II Timothy 1:1-8
September 28
Lauren J. McFeaters
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I am reminded of your sincere faith — a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois — and your mother Eunice — and now, I am sure, lives in you. 

Faith — we pass it on — one to another. Belief — we share it — generation to generation. Lois — Eunice — You.

For Timothy, it’s three generations. Life grounded in Jesus; passed on — and then passed on again.

Lois — Eunice — You. Who is your Lois? Who has been your Eunice?

My Lois and Eunice take the form of the Canadian Catholic Sisters of St. Augustine, whose Mother House is in Old Quebec City, Canada. Their story starts four hundred years ago when several sisters, 16 years old, left the shores of France by ship, and traveled to the shores of New France.

They traveled with one goal: to serve Jesus Christ and care for Indigenous people and settlers in the colony. And because they were skilled apothecaries, they brought medicines and grew medicinal plants.

They created a church in a tent. They opened a clinic for the healing of bodies and they shaped holy friendships. They mended and bandaged and stitched up the broken and infirm, and built a small hospital in the middle of the settlement. You see the word hospital in French is Hotel Dieu, meaning House of God.

Over the last 400 years they have created an entire hospital system: 12 hospitals stretching north throughout Quebec Province. Each with a free clinic, a sanctuary, and a Monastery.

Our Loises. Our Eunices. Life grounded in Jesus; passed on — and then passed on again.

Whatever the disease, the Sisters found a way to treat. Whatever the condition, they found a way to repair. Whatever the complication, they found a way to soothe.

I think Timothy’s Church needs the ministrations of the Sisters of St. Augustine. The Epistles of 1^st & 2^nd Timothy and Titus are the New Testament writings known as The Pastoral Letters. They give encouragement, thanks, and instruction concerning pastoral issues in the church. I wrestle with some of what’s in the letters, but pastoral care is front and center I love a good pastoral issue. I live for a good pastoral concern.

Here is a church, probably a number of house churches, that need therapeutic intervention. Spirits need reassurance. Hearts need gratitude. Bodies need strength.

What we know is there is distress and anxiety. Times are bleak. The Romans are bearing down, and Christians are swept into prisons to rot, and into Coliseums to be slaughtered.

Paul himself writes this letter under extreme conditions. He’s been arrested — again — in Jerusalem, transported to Rome, and is in prison awaiting trial — the outcome is his death. So, when he hears his Companions in Christ, his friends in the Book of Life, are in need of care, he is more than eager for things to be set aright.

Paul becomes The Apothecary. He plants medicinal herbs and sends a prescription to the Hotel Dieu du Timothy; to the Hotel Dieu Nassau.

As the world rages, he gives courage. As our fears soar, he lays on his hands. All the while bearing witness that God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather, a spirit of power — and of love — and of self-discipline.

Just a few paragraphs down, Paul says it like this —  In times of distress, people will be self-absorbed, money-hungry, abusive, unholy, unfeeling, haters of the good, impulsively wild, bloated windbags, swollen with conceit, and making a big show of religion — but denying its power. [ii]

We see this every day: Mockery is a profession. Punishment an amusement. Revenge a career.

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 basic: the work of human caring and nurturance, by the tending of the bonds of community. Because, according to the loudest voices, that work is too insignificant, too non-dramatic, too distracting, from the serious business of world rule.^[iii]

Who is your Lois? Who has been your Eunice? Who made sure your life grounded in Jesus. Who passed it on — and then passed on again? Who murmurs to you: “Remember the gift that kindles your heart.” Who do you whisper: “Remember, God does not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power — of love — of self-discipline.”  Remember. Remember. Remember.

If it’s hard to remember, you’ve come to the right place. Because here, our Lord remembers for us. Here at this table we are Remembered. Re-Membered. Put back together and fed so that we might be courageous for the living of these days.

When Jesus says, “Do this in remembrance of me,” he isn’t calling us to a Memorial Meal, to gather around a funeral table to grieve.

“Do this in remembrance of me,” is not a command to wrap ourselves in memories of days gone by. This IS the Memory. He is the Memory.

“Do this in remembrance of me,” means, “I remember you – in the present tense – I am here, the Living Lord. This is the Living Meal.  I set this table. I invite you. I welcome you.” “I remember you.” Whatever the disease – Whatever the condition – Whatever the fear – Smell the bread. Taste the cup. Pass it on. Come to the table. Our Lord is here. And he is waiting.

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ENDNOTES

[i]  II Tmothy 1:1-8 [NRSVue] Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, for the sake of the promise of life that is in Christ Jesus, To Timothy, my beloved child: Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands, for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. Do not be ashamed, then, of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the gospel, in the power of God, who saved us.

[ii] II Timothy 3. Adapted from NRSVue and Eugene H. Peterson’s The Message: The New Testament in Contemporary English. Colorado Springs, CO:  NavPress Publishing Group, 1993.

