Psalm 14
David A. Davis
October 18, 2020

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“Fools say in their hearts, ‘there is no God.’” “Fools say in their hearts”.  “Fools”.  It is easier to distance yourself from someone when you call them a fool. It is a pretty easy way to turn people into “a them and not an us”. You call them fools. In the language of today, we might say that labeling someone a fool is means of “othering” them. You are not someone with a name and face, you are just a fool. Perhaps more than keeping them at arm’s length, calling someone a fool is a means to minimize their thought, their position, their politics, their actions, their destructiveness. Only a fool would say there is no God. That’s ridiculous. I would never say that. “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector” (Luke 18:11). And I certainly thank you Lord that I am not like the fool who says there is no God.

Our small groups studying the Psalms this season are reading Pat Miller’s book The Lord of the Psalms. The book is the print edition of Dr. Miller’s Stone Lectures which he delivered at Princeton Seminary in 2010. Early in the book Miller points out that when the psalmist includes a quote attributed to someone else, as in the case of the fools in Psalm 14, that often such quotes of the wicked or the foolish are a way of “indirectly expressing the conclusions of the psalmist”. Its sort of like asking a question and saying “I’m just asking for a friend” when you are really asking for yourself.

From that perspective, then, the psalmist isn’t trying to distance from the fool at all. Quite the opposite of the Pharisee’s approach in Luke that I just quoted, the psalmist is actually sharing the fool’s perspective or echoing the fool’s conclusion. The fool and the psalmist looking at the corruption, the abominable deeds, the devouring of God’s people, the humiliation of and the preying on the poor and saying in the heart, “there is no God.”  Looking around at the state of the world, the chaos and reality of humanity’s sin and wondering where the dickens God really is. The fool and the psalmist are in good company when it comes to the assessment of all the corruption and destructive behavior. As the psalmist writes, “The Lord looks down from heaven on humankind to see if there are any who are wise, who seek after God…no one does good, no, not one.”  The fool, the psalmist, and God all agreeing on the absolute mess of humankind: the corruption, the abominable deeds, the devouring of God’s people, the humiliation of and the preying on the poor.

“Fools say in their hearts. ‘there is no God.’” “Fools say in their hearts.” “Say in their hearts”.  Saying something in the heart seems to be a bit of an odd expression. You say something your head maybe and you feel something in your heart. I remember hearing one of my preaching mentors, Peter Gomes, use the expression “thinking hearts and loving minds” on more than one occasion. Intentionally switching the pairings of loving hearts and thinking minds to make a point mostly to graduating college students. Head out into the world with a compassionate mind and a discerning heart. “Fools say in their hearts”. That sounds like the psalmist making a similar kind of switch to make a point. The distinction here is that the fool is not making an argument for the mind. It is not an intellectual, philosophical shot across the bow in a debate about the existence of God. No. To say there is no God in your heart is more of a gut level, soul crying lament about the absence of God when surrounded by human suffering. The imagined setting for Psalm 14 is not a classroom or late night dorm room existential debate. It would be more like a waiting room, or a massively overcrowded prison, or an ICU with no beds left. Where are you God, really? God, where?!

The psalmist on the absence of God rather than the existence of God. The psalmist, through the voice of the fool, questioning the absence of God. The absence of God rather than the existence of God brings Psalm 14 closer to home. It brings biblical lament closer to home. Over the years pastors like me, we have our share of conversations about the existence of God; usually after Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens published a new book. And yes, there are those occasions outside of church life where another guest at a dinner party tries to play “let’s bait the religious professional into an argument about God.” Yes those conversations happen once in a while. But I long ago lost count, there is no way I could have counted, I can’t begin to describe to you how many conversations I have had with individuals who, in a particular season of life, were asking somewhere way deep down inside about the absence of God. The psalmist, the fool, you and me. Are you here God? God, can you hear me? Because sometimes, at some point, every now and then, maybe right, now in our hearts, we’re not so sure.

Hope for the psalmist here in Psalm 14 comes in the promise that God will restore the fortunes of God’s people, that deliverance will come. God’s people will rejoice and God’s people will be glad. As God heard the people’s cry, as God delivered God’s people before, as God liberated God’s people at the Exodus, God will surely hear, deliver, save God’s people again. The psalmist view of salvation is collective one, a corporate one. It is a promise about life together itself. That when it comes to the absolute mess of humankind: the corruption, the abominable deeds, the devouring of God’s people, the humiliation of and the preying on the poor. God is going to do something about all of it. The psalm starts with the fool and ends with a nod to Isaiah’s peaceable kingdom. The psalm begins with the abundance of human suffering and ends with joy and gladness in the land. The psalm begins with lament and ends with “a kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven” kind of proclamation.

But before that last verse of Psalm 14, before the last line of the song, there is a response to the perceived absence of God that ought not be missed. “God is with the company of the righteous. You would confound, step on, shame the plans of the poor, but the Lord is their refuge.” God is with those who crave righteousness, work for justice, love kindness. God is with them. And as for the poor God is their refuge. Their shelter. Their dwelling place. The psalm begins with fool and the absence of God but makes a not so subtle turn toward an affirmation of the words of Jesus in Matthew 25, “as much as you have done it to least of these, you have done it to me.” If you want to find God, if you want to see God? According to the psalmist you have to look to those who are beat down and kept down by corrupt systems of abusive power. You have to see the faces of those on the wrong side of the abominable deeds of the high and mighty. You have to ponder God’s people being devoured in the feast of selfishness, greed, and violence. The Lord our God, our Emmanuel is with….them. God is…there. “Fools say in their hearts ‘there is no God’”.  But may it’s just that over and over and over again, so many who have so much, so many who seem to sure, so many people of faith, so many who want to follow Jesus, they (we) forget where to look.

