Tuesday, October 2, 2018
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Sermon: Getting Our Mojo Back
Mark 9:30-37
Getting Our Mojo Back
September 23, 2018 James
Sledge
I
spent much of my childhood and youth in Charlotte, NC, back in the days when TV
had a total of six or seven channels. Of these, the CBS affiliate dominated the
local market and also owned the largest radio station. It had a number of high
profile, charity events each year, but the one I recall the most vividly was an
annual on air blood drive.
They
advertised it heavily. Corporate sponsors provided food, refreshments, and
gifts. Radio and TV personalities worked the event. CBS sent in stars from
various shows, and all during the day they would have live broadcasts interviewing
donors, talking about how easy is was, how almost painless it was.
The
event was always a huge success with more than a thousand people donating
blood. The Red Cross blood bank would be as full as it ever got, but this blood
drive never seemed to convert many into regular donors. Year after year, most
of those interviewed were first time donors, and year after year, it wasn’t
long before the Red Cross was making pleas to the public about critically short
blood supplies. The gifts, glitz, celebrities, and chance to be on TV drew in
lots of people, but when it was all over, they went back to old patterns, ones
that didn’t include giving blood.
A
similar pattern showed up in the early Jesus movement. The gospels report huge
crowds coming out to see this miracle working, charismatic,
teacher-prophet-messiah. But by and large, the crowds saw the show, perhaps got
a healing, and then went home to their old lives.
The
early reflected this. It was a small movement, and you see that in the New
Testament. In his letters, the Apostle Paul deals with questions about what parts
of normal, civic participation are out of bounds for followers of Jesus,
questions that arise because the Christians are a tiny minority. So too some of
the gospels address communities struggling to remain faithful when doing so may
get them ostracized from polite society.
We
tend to think of the Bible as a public book, but the individual components of
the New Testament – which didn’t really exist as we know it for a few hundred
years after Jesus – were not understood that way. They were not used to spread
the Christian message but to help existing Christian communities deal with
issues that they faced. The books that would become the New Testament weren’t
for the masses, but for the dedicated few.
It’s
easy to see why the early Jesus movement tended to be small. While Jesus might
have made a big splash and attracted a lot of gawkers, people hoping for a
healing, or a political messiah to take on the Romans, many of Jesus’ teachings
were not real crowd pleasers. The teachings we heard this morning are no exception.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Sermon: Answering (and Living) the Jesus Question
Mark 8:27-38
Answering (and Living) the Jesus Question
James Sledge September
16, 2018
The
other day I stopped into the grocery store to grab a couple of items. As I looked
for them, I happened down an aisle that was filled with Halloween candy and
paraphernalia. I shouldn’t have been
surprised – it’s September after all, but I was. It was one of those sultry,
ninety degree days, and it didn’t feel anything like fall.
But
fall is almost here, which means the election is just around the corner. I’ve
been something of a political junkie for much of my life, but I confess that
I’ve grown tired of it. I don’t want to see all the political ads. I don’t want
to see candidates who wrap themselves in a Christian mantle while spouting
hatred and intolerance and outright racist ideas. I especially don’t want to
watch another round of church leaders doing irreparable damage to the image of
the faith by insisting that candidates who show not the tiniest inclination to
follow the teachings of Jesus are somehow God’s candidate. Wake me when it’s
over.
Of
course then the Christmas shopping season will be almost upon us, complete with
culture war skirmishes. Some of the same folks who touted God’s candidates will
insist that we “put Christ back in Christmas,” and they’ll get angry if someone
says “Happy Holidays.” Sigh… Wake me when it’s over.
It’s
amazing all the ways that Jesus or Christ or God or Christian faith gets
invoked to support all manner of things. There are churches that celebrate the
Second Amendment in worship and encourage members to bring their guns. There
are churches that loudly proclaim, “God Hates Fags.” There are churches that
say Donald Trump is God’s man in the White House, and there are churches that
stage protests against Donald Trump. There are churches that see same sex relationships
as an abomination and sin, and there are churches that marry same sex couples.
And all these churches, at least all that call themselves Christian, claim
Christ in some way.
When
people insist that we put Christ back in Christmas, which one do they mean? Is
it the one who blesses same sex marriages? Is it the one who says to love your
enemy and not to resist the one who strikes you? Or is it a different Christ? How
many of them are there? Sometimes it seems that we Christians have been given
the answer to the question, but we’re not at all sure what that answer means.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Sermon: Tribalism Meets God's Love and Grace
Mark 7:24-37
Tribalism Meets God’s Love and Grace
James Sledge September
9, 2018
A
great deal has been written and discussed of late on how tribal we’ve become in
America. I read something the other day following the death of John McCain that
said although Senator McCain was widely admired, he had become something of a
political pariah in his home state of Arizona. All three Republican candidates
in the recent Arizona senate primary either distanced themselves from McCain or
outright disparaged him.