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

 

 

Luke 16:1-14
September 21
David A. Davis
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“There was a rich man…” In the Gospel of Luke, when Jesus begins a parable, “There was a rich man…” one should quickly assume its going to be a tough one, Throughout Luke’s telling of the story of Jesus, the rich are challenged, condemned, indicted, and turned away. From the earliest verses, the song that comes from Mary’s lips when she was “with child”, that song about the Messiah: “He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”

In the familiar blessings offered by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, you remember Matthew’s words, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” But in Luke, Jesus removes the spiritual comfort zone. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” Luke pairs that blessing with “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”

It is Luke who tells of the poor widow dropping two copper coins in the offering box, putting in “all the living that she had”. Plenty of others were putting their gifts into the alms box. But Jesus proclaims, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them.”  Luke joins Matthew and Mark in telling the story of the rich young ruler who asks what he needs to do to inherit eternal life. “Only one thing you lack,” comes the response from Jesus, who praised the man’s piety. “Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor.” You know that the man turned away in despair. Matthew and Mark record that it was because the man had many possessions. Luke simply reports that he was very rich.

Jesus’ teaching about money, wealth, and possessions is clearer in the Gospel of Luke than in any of the other gospels. So when a parable that only appears in Luke begins with “There was a rich man….”, one should quickly assume it’s going to be a tough one. As you heard, as you read, the parable isn’t actually about a rich man at all. It is about the “dishonest manager”, referred to in older translations as “the unjust steward.” The character in the parable that Eugene Peterson labels in this paraphrase, “The Message”, is the crooked manager.

The crooked manager was charged with mishandling the rich man’s business affairs. “Turn in your accounts and your paperwork. I’m done with you.” The manager had one of those conversations we all have with ourselves. “I can’t dig. I am too ashamed to beg.” The light bulb goes off in his head and he comes up with a plan that he hopes if it won’t save his job, it will score him some points out in the community. In order to collect as much as he could quickly, in order to try to recoup something of the business loss incurred by the owner, in order to try to make some amends with the customers he had strong-armed for years, the manager went door to door, inviting people to pay up a reduced rate. He likely took off his commission and the extra he was trying scam week after week. “If you owe a hundred jugs of oil? Make it fifty. A hundred containers of wheat. Make it eighty. And so and so and such and such.

“And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” And the reader of Luke’s gospel throws up their hands at this point, wondering whether. to be more frustrated with Jesus or Luke. Fifteen chapters in and coming to the clear conclusion that the consistent word for the rich in the Gospel of Luke is one of warning and judgment. And this no good, loan-sharking, price fixing, money-loving, middle-level crooked bill collector receives a word of praise from the boss who just fired him! When Jesus begins a parable with “there was a rich man….”, one should quickly assume its going to be a tough one.

One scholarly approach to the parables is to ponder where the parable proper ends and the commentary of Jesus begins. Here in the case of the dishonest manager, some scholars argue that Jesus’ commentary, Jesus’ midrash (to use the ancient Hebrew term), begins at “And I tell you”. It is as if Jesus knows the disciples (and you and me) don’t get it. So he keeps going, maybe preaching a bit louder. It doesn’t get any easier, really. But by the time Jesus gets to “You cannot serve God and wealth”, you cannot serve God and mammon; Jesus does offer clarity. The reaction of the religious “lovers of money” is to scoff at Jesus and make fun of him.

In his recently published book, entitled Deadheads and Christians: They Will Know them By Their Love, Nassau Church’s own Tom Coogan describes a Grateful Dead concert as an existential experience. He argues that every Deadhead can describe a particular concert experience that was life-changing. They can tell the details, the set list, the names of fellow concert goers because of “how deeply they were affected.” Far less an experience of the head and far more an experience of the heart and soul.

It can and has been argued that it is similar to the parables of Jesus. Listening/reading the parables is less an experience of the head and far more an experience of the heart and soul. Parables do something to the listener. An existential experience. It is not about figuring them out, unlocking the moral lesson like a able. It is more about letting the words of Jesus wash over you. Allow the parable to speak into your life in the here and now. Pondering meaning less perhaps, and focusing more on your own response. The experience, the reaction of the religious lovers of money was far more than an intellectual response to Jesus’ words.

Every week I go back to the Excel spreadsheet that the staff has built for me over the years, which lists every sermon I preached from this pulpit, sorted by scripture text. I look at my old sermons on the text I am preaching. Unlike the Luke text a few weeks ago about hating your family for Jesus’ sake, which I have never preached (and more than one of you suggested maybe I should not preach it again!). I have preached this tough parable of the crooked manager many times. More than half a dozen. You won’t be surprised that all of them had a stewardship sort of theme. Money. Giving. The sinful scourge of poverty all around us. As I said, by the end of Jesus’ brief commentary on the parable, his seemingly intended takeaway is pretty clear. “You can’t serve God and mammon.”