And yes the promise and presence of God with us, the hope of the psalmist, is not just for the suffering of others. The promise and presence we have in Jesus Christ, our balm of Gilead, is not simply to sooth the pain and hurt of others. The promise and presence of God that we know in Jesus Christ is not limited to comfort amid any perceived absence of God amid the chaos of the land, The very promise and presence of God in Jesus Christ, the Great Shepherd of the sheep, is for you amid those seasons of pondering, wondering, asking, shouting, experiencing the very absence of God.

When the congregation celebrated my 20^th anniversary as your pastor last month so very many people contributed to the memory book that was presented to me in worship that day. Thank you so very much for that gift. I have looked at it a lot. I’ve thought about it even more. Over and over again people wrote about things like “you were there when…”. Weddings, baptisms, mission trips, and yes, a lot of grief and loss. For you and for me. The pages of the memory book gave me was gift of an exclamation point on God’s call in my life to pastoral ministry. Then what hit me like a done of bricks, was how much of that “you were there when” part of church life we have not been able to do together the last now almost 8 months. Even more, when I reflect back on those conversations I mentioned earlier, a multitude of conversations that no one can number wondering about, asking about, experiencing the absence of God in hard seasons of life and of death, I realize now in looking back on those holy conversations and times of prayer about the absence of God, the silence of God, the unanswered prayer, that when huddled together in the face of the very real felt absence God,  there was there is this palpable, powerful, very real sense, feeling, of the presence of God.

It wasn’t just a memory book. It was a gift of God with the affirmation that the Lord is still our and shall forever be our refuge. Fools, you and me, and the refuge of God.

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Philippians 4:1-9 [i]
Lauren J. McFeaters
October 11, 2020

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If ever a church needs prayer, it’s the Church of the Philippians.

You see two church leaders, Euodia and Syntyche, are in crisis. Their friendship needs an intervention. We don’t know the substance of the quarrel between these two women, but whatever it is, it’s severe, harsh, and bitter.^[ii]

We know the church is fractured by distress and anxiety. We know the times are ominous and frightening. The Romans are bearing down, and Christians are swept into prisons to rot, and shoved into Coliseums to be slaughtered.

Paul himself writes this letter under extreme conditions. He’s in jail awaiting trial. The outcome is his death. So, when he hears his Companions in Christ; his best of friends in the Book of Life, are hostile and antagonistic, he is zealous for things to be set aright.

Because you know, and I know, and Paul knows, that left untreated – quarrels and resentment can lead to years of hostility. The Christian family does not have that kind of time to waste. Fervent prayer is needed.

In the Jewish tradition, there is a stunning array of prayer – for  every moment and situation in life. It’s glorious.

• There are prayers for the moment you open your eyes in the morning, until you are falling asleep at night.
• Prayers for every minute of meal preparation, education, work, raising a family.
• Prayers for the senses: for sights, tastes, sounds, and smells.
• The Kaddish Prayer for the Bereaved:

Exalted and hallowed be God’s great name,

in the world which God created, according to plan.

May God’s majesty be revealed in the days of our lifetime. [iii]

• Prayers for Healing:

May the Blessed Holy One be filled with compassion for health to be restored and strength to be revived. May God swiftly send a complete renewal of body and spirit.

• Prayers for the Traveler:

When we feel weak, teach us, we are strong.

When we are shattered, assure us of healing.

When we do not get along, renew our spirits.

When we are lost amongst ourselves, show us that you are near.

• And in that tradition, Paul’s Prayer for the Philippians:

May your forbearance be known to everyone.

Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Paul reaches into his soul and begins to pray his church into health. He’s sending a remedy not just for the mending, and bandaging, and stitching up of individual friendships, but for the binding, and suturing of relationships within a group of holy friends.

Throughout the entire letter, Paul emphasizes a cure for the mending of the church. The cure is:

• Friendship and forgiveness;
• A constant give-and-take from both sides;
• A mutual caring; a loving generosity,
• and most of all – wait for it – that long-lost and old-fashioned word – Forbearance.

Forbearance.

If you asked for words that describe the healing of friendships, I highly doubt Forbearance would make the Top-10.

Forbearance? What is it?

• Well it’s patience, gentleness, and mercy. Forbearance.
• It’s self-control and moderation. Forbearance.
• It’s acceptance and leniency. Forbearance.
• It happens when friends walk through the muck of life and accept the beauty and the dread of one another.[iv]

Without forbearance:

• The community of faith bends in on itself.
• Comments are muttered under the breath; not to take sides, but out of “Christian” concern.
• Up go the walls. Down go the empathy.
• Up go the defenses. Down goes the tenderness.
• “It doesn’t surprise me at all that she’s acting this way. It’s so…typical.”
• “Well if he’s going to decide to show up; I’ll just leave.”
• “No wonder they’re so lonely, all they do is gripe and complain.”
• Or no comments are given at all. Instead of the right hand of friendship, what’s given is the cold shoulder of self-righteousness.
• Without Forbearance of one another, we become The Church of Eh, The Church of Blah, The Church of Whatever.

Without Forbearance, we become more of what our society becomes:

• where disparagement is a profession,
• and mockery a pastime,
• and ridicule is lifted as an aptitude.