McCain’s
hostility to President Trump is certainly one reason for this, but tribalism is
involved as well. Tribalism draws very clear us and them boundaries and tends
to view “them” as the enemy. Someone like McCain, who would work with members
of the other party and even work against his own party when his principles
required it, looks very suspicious to those who view the world from a tribal
perspective.
We
humans seem to have an innate tendency towards tribalism. We may not be born
racists or homophobes or sexists or elitists or any other sort of ists, but we
seek comfort and security and purpose by coalescing into groups with others who
are like us in some way. It starts at a very young age. School children often
form cliques that can be hostile and cruel to those who don’t fit into their
group.
This
is not a recent phenomenon. In Jesus’ day there were numerous divisions and
groups. The Pharisees were a reform movement centered on synagogue and
following scripture, opposed to what they saw as the corrupt, priestly Judaism of
the Jerusalem Temple. The Essenes withdraw entirely into their own, separatist
community in reaction to perceived Temple corruption and a world too accommodating
to Greco-Roman culture. Then there was the Jewish – Gentile divide, the biggest
tribal division of Jesus’ day.
These
divisions are different than those of our day, and some may strike us as odd.
But they functioned much the same as the divisions we hardly notice. We gather
here for worship each week and frequently hear Paul’s words that say, There
is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer
male and female; for all are one in Christ Jesus. But we hardly
represent the diversity and inclusiveness these words suggest. We’re not a
representative sampling of America or even our immediate community. We’re
whiter, wealthier, more liberal, more likely to be cultural elitists, and so
on.
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Sunday, September 2, 2018
Sermon: Stained by the World
James 1:17-27
Stained by the World
James Sledge September
2, 2018
There
was an article in The Washington Post recently
entitled, “Are rich people more likely
to lie, cheat, steal? Science explains the world of Manafort and Gates.”[1]
If you followed Paul Manafort’s recent trial, you know about the $15,000
ostrich and python jackets, the exorbitant lifestyle and the lengths he was
willing to go to maintain that lifestyle.
And of course Manafort is but one example in a
litany of cases involving insider trading, misuse of campaign contributions,
and so on. According to the Post article,
a growing body of scientific evidence finds that wealth, power, and privilege “makes
you feel like you’re above the law… allows you to treat others like they don’t
exist.”
Among the scientific studies was one where researchers
watched four-way stop intersections. Expensive cars were significantly less
likely to wait their turn than older and cheaper cars. The same researchers
sent pedestrians into crosswalks and observed which cars obeyed the law and
stopped when someone was in the crosswalk. Every single one of the older,
cheaper cars stopped, but only half of the expensive cars did.
Drawing on many different research studies the Post article said, “That research has
shown the rich cheat more on
their taxes. They cheat more on their romantic
partners. The wealthy and better-educated are more likely to
shoplift. They are more likely to cheat at
games of chance. They are often less
empathetic. In studies
of charitable giving, it is often the
lower-income households that donate higher
proportions of their income than middle-class and many
upper-income folk.”
This sort of research is relatively new, and so
there is a lot it cannot say about why or how this all works. But the evidence
is pretty compelling that being wealthy and/or powerful has a tendency to make
you an awful person. And perhaps that’s exactly the sort of thing our scripture
is worried about when it to keep oneself
unstained by the world.
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Sermon: More Than What We Know
John 6:35, 41-51
More Than What We
Know
August 12, 2018 James
Sledge
The bread of life; the bread that
came down from heaven; the living bread that came down from heaven. If
you’ve been around the church for much of your life, these sayings may not
register as particularly problematic. But think about what odd statements they
are. Jesus says he is bread, living bread at that, and bread that came down
from heaven. It’s hardly surprising that “the Jews” complain about this.
(Jews, by the way, is a term used in
John’s gospel to designate Jesus’ opponents and not all those who follow the traditions
of Moses. Jesus and his disciples are Jews after all.)
I would think that many Jews who
heard Jesus talk about bread that came down from heaven – and I include Jesus’
own followers here – would immediately have thought about the manna that the
Israelites ate in the wilderness when Moses led them out of Egypt. That was
truly bread that came down from heaven. And Jesus clearly wasn’t manna.
Then there is the whole “came down
from heaven” thing. Unlike manna, Jesus wasn’t found out of the ground early in
the morning. He showed up just like any of us did, born as a helpless little
baby. Some listening to Jesus knew his family. They knew without a doubt that
he had not come down from heaven.