In the here and now of my life, as the parable washed over me early each morning in my sermon preparation, my experience of it had little to nothing to do with money. My head is spinning these days just like yours. I have the same knots in my stomach as most of you. The heaviness of heart is very real. The good news of Jesus came to me in my heart and soul this week through the Word. The promise of the Gospel leapt off the scripture’s page with encouragement and inspiration. One does not often say that about a parable that begins with “There was a rich man….”.

Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.” I went back and reread an op-ed piece that Anne Lamott wrote last month after the horrifying shooting and murder at the Catholic school in Minneapolis. The essay is entitled “What I Told My Sunday School Children About Death”.  In a way that only Anne Lamott can write, she didn’t mince words. “There should be one inviolable rule: Children are not shot or starved to death.” Later in the piece, she writes, “It is rough and harsh out there, and it seems, to my worried and paranoid self, worse by the day…We have to show up. We want to stay isolated from the suffering, but maybe the answer is to draw close.” Lamott goes to tell of her rabbi friend who, when she is discouraged and feeling hopeless, makes “matzo ball soup for the sick and lonely and friends; in my Presbyterian tradition,” she continues, “we tend toward casseroles. These offer consolation to the soul. There are always a lot of people who need them, like me.”  Jesus said “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.”

We were having dinner this week at Conte’s Pizza. A family of four came in. The older son was on crutches with a brace on his knee covering pretty much his whole leg. As they came into the restaurant from the Witherspoon Street entrance, they weren’t sure where to go to get a table. I figured it was their first visit. While the injured young man looked 12 to me, he had a Princeton athletics T-shirt. The kind of athletes wear for practice. He was clearly distraught, sometimes holding his head in his hands. The young parents and their little brother are trying to offer comfort. They were all looking very sad. We didn’t speak to them, but in my mind, I picture him as a freshman soccer player at the university who just tore everything in his left knee. I noticed that their server is someone we have come to know over the years. Her son was one of the coaches when our son Ben played soccer for Princeton High School. It is less about what a parable means and more about a parable does to you. On the way out, with the server’s help, we bought dinner for a family whose lives were turned upside down this week, with a young kid whose hopes for this fall seemed crushed. Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.”

I don’t know if your life in here and now is feeling anything like mine these days, but maybe matzo ball soup, casseroles, and pizza can help. I am guessing that in another season, the parable of the crooked manager will come at me again with Jesus shouting about serving God and serving mammon. But for now, Jesus said, “Whoever is faithful in little, is faithful in much.” And just speaking for me, I experienced these words of Jesus this week as really, really good news. And I offer that for your courage and encouragement. The encouraging good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

 

Psalm 51
September 14
David A. Davis
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Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy on us. Have mercy on us, O God, according to your steadfast love. In the abundance of your love, your love that is constant, your love that never fails, have mercy on us. Your mercy is as abundant as your love. Mercy. Compassion. Understanding. Have mercy on us. Have mercy on all of us, O God. Not pity. Not a feeling sorry for. But an unconditional love that never turns away. An ever-present compassion that brings tears to your eyes, O God. A divine-like patience that will never give up…on us. Your anger lasts but a moment but your favor, your kindness, your embrace lasts a lifetime and more, O God.

Lord, Lord, Lord have mercy. Tradition identifies the author of Psalm 51 as King David. David pretty much begging you for forgiveness, God, after Nathan confronted him about his sinful behavior with Bathsheba. A deeply personal plea. “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you alone, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight”.  Yes, Holy One, I have my sins to bring before you. We all have our sins to lay bare before you. The cleansing baptismal waters of your forgiveness wash over us every day. Every day. It is a deeply personal plea, prayer for all of us. That in and through Jesus Christ your forgiveness and redemption might cleanse us from all sin. Every moment of every day. “You desire truth in the inward being, therefore teach me (teach us) wisdom” deep within. Give us our truth and your wisdom that draws us near to your heart and helps to live a bit more faithfully, enables to do a bit better, inspires what the old gospel song described as “a closer walk with thee.”