In our lives, where reality is known as Cat Fish, 90-Day Fiancé, and Hell’s Kitchen – and Twitter is used as a weapon of mass destruction – and abuse and mistreatment becomes Best-See 5-star entertainment, Christ Jesus is our Forbearance and our Mercy.

Beverly Harrison puts it like this:

Our world is on the verge of self-destruction because we have so deeply neglected that which is most human and most valuable and most basic:

the work of human caring and nurturance,

of tending the personal bonds of community.

Because in the larger scheme of things it’s too insignificant, too mundane, too plain.

We know the work of love is gentle and powerful. Because in the end, what our Lord calls us to do, is to build up the personhood of one another.^[v] That’s the church.

• And when we finally sit down at our kitchen table to write that note of encouragement to someone who’s been on our hearts;
• When we make that step-in humility toward someone we’ve hurt or betrayed, and we ask for forgiveness;
• When we stop our endless talking to listen to what our elderly parent has been trying to tell us and we just didn’t want to hear:
• Then our lives, like the Philippians, is experienced in forbearance, mercy, and goodness.

Amid our anxieties of this pandemic, our future, our worries over human rights, our families, and country – our Lord calls us to see our names in the Book of Life; not as disconnected lines on a ledger; but beside one another, interconnected members of the household of God.

And what is the household of God Nassau Presbyterian Church?

Well, whatever is true, whatever honorable,

whatever is just, whatever is pure,

whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable,

if there is any excellence,

and if there is anything worthy of praise,

think about these things.

 

 

ENDNOTES

[i]  Philippians 4:1-9; NRSV: Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life. Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I will say, Rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

[ii] Fred B. Craddock. Philippians, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1985, 69.

[iii] My thanks to Brain D. Philipps, a holy friend, for leading me to the rich traditions of Jewish prayer and especially the Mourner’s Kaddish.

[iv] Christi O. Brown. “Holy Friendships.” Duke Divinity School, faithandleadership.com, December 1, 2014.

[v] Beverly Wilding Harrison. Making the Connections: Essays in Feminist Social Ethics. Boston:  Beacon Press, 1985, 12.

 

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Philippians 1:1-16
David A. Davis
October 4, 2020

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At the conclusion of worship last week, after Michael finished the prelude and the livestream broadcast was finished, the few of us in the room started to work to rearrange the chancel for the livestream interview with Jim McCloskey that was to begin in just a few minutes. It is very odd for me to not walk down the aisle after the benediction and head to the front door and wait for you to come out. So I went to the office, dropped off my robe, and came right back in here. At that point one of the five people in the sanctuary said something to me that I have heard over and over and over at the church door through the years. “Dave, it felt like you were preaching just to me this morning!” Now, usually when I someone says that they are referring to something in the content of the sermon that touched their heart or was spot on timely for their soul. My response is usually to say something about the work of the Holy Spirit. Of course, last Sunday, it was said more in a joking way. It allowed all of us to sigh a bit about the strange experience of being the only few in the room. The pews are empty but I don’t need the cut out photographs or virtual screen shots of faces like they are using at sporting events. I see you faces because I know where you sit in here!

“Preaching just to me.” More than a few people have written to me over these months who, while saying it differently, have described the surprising intimacy of virtual worship. Folks have sent screen shots of me preaching in their home. Some of the shots of me on your larger screens are a bit unsettling. Others have told of how meaningful it is to hear and experience the word just between the preacher and you. Everyone knows exactly what we have been missing. For me to name all of that makes us it even more. But worship paired down, worship in your home, worship “unplugged”, worship just me, just us and you? Some, of course not all, but some, have found an unexpected intimacy too it.

In the third chapter of Philippians, the Apostle Paul describes his encounter, his relationship, his longing for Christ with language that connotes a kind of intimacy. All of his accomplishments, his power, his privilege, his status he regards as nothing when compared to his life in Christ. Nothing when compared to what Paul describes in Romans as “putting on Christ”. Everything else, when compared to life in Christ is “rubbish”. The word in Greek is stronger than that. The King James translates the word as “dung”. So we will just leave it there. The rest of life falls away, for Paul, as he is drawn into Christ. “I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ….I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection….I press on because Christ Jesus has made me his own…I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call in Christ Jesus.” Paul and his intimate relationship with Christ Jesus. Intimate is not too strong of a word.

In the sermon last week I described the Epistle to the Philippians as Paul writing to congregation that was experiencing persecution to them and opposition to the gospel itself. A congregation trying to be the church of Jesus Christ in a world that was pretty much antithetical to everything he taught. Here in the third chapter, arguably the very core of the letter, Paul urges the Christians in Philippi amid all the chaos to draw near, to refocus, to cling to Christ himself. For some, Paul describing his intimate relationship with Christ Jesus is interpreted as another example of his self-centered, look at me, style of writing. But one could hold to the interpretation that Paul is pleading with the followers of Jesus to realize the importance and the essence of life in Christ, especially in turbulent times.

“Only let us hold fast to what we have attained, Paul writes. “Hold fast to what we have attained.” “Hold fast”. Most translations, most commentators, most preachers take this “holding fast” in the direction of a plea to continuing to live the life of discipleship. An exhortation to the community of faith to live up to the expectations for the Body of Christ. Paul’s call for the Philippians to live in a manner consistent with the gospel of Christ received and passed on. But I hear it a bit differently these days. “Hold fast”. In the head and heart spinning days we are experiencing, these words of Paul are less about a clarion call to keep the faith and more a gracious, love-filled invitation to cling to Jesus Christ and him alone. Hold fast to Christ because he has made you his own. Hold fast to the prize of the heavenly call in Jesus Christ. Hold fast to him who forever holds fast to you.

