some people the loneliness of the pandemic has been overwhelming. Working from home, isolated from others, seeing people only via zoom; it’s all too much. For others, the constant togetherness of couples working at home, children always there, has put incredible stress on relationships.

Then came the murder of George Floyd and waves of protest around the country and the world. The need to reckon with the legacy of slavery, to address the white supremacist foundations of our nation and the white supremacy still woven into the structures of our society: our legal system, churches, educational system, neighborhoods, economy, and so on, pushed its way into our cultural consciousness.

Throw in a little partisan, political dysfunction, a presidential election filled with bizarre conspiracy theories, and an attempted insurrection, and it’s a wonder that our collective mental health isn’t worse than it is.

I’ve had the luxury of being able to go into the office for most of the pandemic, but the stresses of this last year have taken a toll on me, too. When I talk with colleagues, they speak of overwhelming tiredness that no amount of sleep can cure, and I’ve certainly experienced that. I often feel on the edge of burnout, and so I may not have been in the best frame of mind when I listened to the provocative keynote address by Lenny Duncan at the NEXT Church National Gathering, held virtually, of course.

The Rev. Duncan is a Black, Lutheran pastor and author of the book, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the US. Duncan doesn’t fit the mold of what many of us think of as a pastor He has been homeless and incarcerated, and his speech is peppered with profanities. But what he had to say was hard to ignore.

Sermon video: Loving God Back

 

Videos and audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Loving God Back

 John 3:14-21
Loving God Back
James Sledge                                                                          Lent 4 – March 14, 2021

It was a very long time ago, but I can still recall what for me were the terrors of dating. I was never very good at asking someone out on a date. I found it intimidating. I suppose I’m one of those folks who doesn’t handle rejection very well, and it was awful to contemplate being dismissed by someone I was attracted to.

And when I did start dating someone, and things seemed to be going pretty well, another terror eventually reared its head. At what point was it safe to express the depth of my feelings? I assume this is a fairly common experience as I’ve seen comics do standup routines about blurting out “I love you” only to be met with silence.

But should the person respond with an “I love you, too,” another potential crisis moment may yet lie ahead. At some point the topic of marriage might come up, and here again, the possibility of being the only one interested in that level of commitment is real.

It seems there are a number of crisis moments along the road of love. There are moments when the relationship could move forward, or it could begin to unravel. It all depends on how the other person responds when they hear, “Do you want to go to a movie,” or “I love you,” or “Would you marry me?” It all depends on whether or not that other person is able to return your love, to love you back.

Most people think of love as a good thing, even a wonderful thing, but there are frightening moments along the way, make or break moments.

I’m not sure it is all that different with God’s love. There is a moment when the depth of God’s love for us becomes apparent, and then we have to respond. God says, “I love you,” and then waits to see what we will do. It’s a crisis moment on the road of divine love.

I think that is what Jesus is talking about in our gospel reading this morning. Our verses are part of a much longer passage the begins when Nicodemus, a Pharisee, comes to see Jesus at night. Nicodemus is clearly impressed by Jesus, and he comes hoping to learn more. But he is also wary. Presumably he comes at night so he won’t be seen.

Nicodemus struggles to understand. When Jesus talks to him about the need to be “born from above,” Nicodemus takes Jesus literally and hears “born again.” Jesus’ attempts to further explain things make no headway, and the last thing we hear Nick say is “How can these things be?” After that, Nicodemus seems to disappear from the scene. In the verses just prior to our reading, Jesus shifts from speaking to “you” singular, instead addressing “you” plural. The gospel never reports Nicodemus’ departure, but by the time we hear Jesus’ words this morning, he is talking past Nicodemus to the readers of John’s gospel.

Our reading has one of the more famous lines from the gospel. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16 gets written on posters and bumper stickers and featured in tattoos. One fellow became famous for wearing a rainbow wig and holding a sign the read, John 3:16.

It’s easy to see why this verse is a favorite. God loves the world so much that Jesus would come and even die to show the depth of that love. It’s also easy to see why no one ever holds up a sign that reads John 3:18, “…but those who do not believe are condemned already,” or John 3:19, “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light…” Let’s just talk about how nice God’s love is, not how it produces a crisis.