Many of Jesus’ opponents were
religious leaders, and they “knew” lots of things about scripture and God and
how to be a good member of God’s chosen people. And along with obvious things
such as knowing Jesus’ mom and dad, there were religious problems with what
Jesus said. For Jews, and for early Christians, heaven was God’s home. People,
living or dead, didn’t go there. To be from heaven was to be divine, and
scripture clearly said that God was one. Jesus couldn’t be from heaven.
Sunday, August 5, 2018
Sermon: Fauxpologies and Acknowledging the Truth
2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a
Fauxpologies and
Acknowledging the Truth
James Sledge August
5, 2018
They have become so ubiquitous
that they have their own article on Wikipedia. I’m talking about the non-apology apology, sometimes called
the nonpology or fauxpology. Most of us have probably employed them at times. But
what makes them infamous is their use by politicians and celebrities in
attempts to quell some sort of PR nightmare.
The #MeToo movement has led to
some terrible examples. Take this one from Charlie Rose. "It is essential
that these women know I hear them and that I deeply apologize for my
inappropriate behavior. I am greatly embarrassed. I have behaved insensitively
at times, and I accept responsibility for that, though I do not believe that
all of these allegations are accurate. I always felt that I was pursuing shared
feelings, even though I now realize I was mistaken."
Why do such horrible non-apologies
occur so often, especially from, media savvy politicians and celebrities who
have PR people? Why do people try so hard, in such ridiculous and laughable
fashion, to avoid responsibility? What is it about us humans that so hates to
admit that we failed, that we hurt someone, that we were self-centered,
thoughtless, and cruel? Why do we try so hard to avoid blame, even when it
makes matters worse?
Martin
Luther, the great Protestant reformer, said that when you find yourself before
the judgment seat of God, plead your faults not your merits. Jesus once told a
parable that made much the same point. Two
men go to the Temple to pray. One says he isn’t as bad as other folk, tries
hard to follow the commandments, and gives lots of money to the church. But the
other man is a tax collector, literally a criminal enterprise in Jesus’ day. He
stood off in a corner, beating his breast and said, “God, be merciful to me, a
sinner!” And Jesus says it is the tax collector who goes home right in God’s
eyes. (Luke 18:9-14)
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Monday, July 30, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Sermon: Letting Jesus into the Boat
John 6:1-21
Letting Jesus in the Boat
James Sledge July
29, 2018
The Lord
is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. The word Lord
doesn’t actually appear in the 23rd psalm, but most English
translations continue a Jewish practice that replaces the personal name of God
with “Lord.” Many Bibles print it in all capitals to alert you to this.
Jesus said, "Make the people sit down."
Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down… Translated
literally, Jesus said, “Make the people lie down,” and they
lie down in the grass, in green pastures. Once I saw that, I couldn’t help but
hear echoes of the 23rd psalm. And those aren’t the only echoes here.
John’s
gospel has no Last Supper, but here, at Passover, Jesus took the loaves, and when
he had given thanks, he distributed them… Jesus also distributes fish
which was often part of communion in the early church. The first readers of
John’s gospel surely saw their own celebration of the Lord’s Supper reflected
in this story.
Jesus
says, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost."
When God had Moses feed the people of Israel with manna in the wilderness, no
leftovers could be gathered. But here the leftover bread, manna, fills twelve
baskets.
John’s
gospel is quite different from the so-called synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark,
and Luke. Those three gospels present a very human looking Jesus, but John goes
to great lengths to present Jesus as fully divine. Jesus is the Word, the logos
of God. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word
was God.
In
John, Jesus, the Word made flesh, is the Good Shepherd, the bread of life, the
resurrection and the life, God. But the crowd doesn’t get that. They think him
a prophet and want to make him king, so Jesus withdraws to the mountain. The
gospel doesn’t say how he manages this without the crowd following, but he is
God in the flesh, after all.
Once
they realize Jesus is gone, the crowd disperses and heads home, leaving only the
disciples. As darkness approaches, they make their way to the boat and head for
Capernaum, for home. Says the gospel, It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come
to them.
Does
that strike you as at all odd? Jesus hasn’t come to them yet, hasn’t gotten
there yet, but the disciples head out without him. What’s that about?
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Sermon: In Need of a Shepherd
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
In Need of a Shepherd
James Sledge July
22, 2018
They had no leisure even to eat. Some of you
may know what it’s like for work to keep you so busy that you must eat at your
desk. Perhaps your harried, over-scheduled life makes you grab something to eat
on the way to school, practice, work, volunteering or whatever.