The Book of Revelation includes seven letters to churches. Perhaps one could describe them as letters to the church living in apocalyptic times. The letter to the church in Ephesus includes the indictment that the church had “abandoned the love you had at first.” (Rev 2:4) Or as the King James puts it, “you have forgotten your first love.” Yes, it is an exhortation for the church to turn back to a Christ centered life of faithful discipleship where their works of love can be a light to the world. But that first love, that love they had a first, is their love for Christ. Two of the seven letters to the churches in the Revelation to John include these words, “hold fast to what you have.” (Rev 2:25, 3:11) Hold fast. Hold on. Hold tight the love you had a first. Your love for the one who first loved us.

I spent three days in a virtual meeting this week with national committee of the Presbyterian Church (USA). I have been elected and now serve on the Committee on the Office of the General Assembly. At the beginning of each of the sessions, the members and staff took turns sharing memories and stories of their baptisms. Many, like me, were baptized as infants and so any sharing was dependent on pictures, certificates, and family stories. But a surprising number of folks were not born into the Presbyterian Church and therefore could give a first person account. Several told of their baptism by immersion. One man told of his baptism in the rural south in a Baptist church at the age of 11 or 12. Noting that no one back then in his town was taught how to swim, there was a genuine fear and a real need for trust when the pastor held his nose, and dropped him back in the water of the baptistry. “I will never forget that physical sensation of dying to sin and rising to new life in Christ.”

I learned a long time ago that one of the theological themes of baptism is dying and rising to Christ. I have also preached and taught that the action of baptism by immersion emphasizes dying and rising while the action of infant baptism highlights the grace of God that pours out on us as we can do nothing to ask for it or deserve it. But I realized last week that I had never heard a first-person account from someone immersed at baptism; especially one for whom that action had lasting impact on his relationship with Jesus Christ.

Like baptism, our celebration of the Lord’s Supper has several theological fenceposts, several themes, a cloud of meaning. When we gather at this Table at any particular time, one of those themes can come to the fore. The easiest to mention is a Holy Thursday communion service when the sacramental actions all point to remembering Jesus’ suffering and death. Perhaps a Lenten small group or home communion celebration is an action that highlights the Table fellowship of the holy meal shared together as children of God. One could lift up that same theme at a service here in the sanctuary as we sing together while the elements are shared. “Let us break bread together on our knees, on our knees.” If a soloist was singing “Spirit of the Living God, fall a fresh on me”, a person feasting on bread or drinking the cup could find themselves reminded of how the Holy Spirit falls on us in the taking, and the breaking, and the passing, and the sharing.

In just a moment, we will share in a communion meal so different from how we have experienced it for pretty much our entire faith journey. Well, at least until Holy Thursday last April. When the sacramental action is just me here and you there, you in your home, there is a theological theme that can shine forth in a way, maybe like neve before. Usually the word communion for Presbyterians connotes a meal we share with one other. But before this Table is communion with one another, it is communion with Christ, and him alone. And when I am here, and you are there, taste and see that Lord is good. That Christ is for you. That Jesus loves you. For this morning when we share this meal, we are bound by the Holy Spirit, but when you take and eat, this is my body broken for you, when you take the cup and sip of the new covenant for the forgiveness of sins, it is just you and him. An intimate meal for an intimate relationship.

Hold fast to that. Hold fast to him. When your head and your heart is spinning at the pace of all that keeps happening, hold fast. When you wake up in the middle of the night and worry keeps any more sleep away, hold fast. When your prayer list is too long for one sitting, take a deep breath and tell yourself to hold fast. When there is joy in the family to celebrate, but the celebration comes at distance, let that joy linger deep and help you to hold fast. When your spouse or your parent or a really good friend is in the hospital and a phone call or Facetime is all you have, hold fast. When a morning walk at the breaking of a cool day allows the changing season to remind you that the creation and the world and yes, even today, belong to God, hold fast. When any signs of Isaiah’s peaceable kingdom are nowhere in sight, hold fast. When you find yourself wondering where God is, or what God is up to, or whether God even seems to care about what feels so apocalyptic in the world, in our lives, hold fast. When you take and eat, when you take and drink, hold fast.

Because sometimes a communion meal is just you and him. And because sometimes, it feels like God’s love for you in Christ Jesus is all you have to hold onto.

Take, and eat. And my prayer for all you, is that you will never forget the physical sensation of a sacramental action of God’s unending, unconditional, sacrificial, heart filling, head calming love for you.

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Philippians 2:1-13
David A. Davis
September 27, 2020

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The opening hymn on our first Sunday of livestream worship a few weeks ago was “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!” We had four people here in the sanctuary that morning but only Marissa was singing the hymn. Michael was playing. Lauren and I were standing, with our masks on, singing in our head. You couldn’t tell that because Marissa had a microphone and Nick in the sound room turns our lapel mics off. But to be safe and follow protocol, we were only singing in our head. During the hymn I realized that it wasn’t the first time I sang “Holy Holy Holy” in my head. I can’t be the only one who every now and then finds themselves singing a hymn just in the head. Sure, sometimes singing out loud to oneself, humming to oneself. But sometimes just in your head. Like watching a sunrise and not wanting even your own voice to spoil the beauty. “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee.” Just in your head.