Perhaps it will interest you to know that the Greek word translated “judgment” is kri/sij (krisis) the origin of our word crisis. It can also be translated “decision” or “choice,” and that is exactly what must be done when someone says, “I love you,” when God says “I love you.” You must decide if you are going to love the person back, if you are going to love God back.

When someone says, “I love you,” you must go one way or the other. If you return the love you move toward them. If you can’t or won’t love the person back, you push them away. The crisis that comes with “I love you,” doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room. Even if you don’t respond at all, that is a response. You’ve given an answer.

I wonder if people intuitively realize this about God’s love and so look for ways to forestall the crisis. A lot of church folks work pretty hard at not getting serious with God. For some reason the whole religion thing feels comforting to them or they feel a certain pull toward faith, but they don’t dare let it go too far. They don’t want to get in too deep.

Perhaps that’s the case with Nicodemus whose nighttime visit to Jesus prompted the words that we heard this morning, words about the crisis of encountering the bright light of God’s love.

I wonder if Nicodemus even heard these words. I’ve always thought that when Jesus shifts from a singular you to a plural one that it’s just a literary device, a way the gospel writer lets the reader hear Jesus addressing them. But perhaps Nicodemus has already slipped away into the night and is no longer there. He’s put some distance between himself and Jesus before any moment of crisis can arise. But he’s made his decision. He came in the dark and he leaves in the dark. “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light…”

That’s a little depressing. Nicodemus doesn’t go all in for Jesus when he meets him, and that’s it? He’s condemned already because he couldn’t do anything more than hang around the edges, couldn’t actually respond to God’s “I love you” in the right way? Then what about all of us who hang around the edges and avoid getting serious with God?

Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus in the dark and slinks away in the dark doesn’t ever come back for a second visit. He never sees Jesus again as far as we know. But this is not the last time Nick appears in John’s gospel. His final appearance is in broad daylight, when Jesus dies on the cross and Joseph of Arimathea comes to ask Pilate for the body. John’s gospel tells us, Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing almost a hundred pounds.

That’s an incredibly extravagant gift Nicodemus brings for Jesus’ funeral. Somewhere in the years between that confused, nighttime conversation and the cross, he must have come to that crisis point and decided to step into the light. Nick seemed to have been judged already, condemned already. He hid from the light. He couldn’t quite believe that Jesus was indeed God’s “I love you” to the world.

But God so loves the world, a world that often resists God. And if Nicodemus is any guide, God takes the long view of things. God’s “I love you” hovers over the world, over all creation, waiting for us to recognize it for what it is and respond. “I love you, too,” waiting for us to learn how to love God back.

Sermon: God's Daring Imagination

Exodus 20:1-17
God’s Daring Imagination
James Sledge                                                                          Lent 3 - March 7, 2021

 

Moses receiving the Ten Commandments, 

6^th century mosaic, St. Catherine’s monastery, Mt. Sinai

from Art in the Christian Tradition, 

a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library

When a US representative or senator is sworn into office, when the president is inaugurated, or when an officer is commissioned in one of our military branches, they all take an oath to “…defend the Constitution of the United States." Clearly this does not refer to protecting the actual document but to protecting what that document envisions.

The Constitution intends to provide the framework for building a particular sort of society, one with a balance between individual liberties and a government that has the powers necessary to build and maintain a healthy, functioning republic. Of course not everyone agrees on exactly what the Constitution means, something we saw just recently in the arguments over whether or not a president could be impeached after leaving office.

That debate focused on what the Constitution says or doesn’t say. Judges and Supreme Court justices must wrestle with the meaning of the Constitution on a regular basis in order to decide the outcome of cases before them. But very often, the Constitution functions more as a symbol, and such symbols aren’t necessarily born of careful reflection on the document’s meaning.

Constitution as symbol can stand for democracy or freedom or limited government or states’ rights or the American way and so on. Often it is simply assumed to support whatever viewpoint is held by those wielding it as a symbol. I have little doubt that many of the insurrectionists who stormed the US Capitol presumed that the Constitution was on their side.

When complex ideas get reduced to symbol, they struggle to produce what those ideas imagine and envision. Symbols are easily co-opted by whoever is using them, even if what they want is at odds with the ideas behind the symbol.