Jesus’
disciples have just returned, exhausted from their first mission trip without
Jesus, but the demands of the crowd are constant. "Come away to a deserted
place all by yourselves and rest a while," says Jesus. He is
concerned about them. Humans are not designed to keep going all the time. They
need Sabbath, rest, times of silence and stillness.
Jesus’
concern for his disciples causes him to shut down the ministry for a bit.
Unfortunately, the planned retreat gets interrupted. The only alone time they
get is in the boat. When they get to their destination, a crowd is already
there. Jesus is concerned for his disciples, but he is concerned for crowd as
well. They are lost and need help, like sheep without a shepherd to guide and
protect them.
I
wonder if they realize they are lost. Perhaps they are just curious about this
strange new rabbi. Perhaps they are looking for healing for themselves or a
friend or family member. Regardless, Jesus sees that they’re lost and feels
pity, empathy, compassion for them.
Have
you ever thought of God being moved by your plight, compassion welling up in
the divine heart because you are harried, tired, hurting, or lost? Have you
ever thought of God longing to give you rest, Sabbath, or desperately wanting
to give guidance and protection?
Thursday, July 5, 2018
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Sermon: Stange Priorities
Mark 5:21-43
Strange Priorities
James Sledge July
1, 2018
Jairus
was an important man, was well to do and influential. People cultivated
friendships with him and took him out to expensive dinners. He rode in a black
SUV, often accompanied by a security detail, and could always get a good table
in the best restaurant.
Some
of us know people like Jairus. All of us know who they are. When my wife and I
recently flew to Austin, a well-known politician was on the flight. When we
landed, all us regular passengers had to wait while she departed. I could look
out my window and see the motorcade parked under the wing. Jairus got that sort
of treatment.
The
woman with hemorrhages was not important. Her name didn’t matter, and Mark
doesn’t bother telling it to us. She was simply a nameless, faceless member of
one of those groups typically precede by “the.” The poor, the sick, the
uninsured, the homeless, the hungry, the foreigner, the prisoner.
We’re
less likely to know such folks. We know of them, but not typically as
individuals. They’re “that homeless guy who panhandles in such and such
intersection” or “that woman with her stuff in the shopping cart.” We don’t often cultivate
friendships with such people. More often we avoid eye contact or move away from
them. That’s what it was like for the unnamed woman in our gospel passage.
But
this woman had even more problems. Not only had she been sucked dry and
bankrupted by the health care system, but she also bore a horrible religious
stigma. Her constant menstrual bleeding made her ritually unclean. She couldn’t
enter the synagogue or attend public events. This had been going on for twelve
years, so even if people didn’t know her name, they knew to avoid her.
Jairus
and this woman live in completely different worlds. They could not be more
different, but the gospel writer weaves together their stories. Jairus comes
right up to Jesus. The great crowd is no barrier to him. People move out of his
way as he heads toward Jesus. Jairus is used to being treated with honor and
respect, but at this moment, he is a desperate man. His daughter is dying, but
he’s heard about this rabbi who can heal, and so he bows before Jesus. He begs.
No
one is surprised when Jesus goes with him, and the crowd parts and falls back
in behind as Jairus, his security detail, and Jesus head to the house.
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Not Partisan but Political
I should add that this admirer of my bumper sticker saw it in a church setting. Unfortunately I didn't have a chance to follow up with her and see if she liked because she thought it a nice counter-balance to the way some conservative Christians have intertwined faith and the Republican party. Or perhaps she liked it because she thinks God is more of a Democrat. But when the bumper sticker spoke its entire message, it proclaims a God belonging to no political party. God is non-partisan, but that does not mean God is not political. In fact, God is very political.
The laws that God gives in the Old Testament require a certain sort of community, one that cares for the poor, where landowners must leave part of their crop behind for the needy, and where land that the rich have acquired must be returned to the original owners every 50 years. All debts were to be canceled at the same time. Implementing such requirements was a political undertaking, and there is not a lot of evidence that Israel ever abided by all these rules. No doubt the rich and powerful objected.
When Jesus came, he stood firmly in the politics of God and the Old Testament prophets. He said he came to bring "good news to the poor... release to the captive... to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." The year of the Lord's favor is the year when property goes back to original owners and all debts are called off. No wonder Jesus scared the powers-that-be.
A lot of people wish "the church would stay out of politics," but doing so requires ignoring an awful lot that God/Jesus said. Relegating Jesus to a personal Savior concerned only with getting you to heaven requires ignoring huge portions of Jesus' teachings.