A parent singing a child to sleep with a hymn, the voice gets softer and softer until the last few lines, the last verse, the last part is just in the head. Making sure sleep is there to stay at least for a while. I have told you before I put my kids to sleep singing college fight songs. For Cathy it was the same hymn her mother sang to her when she was a child. “When He cometh, when He cometh To make up His jewels, All His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.” Quieter and quieter until at some point she was singing in her head.

On Sundays when the full adult choir is in up there in the loft, Carol Fagundus and I sometimes have an unspoken contest to see who can sing all the verses of a hymn without picking up the hymnbook. I assure you that when it comes to singing hymns by heart, Carol always wins. Singing a hymn in your head. Singing a hymn by heart. And here in Philippians, it is singing a hymn not by heart, but in your heart. Singing a hymn with your heart with your life. The Apostle Paul writing to the church in Philippi and exhorting them to sing a hymn in their hearts. To sing a particular hymn with their lives.

Most biblical scholars believe that the poetic language about Christ Jesus in the second chapter of Philippians is taken from an ancient, early Christian hymn. Some suggest that it was probably or possibly a familiar hymn among the earliest of Christians. I guess that would be like Paul quoting “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” or “Fairest Lord Jesus” to us. Paul quoting familiar hymn about Jesus “who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and become obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”

Paul is writing to a Christian community trying to live the gospel in the face of significant opposition and persecution. Acts 16 describes how Paul himself was thrown in prison along with Silas for healing and liberating a slave girl who made her owners money through fortune telling. As Luke puts it “when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities” (Acts 16:19).  There in prison, after midnight, Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns. An earthquake rattle the prison foundations and the doors were open and chains fell off. Eventually they were asked to leave Philippi. After miraculously being set free from prison during an earthquake, they are told to leave the city.

So the Philippians were trying to be the church in a town where gospel proclamation and gospel liberation had already been perceived by the authorities as a threat. People with the means and power a to make a living off the backs of others had already came to the conclusion that these followers of Jesus were going to take their money.  By the time Paul wrote them the Philippians were trying to figure out what it meant to be the church in a world where healing and liberating grace falling on the oppressed and the poor was already seen as some kind of threatening chaos unleashed. This wasn’t just a letter written to a congregation with some division and trying to get along. It was Paul writing to congregation that was experiencing persecution to them and opposition to the gospel itself. A congregation trying to be the church of Jesus Christ in a world that was pretty much antithetical to everything he taught.

As the second chapter of the letter begins, Paul is addressing the nitty gritty of community; the flesh and blood of their relationships one with another, Paul is exhorting the Philippian church to reclaim a community life that is marked by love, compassion, and sympathy. A life together that honors Christ Jesus and reflects his own humility and love. “…any encouragement in Christ…consolation from love…sharing in the Spirit…any compassion…sympathy…be of the same mind, the same love…in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interest, but to the interest of others.”

Then, as if to sum it up the community life he is trying to describe, to get to the epitome of life together he is pointing to, to underscore the only way really, for the Philippians to live in a community that puts others first and values humility, and priorities looking to others interest first, Paul writes maybe in capital letters,  “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” or also translated “let the same mind be in you that you have in Christ Jesus.” The same mind as Christ. The mind of Christ. Let the mind of Christ be in you.

At this point Paul can’t explain what that means. He doesn’t go on with an argument of why that is. He doesn’t try to describe how having the mind of Christ happens. No, he starts to sing. He starts to sing a song they all knew. He started a quote that the congregation could finish in their head. They could finish by heart. But, of course, just being able to finish the quote is so not the point.

After the hymn, with the familiar words still on the lips of those who helped him finish the song, Paul writes “Therefore, my beloved…carry out your salvation in fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for God’s good pleasure.”  God’s good pleasure. A humble, others first, life in a community of compassion, love, and looking to the interests of others gives pleasure to God. How you and I live our lives and specifically our life together in Christian community, indeed as the church  of Jesus Christ striving to live in world that is still antithetical to everything he did and everything e taught, this live together can give pleasure to God! Think about that! A faith community that puts the interests of others first, proclaims putting the interest of others first, advocates for putting the interests of others first, bears witness to putting the interest of others first, gives pleasure to God. That begs the question, doesn’t it?’ It begs the question of the heartache God amid the church’s tepid witness in a world, a nation, an economy, and a politic that is driven by putting the interests of no one else…. first.

Paul’s exhortation to the church of Jesus Christ isn’t to finish a quote or sing a hymn, it is a call, a plea, and invitation to sing the hymn in your heart, to live the hymn in your life. To live that hymn with the full assurance that God is at work in you and the nitty gritty, flesh and blood relationships in your life can give witness to the very mind of Christ who “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and become obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”

The synagogue massacre at Tree of Life in Pittsburgh was two years ago next month. The shootings occurred during Shabbat services on Saturday morning. After sundown here in Princeton, when Rabbi Feldman was able to talk by phone and use his devices, he and I decided to host a prayer service here in the sanctuary at Nassau Church the very next night. Our respective staffs sprung into action on social media. The Princeton Clergy Association joined in along with Coalition for Peace Action. Amazingly, by 7pm Sunday evening this room was overflowing with people. There were folks ushering and helping people find seats that I had never seen before. People were streaming into this building.

At one point during the service, the cantor from the Jewish Center offered a song of lament. It started as a solo, acapella voice. In a very moving way, other Jewish voices around the sanctuary joined in with him singing Hebrew in the prayer being sung. Then as folks who didn’t know the song or know Hebrew listened to repeating chorus, they joined in catching the tune and faking the Hebrew. The plaintiff sound just continued to build and to build. One song. One voice. Others joining in and singing along, praying along, lamenting along. It was a powerful, unforgettable witness of faith. I will never forget the Princeton community surrounding the broken-hearted Jesus community in song in this room that night.