That is as true with religion as it is with politics. Jesus, the Bible, the cross, even Christianity itself can become symbols supporting causes at odds with what Jesus teaches, what is found in the Bible, or the basic tenets of Christianity.

Sermon video: God's Daring Imagination

 

Audios and videos and sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon video: Taming the Toddler Self

 

Videos and audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: Taming the Toddler Self

Mark 8:31-38
Taming the Toddler Self

James Sledge                                                                                      February 28, 2021

Get Thee Behind Me, Satan! James Tissot (1836-1902)

from Art in the Christian Tradition, 

a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library

A three-year-old thinks he should be able to eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His parents think that is a bad idea. Are the parents right?

A four-year-old sees no problem with riding her scooter on the shoulder of the busy street in front of their house. Her parents insist that this will not happen. Are the parents right?

A fourteen-year-old announces that he is dropping out of school to hitchhike across the country, but his parents refuse to let him. He insists that it is his life, and he should be able to do with it as he wishes, but his parents won’t budge. Who is in the right?

The three-year-old, the four-year-old, and the fourteen-year-old are all quite sure they are in the right, that their parents are being arbitrary and harsh by denying them what they want, what they are quite sure will make them happy. But I suspect that the vast majority of parents would do exactly as these parents did, and without the least bit of concern that they being harsh or unreasonable. I think most adults would think these parents justified in their actions, believing that the parents have a better understanding of what it best for their children.

And when these children grow up and become adults, able to make their own decisions even if they are foolish, there will still be limits set for them. They may really want to drive their car through the neighborhood at a hundred miles an hour, but the combined wisdom of society says “No” to that and is more than willing to punish them if they insist on doing what they want.

However, the individualism and consumerism of our day make it more difficult to speak of common good to which all are required to contribute. The notion that I don’t have to wear a mask if I don’t want to, that I need not believe in science or facts if I don’t want to are cases in point. It’s as if more and more in our society are becoming like toddlers who simply want what they want, but without a parent or an adult to tell them “No.”

Of course many of us do wear our masks, and we don’t think we can simply ignore science or facts without any consequences. We aren’t toddlers who believe we can simply get whatever we want because we want it. Except maybe in the arena of faith or religion.

Sermon video: A Glimpse of God's Heart

 

Videos and audios of sermons and worship available on the FCPC website.

Sermon: A Glimpse of God’s Heart

 Genesis 9:8-17
A Glimpse of God’s Heart
James Sledge                                                                          Lent 1 - February 21, 2021

Reminder, Mike Moyers, 2012

from Art in the Christian Tradition, 

a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library

I’ve read a number of newspaper articles and opinion pieces connecting the January 6 assault on the US Capitol to Christian nationalism. One of the insurrectionists stood at the Senate podium and called out, “Jesus Christ, we invoke your name. Amen.” And the shirtless QAnon shaman wearing a Viking headpiece offered gratitude to God for the opportunity to speak against all those he imagines a threat to a white, Christian nation.

Along with Confederate battle flags, those storming the Capitol also carried flags reading “Jesus Saves” and “Jesus 2020.” The noxious mix of white supremacy and nationalism with evangelical Christianity was on full display. That is not to tar all evangelicals with the same brush, but the ease with which some who claim to be Christian embrace hate, racism, idolatry, and violence is appalling to witness.

It is hard not to imagine Jesus weeping over the way his name is invoked in all manner of hate, the way he is coopted for political movements that happily espouse hate and violence against opponents, the very antithesis of how Jesus lived and what he taught.

But there’s nothing new here. Over the years Christians have supported crusades and the wholesale killing of Muslims, inquisitions and the slaughter of Jews. In our nation Christian faith was used to justify slavery, genocide of Native Americans, and Jim Crow segregation. “Christians” have been in the vanguard of movements against LGBTQ peoples. Surely at some point Jesus would be justified in saying, “Enough already! I’m done with all of you.”

“All of you” might well include more progressive Christians, too. It is true that we tend not to invoke Jesus’ name against others, but we often practice a kind of watered-down, Christianity-light that tries to be kind and nice but has limited interest in actually following the difficult, self-denying way of Jesus.

Might Jesus, might God, simply tire of us at some point and say, “That’s it!” Might God conclude that humanity is a lost cause?