Jesus was political. Jesus did not get executed by Rome because he was meek and nice. He got executed because he was perceived as a threat. He proclaimed a Kingdom of God that put the poor and outcast first and the rich and powerful last. "Blessed are you who are poor for yours is the Kingdom of God... But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation." (Luke 6:20, 24)
The people who ran the current kingdom, the one headed by the Roman emperor, didn't like such talk. Neither did the wealthy leaders of Temple Judaism who had a good thing going with the Romans. But the poor, the regular folks who paid the exorbitant taxes, loved it. That scared Rome and the Jewish powers-that-be even more.
But while Jesus is political in the extreme, his methods did not look at all like others who wanted to shake up the system. No violent overthrow. No weapons. Instead he called his followers to operate out of an ethic of love. Jesus called out injustice. He condemned those who exploited the poor and weak and marginalized, but his political vision was to be enacted in strange ways, ways that loved and prayed for enemies. (Although Jesus did once get so upset by Temple vendors who were ripping off pilgrims that he ran them out of the place.)
Perhaps no one in recent US history has embodied Jesus' way of being political better than Martin Luther King, Jr. He pulled no punches in condemning the politics of segregation that dehumanized African Americans while reserving the riches and benefits of America for whites. MLK terrified the powerful in much of America, but not because of weapons or violence.
I wonder if American Christianity can ever recover a faith that is political in the manner of Jesus or MLK. I think Jesus and MLK could act as they did, being very political but not engaging in hatred or violence, because they trusted that God was part of their cause. The assurance that God was engaged in the struggle meant that outcomes were not entirely up to them. They could struggle and suffer because they knew, as Dr. King said, that "the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." It so bends because God is a God of justice, and justice always involves politics.
As someone who sees much happening in our country right now that goes against God's care for the poor, the vulnerable, the immigrant, it is easy to despair. Such despair often turns to frustration and anger, and I rarely act in ways that are helpful when my anger burns hot.
But if God is indeed a God of politics, a God who will not long remain on the sidelines as the poor and vulnerable cry out, then my despair and anger can be tempered by hope. I can argue and agitate for the politics of God with resorting to self-destructive behaviors driven by anger and despair. But oh do I wish that the arc would bend a little more speedily. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
Sunday, June 24, 2018
Sermon: Faith and Daring Speech
Mark 4:35-41
Faith and Daring Speech
James Sledge June
24, 2008
I
imagine that many of you have heard some version of this story before. Matthew,
Mark, and Luke all tell of Jesus stilling the storm. I’m partial to Mark’s
version. Somewhat atypically for the shortest gospel, Mark has the longest and
fullest depiction.
Jesus
directs the disciples to cross the Sea of Galilee at night, not necessarily a
great idea. But the disciples do as Jesus says, apparently without question or
objection. But out on the water, in the dark, a terrific storm arises. It whips
up waves that begin to break over the sides of the boat. The disciples are no
doubt bailing water out as fast as they can, but it is a losing battle. The
boat is being swamped.
Meanwhile,
Jesus is asleep. He has been teaching and healing at a breakneck pace, and the
crowds won’t leave him alone. Perhaps he is so exhausted that he could sleep
through anything. But as the situation grows more and more dire, the disciples
wake him up.
I
don’t know if they expect Jesus to do anything or not. Maybe they just feel
like he should be worried and frightened, too. They are all about to drown,
after all. But Jesus rebukes the wind and tells the sea to quiet down, and all
is calm.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought
them out from their distress; he made the storm be still, and the waves of the
sea were hushed. That’s
from Psalm 107, and it’s speaking about God.
“Who then is this, that even the wind
and the sea obey him?” the disciples ask, as they quake in awe and fear.
______________________________________________________________________________
The
story of Jesus stilling the storm shows up every three years in the lectionary,
paired with the story of David and Goliath. Typically I’ve seen it focusing on
two things. One is Jesus’ identity, and the other is faith. Here faith is about
more than believing in God or Jesus. It is about trusting in the power of God
to save, the sort of trust that allows the boy David to face the mighty warrior
Goliath with only his sling.
But
for some reason that didn’t quite work for me this time, at least not the faith
part. Jesus accuses the disciples of having no faith. But they have turned to
Jesus in their distress. They cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought
them out…” to quote the psalm. Does being afraid mean having no faith?
That’s troubling. I’ve got fears a plenty.
If the disciples had come to Jesus cool as cucumbers and said, “Hey Jesus, would you mind fixing this?” would
Jesus had done the same miracle but not chastised them about their faith? Or is
the faith problem about something else.
______________________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Statement from the Session of Falls Church Presbyterian
The Falls Church Presbyterian Church (FCPC) rejects the claim that the Christian faith or the Bible excuses or condones government policies that forcibly separate children and their parents, or otherwise dehumanize refugees and immigrants. We reject any practice, policy, or law that denies God's beloved children their dignity. We oppose all attempts by the powerful to justify oppression or mistreatment of the powerless. We follow Jesus, who teaches that faithfulness is better measured by the loving care we provide to strangers, foreigners, and prisoners than by public proclamations of piety--and so we at FCPC rededicate ourselves to ways we can provide direct support and care to those in need.