One person starts to sing and others join in. Not just with song but with their lives. That’s the Apostle’s intent in Philippians, chapter two. That one person’s life of humility, compassion, love and selflessness would bring about a kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. As others join in that song, that movement, that discipleship not just in their heads, but with their lives. When you live in a world so antithetical to the gospel where the violence, the greed, the injustice, the bitterness, the bigotry, the selfishness not only never ceases, rather it builds like a hurricane force wind, at least one place to start, one thing to do, one prayer to ask, is for you and me, in our life together, that we would be congregation that by God’s grace and God’s spirit would be a faith community that puts the interests of others first, proclaims putting the interest of others first, advocates for putting the interests of others first, bears witness to putting the interest of others first,

Let’s start to sing Nassau Presbyterian Church, and see who else joins in.

God, I trust, good use a bit more good pleasure these days.

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Matthew 20:1-16
David A. Davis
September 20, 2020

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When it comes to “grumbling” in the gospels, as in “they grumbled against the landowner”, when it comes to “grumbling”, it is surprising how little “grumbling” there is in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. I am referring specifically to the word “grumble” and its variations in the Greek New Testament. Now, as I learned to say in sermons from this pulpit about 19 years, 11 months and three weeks ago, “If I did my biblical homework correctly”. The first time I preached on an Old Testament passage at Nassau Church I had an out of body experience while preaching and counted five Old Testament professors sitting out there in these pews. It is pretty much the same this morning with the New Testament scholars joining us in worship. That includes one who I am pretty sure read along with me in the Gospel of Matthew from the Greek New Testament while sitting there on the couch. So…. if I did my homework correctly, there is just not as much “grumbling in the gospels” as one would think.

I couldn’t find any grumbling in Mark at all. Maybe with Mark being so short, the gospel writer just couldn’t be bothered with “grumbling”. In John, the Jewish leaders “grumbled” in response to Jesus’s announcement that he was the bread of life. According to John, those leaders “began to complain about him because he said “I am the bread that came down from heaven.”  The word translated complain comes from the same word for grumble. Luke has the most “grumbling”. Early in Luke after Jesus called Levi right out of the tax booth to follow him, Levi gave a great banquet in honor of Jesus in his house. The Pharisees and scribes “were complaining to his disciples.” (Luke 5). Later, when the scribes and Pharisees saw all the tax collectors and sinners coming near to Jesus just to listen, they “were grumbling and saying ‘this fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’” (Luke 15) And you will remember in Luke 19 when Jesus yelled up to Zacchaeus and told him he had to stay at his house today that “all who saw it began to grumble.” That leaves Matthew. And the only “grumbling” in Matthew is here in the parable the tradition labels “the parable of the laborers in the vineyard.” When the all-day, day laborers realized they were being paid the same as the one hour day-laborer, “they grumbled against the landowner”,

Grumble. Grumble. Grumble. When you stop and think about it, it is surprising how little grumbling there is in the four gospels. And the word “grumble” itself in English seems a little understated. More fitting for those two cranky old men on “the Muppets” who sit up in the balcony and just grumble all the time. But pretty much all the English bible translations just stick with “grumble”.

The grumbling of the Hebrew scriptures seems to be very different than the grumbling here in the gospels. The murmuring, the complaint, and the lament of the Hebrew scriptures has a much deeper, profound,  existential connotation. The people of Israel complaining in the wilderness convinced Moses brought them out there to die. The lament of Job at the suffering inflicted upon him amid God’s debate with Satan. Elijah’s lashing out at God under a broom tree and up on Mt Horeb because Queen Jezebel was out to kill him and he felt like he was the only one left trying to serve God. The theological thread of complaint and lament that weaves all through the Old Testament is foundational to understanding the relationship between God and God’s people. Lament and grumbling have no comparison. Grumbling almost has a petty feel to it when paired with lament. God hearing the people’s cry in bondage in Egypt has no comparison to Jesus having to listen to the grumbling that came in response as people in power, people of means, people steeped in faith and religion watched what Jesus did, saw who came to listen and eat with Jesus, heard what Jesus was teaching. What he did, who came to listen, and what he said and taught. The people grumbled.

When you stop and think about it, it’s not just surprising, it is shocking that there is so relatively little grumbling in the gospel narrative. Think about Jesus’ teaching. Think about what who he welcomed, the ones he touched, the people he so clearly cared for. Think about what the gospel of Jesus Christ actually says about forgiveness, and loving your enemies, and serving the poor, and loving your neighbor. Think about what Jesus actually taught when it comes to our money and to our stuff and to our attempt at piety and religiosity and our inability to do anything to earn, to gain, or to win our salvation. There had to be a lot, a whole lot more grumbling.  It’s surprising. It’s shocking. It’s unexpected. How little grumbling there is in the gospels when you and I live in a world, in a time where the grumbling is so much. The grumbling is so loud. The grumbling is pretty much everywhere.