This is a serious theological question. Is there a point at which God throws in the towel? Might God say, “Go ahead and destroy yourselves through climate change, nuclear weapons, or some other catastrophe? You’re on your own. I have no use for you, your churches, your religions.”

The Noah saga in the book of Genesis wrestles with just such questions. Unfortunately, Christians of all stripes tend to miss the sophisticated theological thought expressed here. Conservatives are too caught up in defending the literal, historical account of Noah to see the theological themes being wrestled with. And liberal Christians are so embarrassed by biblical literalism that we think Noah primitive myth with little to say to us. That both sides make Noah a children’s story shows how little we appreciate what is tries to say.

The Noah epic is a long one, far too long to read in worship, and so our passage for this morning speaks only of the story’s end. But you cannot understand the Noah saga without knowing the beginning. The beginning of the story says, Yahweh saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually. And Yahweh was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. The story depicts a heartbroken God whose passion issues forth, initially, in a desire to be done with it all, to destroy and perhaps start all over.

Noah enters into the story as a small ray of hope. There is someone who pleases God, and so there is an ark. A “righteous remnant” will be preserved, even as Creation descends back into the chaos of In the beginning,  when the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.

When we meet God in today’s reading from Genesis, the flood itself is over. The righteous remnant has emerged from the ark to repopulate the earth. But curiously, the underlying problem remains. As Noah and company first leave the ark God promises never again to destroy because “the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth.”  The horrors of the flood, the terrible destruction, and nothing has changed. Except perhaps God.

Surely God’s heart remains broken. The basic problem with the human heart has not changed, but God has a startling change of heart. God drastically alters course. The human creatures continue to resist God. Perhaps they always will; just look at the news. But God will no longer meet human resistance with overwhelming force. God retires the divine armory and puts it into storage.  “I have set my bow in the clouds.” 

In ancient thought, God’s bow fired lightning bolts. But God says that bow will no longer be used. God has hung it up. It is not unlike one of those old tanks or military aircraft in a park where children climb over them, artifacts whose cannons have been plugged and engines removed, threats no more, only reminders.

God’s retired bowed is now just reminder. This dangerous weapon now decorates children’s bedrooms and elicits oohs and aahs when it appears after a rain shower. And according to the story, it’s as much a reminder for God as for us. “When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh.”

It may seem odd to speak of God needing to remember. Surely this is a primitive image of God. But in reality, Israel’s theologians are using the story to make a point. Yahweh’s commitment to humanity is a costly one. God’s love is so often unrequited that it tears at God’s heart. It is the same inner turmoil seen when Jesus prays in the garden of Gethsemane that he might somehow avoid the cross. But that would require a forgetting. And Yahweh promises to remember.

The Lenten devotional booklet that many of you contributed to is organized around the idea of pause. It recommends a Lenten discipline of pausing each day to read through John’s gospel and reflect on it. Remembering requires a pause. When we are reacting to what goes on around us, when we are in a hurry, it is difficult to take stock, to remember.

Lent is a time to pause and remember, to remember who we are and who God is. The Ash Wednesday liturgy says, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” This is a call to remember our creatureliness, created beings dependent on our Creator. It is a call to remember that as creatures, we cannot finally bless ourselves by the anxious acquiring of any sort of enough. In the end, blessing, true and full life, are not things we acquire by striving. They are gifts given as we are shaped by a true recalling of who we are and who God is.

In his book, Remember You Are Dust, Walter Brueggemann writes, “When we remember that we are dust, we are made freshly aware that along with our remembering, God is remembering and regarding.”

In our world with all its problems and troubles, in the face of partisan rancor, relentless pandemic, loud and emboldened voices of hate and violence, economic uncertainty, and more, it is easy to imagine that God is distant, absent, unnoticing of us, inattentive to us. But God has promised to remember us, to regard us, to be for us.

And if the rainbow is God’s touchstone for remembering and regarding, the cross is ours. Without reducing the cross to easy, mechanical formulas of salvation, Jesus assures us that it is a remembering, a regarding of us. “This is my body that is for you.”

Pause, rest, be still, and remember. Pause, rest, be still, and know that you are remembered. And let that remembering, both yours and God’s, shape and form you for life that the world cannot give, but can only be received, a gift from God.