Monday, June 11, 2018
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Sermon: Crazy Like Jesus
Mark 3:19b-35
Crazy Like Jesus
James Sledge June
10, 2018
I’m
going to go out on a limb here and say that most of you don’t spend a lot of
time worrying about Satan or the power of demons. In fact, many progressive
Christians, including pastors such as myself, are a little unnerved, even
embarrassed, by biblical talk of Satan and demonic possession. Clearly this comes
from ancient peoples who weren’t sophisticated enough to understand things like
mental illness or epilepsy.
But
sometimes I wonder if our “sophistication” isn’t actually an arrogance that
does not serve us well. We sometimes imagine that there’s no evil, only
problems to be solved. At some point progress and advancement will inexorably
lead to a better and better world.
At
the dawn of the 20th century, many believed progress would soon do
away with war in a unified Christian earth, only to witness one world war
followed shortly by another. Imagine the despair of those who thought humanity
was about to achieve world peace but instead saw millions and millions slaughtered
in battle, killed by bombs raining down on civilian populations, and exterminated
in the Holocaust.
Mainline
and progressive Christians often fall captive to despair these days. I know I
do. Granted we do not face world war or Holocaust, but things we hoped for and
counted on have failed us. Our heralded democracy seems to have welcomed
racism, xenophobia, hatred, and outright lying as accepted parts of the
process. Christianity itself is too often a tool of hatred, bigotry, and the
acquisition of power at any cost.
I
wonder if we sophisticated moderns don’t need to take the problem of evil more
seriously, even if we do not personify it. How else to explain school children
slaughtering classmates with easily obtained weapons of war? Or followers of
Jesus cheering war, spewing hate for those different from them, embracing lies,
immorality, and disdain for the least of these, in the pursuit of power?
How else to explain many of us swallowing
consumerism’s big lie that if we only acquire enough, if we only get more, we’ll
be truly happy? How else to explain turning childhood into a high-stress,
cut-throat competition where children must outduel others to get ahead, and we
are willing to sacrifice children with fewer advantages for the sake of our own?
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Sermon: Jesus and New Coke
John 3:1-17
Jesus and New Coke
James Sledge May
27, 2018 - Trinity Sunday
When
you make a decision, what sort of process to you follow? The decision could be
about what kind of car to buy, what movie to watch, where to go to school, whether
to make a career change, or how to vote. Obviously some decisions require more
careful deliberation, and others we can make on a whim. But what steps do you
follow if the decision is important? How do you know you’ve made the right one?
People
in this area and in this congregation are often highly educated. Presumably
that makes more resources available to us in decision making. We’re educated to
be rational, to use reason, to employ science, and so on. You would expect such
things to give us some advantages in making good decisions.
Nicodemus
is a well educated man, trained in Torah and in the ways of God. People would
have gone to him to get expert advice on matters of scripture and the Law. His
opinions would have carried some weight for those wrestling with a religious
decision.
Nicodemus
is intrigued with Jesus. As a religious expert, it’s obvious to him that Jesus
has a connection to God, and he so he goes to see Jesus in order to learn more.
Presumably he wants to make a decision about Jesus. Yes, the power of God is
clearly with him, but what exactly does that mean. But when Nick goes to talk
with Jesus, he goes at night.
In
John’s gospel, light and darkness are terms loaded with theological symbolism.
Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness, the light no darkness can
overcome. For some reason, Nicodemus visits at night, in the darkness. Not a
good sign.
Sure
enough, Nicodemus struggles to understand Jesus. Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, no one
can see the kingdom of God without being born from above/again.” There’s not a comparable English word
that carries both these meanings so it’s hard for us to join in Nick’s
confusion, to hear something different from what Jesus intends. We have to
translate it one way or the other, either “from above,” or “again.”
Still, it should not have been that hard
for Nick to get it. “From above,” is the more typical meaning, and even if Nick
mistakenly went with the more literal meaning initially, the correct meaning
should have become clear when Jesus tries to clarify things, speaking of being
born of the Spirit. But Nicodemus remains stupefied.
Sunday, May 20, 2018
Sermon: Any Life Here?
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Any Life Here?
James Sledge Pentecost, May 20, 2018
The scene is a
battlefield where one army had annihilated another. The defeat has been so
total, there were either no survivors, or all those who lived had been taken
prisoner. No one left to care for the dying; no one to bury the dead. All who
fell on the battlefield remained there, scavengers and nature gradually doing
their work. When only bones were left, they baked in the sun, drying and
bleaching as months turned to years.