A dear friend of mine here in Princeton sold his company last year to a private equity group. This friend is not a part of our congregation but is deeply faithful and loves to talk about preaching when we have lunch. The complex deal involved multiple lawyers with negotiations right to the last minute that almost broke off several times. The owner about to sell the company he built and led for decades was sitting with his senior leadership team. He told them that once the transaction took place, once all the funds related to the sale were received, he wanted to give a monetary gift to every employee. It was something like $1,500 or $2,000 for everyone from the CFO, to the head of HR, to the truckdriver, the warehouse staff, the custodians. He knew it had to go through payroll and be taxed so he wanted to gross up the gift so employees would pocket the intended amount of the gift. The executive team had trouble wrapping their head around his request. One kept using the word bonus. “It’s not a bonus. It’s gift” my friend responded. Another suggested it should be an amount proportional to salary or hourly wage. “No, it’s the same for everyone. It’s a gift.” “Some employees have been here a lot longer. We just hired someone last week.  “I know. The point is that is the same for everyone. No matter what”. The frustration of the senior staff kept rising and they wouldn’t let it drop. Finally, my friend said with some volume and authority announcing the end of the conversation, “Look, if you want me to read the Gospel of Matthew to you right now, I will. It is a gift for everyone. The same for everyone.” We have not had lunch since last December, so I emailed my friend this week to ask permission to tell you this story. He wrote back saying that he was fine with me sharing it. Then he gave me an update. One employee who has been with the company several years with a relatively high salary has threatened to sue over the gift because it wasn’t fair. He’s still grumbling.

The grumbling, it’s so loud in the world. Yet, the gospels have so relatively little grumbling. Maybe that’s because the gospel writers didn’t want what Jesus did, who Jesus was with, and what Jesus said to somehow be overshadowed by any magnitude of grumbling. Because when the grumbling becomes so loud, when the grumblers become so loud, it can drown out the message of the gospel. If the grumbling filled the gospel page it could so easily take the readers eye away from Jesus.  And when it comes to the teaching of Jesus and who he welcomed, and the ones he touched, and the people he so clearly cared for while telling others to care for them too, when it comes to what the gospel of Jesus Christ actually says about forgiveness, and loving your enemies, and serving the poor, and loving your neighbor, and welcoming the stranger, when it comes to what Jesus actually taught when it comes to violence and power and economics, when it comes to the political implications of his gospel, yes, there is grumbling, lots of loud grumbling.

Tradition labels the beginning of the Matthew chapter 20 as the “parable of the laborers in the vineyard”. But it is really a parable about the unsettling, startling generosity of God. And little defines the human condition more than a desire among the powerful, the religious, and the wealthy to horde the generosity of God. God can be generous to me just not to you. Because that wouldn’t be fair, would it? And a very real threat to faith when the grumbling is loud, when the grumblers are so loud, maybe when your own grumbling has become louder than you think? The very real threat to your own encounter with the generosity of God is that you can no longer hear what Jesus teaches. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, they intend for the reader, the follower of Jesus, the disciple, the Christian, the church, they intend for you and for me to see Jesus. They were determined not to let the grumbling drown out the gospel. No, there isn’t much grumbling in the gospel narrative itself. But then, here in the gospel, when it came to what Jesus did, who Jesus was with, what Jesus said, the world didn’t just grumble. They killed him.

And in order to silence the grumbling, to make sure the grumblers didn’t get to define the gospel of Jesus Christ, in order to put a exclamation point forever on the unsettling, startling, unexpected generosity of God, God raised Jesus from the dead.

When the grumblers get so loud, don’t let it drown out the gospel of Jesus Christ in your life.

Because Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

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Romans 14:1-13
David A. Davis
September 13, 2020

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Diary of a Pastor’s Soul is the title of Craig Barnes’ new book that was just published in the last few months. Before becoming president of Princeton Seminary, he spent a lifetime as a pastor in ministry in several congregations around the country. For weeks, maybe for months in this pandemic, I had trouble clearing my head in the evening and reading for pleasure. Diary of a Pastor’s Soul just sat on my desk for too. President Barnes had gracious sent me a copy of the book but I just wasn’t doing any reading. As it turned out, Dr. Barnes book is what helped get me beyond my reader’s block. Actually, it was the first sentence of the first chapter. When I read it, I knew the author was looking into the pastor’s soul, into my soul. Taking the form of a diary, the book is written in the first person of a pastor’s voice.

Here is the first sentence of Diary of a Pastor’s Soul;: “It looks like we’ve finally found a way to get Alice Matthews off the property committee.” That’s it. The first sentence. With that sentence the author/pastor/president had me in the palm of his hand. One sentence. First Sentence. Because every pastor knows Alice Matthews. I knew her in my first congregation. Instead of ruling the property committee of one for 23 years like Alice Matthew, the self-appointed building chief of a different gender held the keys for more like 50.  The fictional Alice Matthews is a prototype; maybe better said, a metaphor. A character that embodies all the things congregations find to disagree on and argue about that have nothing to do with theology, ministry, or mission: the color of the rug, a new coffee pot, who gets to decorate the parlor, the setting for timer on the outdoor lights. On and on and on.

I thought of Alice Matthews this week as I read Romans 14 and as I prepared to preach again from this pulpit, what some call this “holy desk.” I thought about Alice Matthews because I’m pretty we have all found ourselves thinking, dreaming, longing for this worship space over the last seven months. Thinking about this space even as by gift of God’s grace and through Holy Spirit, God led us to new way to worship together. At the end of that first chapter, the fictional pastor in Dr. Barnes does a bit of turnaround on Alice Matthews and her grip on the building. The pastor pauses for a deeper reflection on something like worship space. “The mission is the mission, and our faith has never survived by being a comfortable place of memories, I get that.” the pastor writes in the diary. Then the pastor leaves the reader with this; “But I wonder what it does to our souls to so easily forget things like place and the holy memories that are attached to them.” Place. Holy memories.