As Ezekiel gazes on
this desolate scene, God speaks. “Mortal, can these bones live?” What a ridiculous question. The
situation is beyond hopeless. There is nothing here to be resuscitated. There’s
nothing left but bones strewn and scattered about, like puzzle pieces that have
been shaken up and then thrown all over the floor.
As far as the prophet
can tell, it’s an impossible situation. There is no way. But the prophet has
been surprised by the strange ways of God before, and so he throws the question
back. “O Lord God, you know.”
Sure enough, God
provides the answer by giving the prophet instructions. “Prophesy to these bones, and say to
them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.”
The prophet does as
he’s told, and the bones began to reassemble and take on muscles and skin. Then
there is a movement of wind/breath/Spirit, and the reassembled, fleshed out
bones come to life.
Some Christians have
tried to make this vision about resurrection and eternal life, but that’s not what
God says it’s about. “Mortal,
these bones are the whole house of Israel.” Israel may lost all hope, yet God will restore them. God
still has plans for them.
Israel and the
prophet are in Babylon, exiled from Jerusalem, which now lies in ruins,
Solomon’s great temple nothing but rubble. The walls of David’s great city have
been torn down. God’s promise of a house and kingdom that would last forever,
of descendants who would always sit on the throne of David, has apparently been
revoked.
In exile, Israel’s theologians and faith leaders
struggle to make sense of things. What does it mean to be God’s chosen people
when God has allowed them to be utterly defeated and carried into exile? Has
Israel’s failure to keep covenant brought it all to an end? Is there any going back? It is a time of crisis, a faith crisis,
an existential crisis. Is there any future for Israel? Or is she just a failed
experiment, a washed up relic that belongs to another time?
Monday, May 7, 2018
Sunday, April 29, 2018
Sermon: Not Hindering God
Acts 8:26-40
Not Hindering God
James Sledge April
29, 2018
Gathering those
who fear they’re not enough, so we may experience grace, renewal, and wholeness
as God’s beloved. This
new “missional mandate,” that has been printed in our bulletins for about two
months now, was developed by Session through a long process that began with
last year’s Renew Groups.
Session
took the feedback from these groups and created synopsis of what we heard. It
spoke of a culture that tells us to be more productive, more athletic, more
studious, etc. It spoke of people feeling stressed, tired, and harried. It
suggested that we needed to remind ourselves of what we already know. God loves
us just as we are.
The
synopsis then wondered what this might mean, suggesting, “Perhaps we are called
to be a church for recovering perfectionists, of Sabbath keepers. A place where
we can rest, where we are enough, where we are fully known, where we are wholly
and completely loved by God, and where we can experience true joy.”
Last
summer, we presented this synopsis to the congregation, with listening sessions
after worship for people to tell us their thoughts, to let us know if we had
heard the feedback from the Renew Groups
correctly. Overwhelmingly, the answer was “Yes.”
With
the synopsis confirmed, Session held a Friday evening, Saturday retreat where we
joined in fellowship, worship, and work on a missional mandate. We listened for
the Spirit, and over time, the mandate emerged, Gathering those who fear they’re not enough, so we may experience
grace, renewal, and wholeness as God’s beloved.
I
mentioned in the sermon a couple of weeks ago that further work by Session has
identified several strategy areas where we hope to live into this new mandate,
areas with much deeper meaning than their shorthand titles indicate: Gather, Deepen, Share.
It has taken a great deal of work to get
us to this point, but the most difficult work is just beginning. We must figure
out how to live out our mandate. What sorts of programs and ministries will
help us Gather, Deepen, and Share? No
doubt some current activities will, but we will also need new ministries and methods.
And that inevitably will require letting go of some old ones. We can’t become
something new doing exactly what we are doing now.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Sermon: Hearing the Shepherd
John 10:11-18
Hearing the Shepherd
James Sledge April
22, 2018
Every
now and then, someone from another congregation calls the church office to ask
about leasing space for their worship service. Most of these requests have been
immigrant faith communities who are just starting out or have outgrown the
space they are renting.
Obviously
there are logistical challenges to having two different congregations in one church
building, and so when we get such a request our Worship Committee and our
Building and Grounds Committee look at the particulars and make a
recommendation to the Session. Clearly we’ve never managed to work out the
details to everyone’s satisfaction during my time as pastor here as we’ve not
had another congregation on site since the Episcopalians left nearly six years
ago.
But
assuming that we were able to work out the logistics and come up with a rental
agreement that suits us and the other congregation, we would still have one
more hurdle to clear. Any lease of our worship space requires the approval of
National Capital Presbytery.