Here in Romans 14, I think in some way the Apostle Paul is addressing Alice Matthews; the metaphor of Alice Matthews and all that so easily rips at the ties that bind Christian community. To be clear, the disagreement between the earliest Jewish follows of Jesus and the Gentile followers of Jesus on dietary laws and sabbath keeping should not be compared to arguments about carpet color. What Paul labels in Romans as “quarreling over opinions” was honest, sincere debate about religious practices and how to live the faith. Paul’s exhortation to the Roman church is to welcome the weak in faith, make sure your practices and behaviors are intended to honor the Lord, and above all, do not pass judgement. “Must not pass judgement”, he writes. “Who are you to pass judgement….why do you pass judgement…let us therefore no longer pass judgement on one another”.  Over and over again in just a few verses. Paul could not be any clearer. God alone sits in the judgment seat!

In Romans 12, 13, 14, and 15, Paul address the Christian life and life in Christian community in a pretty specific and detailed way. After the in-depth and profound theological argument of the first 11 chapters, Paul takes the time to dig into the nitty gritty of ordinary life. Here in chapter 14, it is the day to day of the life in Christ: dietary choices, sabbath keeping, religious practice, judgmentalism, and self-righteousness. Paul writing to the  routines of life and how even in the rhythms of the day, in the waking up and the going to sleep, in the goings and comings, in the eating and the drinking and warning the earliest followers of Jesus about judging others. The Apostle Paul writing about how amid life itself, folks in the gathered community are so easily prone to judging one another and basking in their own pious, self-righteousness.

Remarkably, right here in Romans 14, right in the middle of all that ordinary stuff, , Paul plays the resurrection card. Paul drops the resurrection mic. Paul stops to sing a resurrection song. “We do not live to ourselves and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living.”  It is Paul, writing to a fledging Christian community trying to get along and quarreling over opinions and too quickly judging one another, and then stopping pretty much  mid-paragraph and writing in capital letters, “Hey, Christ is Risen!”. A resurrection proclamation, a resurrection shout, a resurrection trumpet blast sort of out of nowhere. It’s like a Easter morning sermon dropped on a community of faith on a Thursday in February.

A great jazz saxophone player named Sonny Rollins celebrated his 90 birthday this week. I listened to a tribute podcast to him that included some great song clips and an interview from the mid 90’s. At one point seasoned musician was asked if he still practiced. Part of his answer was to describe how someone who plays a reed instrument has to maintain their embouchure. The embouchure is the position and relationship of the lips, tongue and teeth that results in the right sound coming out of the instrument. When I was in fifth grade, I wanted to play the trumpet. The junior high music teacher who came to meet with the fifth graders told me I had a better embouchure for a trombone. I took that to mean my lips were too fat. I figured out later that he just needed more trombones in the junior high band. Sonny Rollins explained that if you don’t practice, you will lose your embouchure. When you try to play again without that strong shaped foundation, the lips can bleed and crack.

For the Apostle Paul, resurrection hope is THEE strong foundation of Christian community. Our resurrection hope is the embouchure of life together for the followers of Jesus. “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s”.  Every pastor, including Craig Barnes and me, have read these verses from Paul aloud almost exclusively at memorial services. I just read it two weeks ago at an outdoor service for a church member’s brother in their backyard. But for Paul, here in the context of Romans 14, “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord” is  not about dying. It is about living. It’s about a life together infused in absolutely everyway with resurrection hope, resurrection promise, resurrection power.

It’s not just shouting “Christ is Risen” on Easter morning. It’s clinging to resurrection promise when you’ve lost track of what day it is because every day feels the same. It’s clinging to resurrection promise when you are praying in the dark of night asking God  when all of this pandemic stuff is going to end. It’s not just craving some resurrection light in the valley of the shadow of death. Its living in that light every day, basking in the promise of eternal life and passing forward the life giving, life-sustaining power of God’s love to those around you moment by moment, in the phone call to someone who is lonely, in the kind word to a stranger, in a word of peace you breath into this world’s chaos.

It’s not just singing a resurrection song, Hallelujah Chorus, when you come back to this room, it is singing a resurrection song with the forgiveness you sow in your life. It is proclaiming the resurrection gospel with how your treat others in the virtual classroom or meeting. It is giving a resurrection witness with the unconditional love you show to family member who is frightened or anxious. It is the assurance of God’s resurrection presence that you draw upon way deep down as you drop your child off for the first time on campus wondering whether they will be home before the end of the semester. It is the resurrection courage that emboldens you to believe and then live like you can actually make a difference bearing the light and love of Jesus Christ into the dark shadows of hatred and racism and nationalism. It’s the resurrection strength you didn’t know you had that carries you in the days after a diagnosis. It is the resurrection perseverance that never lets that vision of God’s peaceable kingdom vanish from your prayer life when gun violence ravages the cities and fires rip through neighborhoods  It is grabbing hold of resurrection promise as tears run down your cheeks while you hold your newborn child and you remember anew way deep down that even in this crazy apocalyptic world we live in right now, your child’s future, is held tight as drum in the very heart of God. “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s”. 

Paul’s resurrection song for living. Resurrection hope for these most extraordinary of days in our extremely ordinary lives. Paul’s call for you and for me to live beyond ourselves; to live for the God who first loved us in Christ Jesus. For….“We do not live to ourselves and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living.” 

 

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I Thessalonians 1:10
Andrew Scales
September 6, 2020

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(Video Only)

 

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Exodus 3:1-15
Len Scales
August 30, 2020

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(Video Only)

 

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