In
our denomination, individual churches hold their property “in trust” for the
denomination. It belongs to us only so long as we are operating a Presbyterian
congregation here. If a church closes, the members can’t just sell the
property and split the proceeds. That property goes to the denomination.
And
so the denomination has a vested interest in making sure its congregations
don’t take out risky loans, don’t end up with a lien on the property, or get
into a lease that might tie the congregation’s hands at some point in the
future.
Along
with these mostly financial concerns, the presbytery also “reserves the right
to disapprove a lease to any organization (including a church) if it or its
parent body (1) actively disparages the Presbyterian Church (USA), (2) denies
that the PC(USA) is a branch of the true church of Jesus Christ, and/or (3)
engages in activities or promotes values that are antithetical to those of the
PC(USA).”[1]
I
wonder exactly what that last one means. Would we not rent space to a church
that doesn’t ordain women? How about LGBT folk? Should we be concerned about
where they stand on same sex marriage? What sort of values must they have to
rent space here?
Such
questions make me wonder about what makes a church truly a church? Where are
the boundaries? What is it that gives a church its identity? If you moved to
another city and were looking for a church, what would you want to know? What
would put a church on your list to visit, and what would keep it off?
It
turns out that it’s difficult, even impossible, to do church in a generic sort
of way. If worship is going to be an important part of your church, you have to
decide what that worship will look like, what sort of music to use, if you plan
to use music. You must decide what sources of insight are most important. If
there is a big theological controversy, what has the final say? We
Presbyterians speak of scripture as the ultimate authority, but Catholics put
church teachings on a par with scripture.
Because
it’s so hard to be a generic church, because you pretty much have to be some
particular kind of church, there are all sorts of modifiers people use to
describe their church. I belong to a progressive church. I belong to an
evangelical church. We’re a contemporary worship church. I go to a
non-denominational mega-church. We do “high church.” And the list goes on and
on.
Amidst
all these different sorts of church, it may be interesting to stop and think
about what it is that most defines us. Is it that we are a church of Jesus
Christ, or that we are progressive, liberal, evangelical and so on?
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Sermon: Enfleshed Faith
Luke 24:36b-49
Enfleshed Faith
James Sledge April
15, 2018
This
is the third and final appearance of the risen Jesus in Luke’s gospel. He
appeared to disciples on the road to Emmaus, though unrecognized until they
stopped for the evening and Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it.
These disciples hurry back to Jerusalem to tell the others. There they learn
that Jesus had also appeared to Simon Peter. As they tell how Jesus was made
known to them in the breaking of the bread, Jesus shows up one more
time.
Even
though Jesus appears for a third time, his followers still have trouble
believing it. They fear it is a spirit, a ghost. And so Jesus says, “Touch
me.” And he asks, “Have you anything here to eat?”
prompting the disciples to give him a bit of fish. Jesus has some important
things to say, but first he eats.
Something
similar happens at the end of John’s gospel when the risen Jesus appears on the
shore as some of the disciples are out in a boat, fishing. There will be an
exchange between Jesus and Peter that seems to remove any taint from Peter’s
denials on the night of Jesus’ arrest. But before the story can get to that,
Jesus cooks some of the fish the disciples have caught, and they have a nice
breakfast there on the shore. Jesus has important things to say, but first we
eat.
Both
Luke and John want to make clear the Jesus is not a wispy spirit, not a
disembodied ghost. He is fully embodied, and he easts. This is the biblical
notion of resurrection, a bodily thing, not a soul floating off to heaven but a
walking, breathing, eating Jesus. In his letter to the church in Corinth, the
Apostle Paul insists that humans will experience a bodily resurrection as well,
at the end of the age. We’ll be different, he says, but we’ll have bodies.
In
the same letter Paul writes, Now you are the body of Christ and
individually members of it. But in the centuries since Paul first wrote
this, calling church the body of Christ
has become so commonplace that we may not think much about what that means.
Bodies
are pretty much essential to doing many of the things that make us human. We
can touch someone, embrace them and cry with them when they are experiencing
loss or trauma, because we have bodies. A parent can cradle an infant, speaking
in reassuring tones, because we are embodied creatures. We can sit down with a
friend for a meal or drinks because we have bodies. We can prepare food and
feed people who are hungry at our Welcome Table ministry because we are
embodied creatures.
When Jesus walked the earth, he touched
people and healed them. He fed hungry crowds. He ate meals with people
considered to be outcasts and “unclean.” He suffered and he died, all because
he was God’s love embodied, God incarnate. And he calls us to continue that
work of embodying God’s love.
Monday, April 2, 2018
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