But to be honest, Lord God, you can’t really read Psalm 51 this week and just keep it personal. The plea I mean. The cry for your mercy. You who know the inner most parts of every heart. You see the same world we do. A world, a nation, a people, so, so far from what your prophets proclaimed and what Jesus taught and what you intend for your creation. If one were to offer a litany of specifics in the midst of the psalmists prayer to you, God of compassion and mercy, it would be hard to know where to start and it would never end. The petitions. The laments. The plea. You can’t read Psalm 51 this week and hear it as prayer for one heart at a time. It’s not just a prayer for in here. It’s a prayer for out there. It’s a prayer for everywhere. Lord, Lord, Lord have mercy. It’s more than an expression that rolls from the lips of one the saints whose seen more than her share of life and heaves a sigh and shakes her head. No God, it is a deep, authentic cry of a heavy heart when other words just don’t come. A prayer that can help sleep to come at night when worries of the day never cease to mount. Have mercy on us, O God. Have mercy on all of us. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God and put a new and right spirit within me.” Create in us, all of us, clean hearts, O God put a new and right spirit with us, all of us. Not clean as sinless or perfectly pure or even spotless. That won’t happen until the other side of glory, until we come into your presence, until we rest eternally in your very heart God. No, this is more like clean as in heal. Like when Jesus healed the ten lepers. They were made clean. A clean heart healed from its woundedness. A clean heart mended from its brokenness. A clean heart lift from its despair. A clean heart freed from all that separates us from you, Merciful God. That’s our plea. That’s our prayer. That’s your promise. Because you, Creator God, you who created the heavens and the earth, you who created each one of us, are creating…still. For the love of God, for the love of you, don’t stop creating now. As the psalmist said, “I lift mine eyes to the hills- from whence will my help come. My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.” Our help is the work of your ongoing, still creating Spirit on the loose in each one of us and in the world. Our help. Our hope, O Spirit of the Living God.

Clean hearts and new and right spirits. Put new and right spirits within us, all of us. New, like the promise Isaiah proclaimed: I am the Lord, your God, your Holy One…I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth.” God of every blessing, allow new spirits to spring forth. A new spirit within fed by your peace, not as the world gives, but the peace Jesus gives unto us. A new spirit that flows with joy the world can never crush. A spirit kept by your light, the light of the world. A spirit that shall never be crushed by the present and future darkness. Overwhelmed. Yes. Distraught. Maybe. But in your wisdom and by your grace and with your love that will not let us go, put that new spirit within us.

New and right spirits. Right spirit. I don’t know God, but these days it seems like a right spirit is less about not being a wrong spirit and more about being aligned with your Spirit. Right, not as in right or wrong. But right more like the root of righteousness. Like when Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” Put right spirits within us God. Spirits that long for the world Mary sang about in the Magnificat. The world Jesus described when he stood in the synagogue and read from the scroll of Isaiah. Put right spirits within us that yearn for justice to roll down and the poor to be lifted up. Right spirits that help us see the world like Jesus sees the world and work for the world Jesus paints with his words. Put new and right spirits within us, O God of all righteousness. Clean hearts and new spirits.

“Do not cast [us] away from your presence and do not take your holy spirit from [us]’.  It’s like we don’t even need to ask. We know that. But along with the resurrection hope that Christ is Risen, the assurance of your presence with us always, O Emmanuel, that’s what carries us. That’s what sustains us. That Christ is with us always until the end of the age. That your Holy Spirit is at work advocating, guiding, sanctifying us. That even in the most difficult seasons of our lives, the most discouraging times when it comes to longing for peace, the most frightening days of mass shootings and political violence in the land, you are with us. The world and everything in it still belong to you. That you still hold each of us, all of us, in the palm of your hand. Not going lie Lord, our hands are raised with all sorts question you about all we see around us. Our prayer fists are clinched in frustration and anger about the hatred, the bigotry, the absolute neglect of the common good, but you still are God in heaven and the God who comes all the way down in Jesus Christ who anointed our brokenness with his human flesh and bones. He stretched out his arms to embrace to save this blasted world. It is your presence that carries us these days. As the psalmist says “If I ascend to heaven you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me and your right hand shall hold me fast. Don’t cast us away from your presence and do not take your holy spirit from us. For your Holy Spirit intercedes for us. Every moment of every day.

Blessed Savior, still our refuge, I officiated at a wedding yesterday. I was reminded how life-giving, redeeming, restoring the taste of a bit of joy can be. A glimpse of joy and love is such a gift. A gift to not be taken for granted. So yes, give us a fresh dose of the joy of your salvation. Help us not to forget to find joy in the little things and in the big things. Knowing that the world cannot take away the joy we have in Jesus Christ. Like your peace, it is a joy not as the world gives. Give us joy, Holy God. It seems almost like a subversive prayer request or even a selfish one. But joy as resistance is one of the ways you sustain us God. A bit of joy to face to tomorrow. A little foretaste of glory divine to inspire us for another day. A glimpse of joy so we can tackle some of the hard stuff.

Sustain us with willing spirits. Willing spirits that find a way, even the simplist of ways to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with you. Willing spirits that are open to a nudge from you to say yes to an ask, or to discover a new way to love a neighbor, or to offer some extra gratitude to someone behind a register or serving a table or taking a temperature. Sustain us with willing spirits, Loving God, that remind us that we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ not just when we are in here but when we are out there. And we are called to see the very face of Christ in those around us. Give us the eyes and hearts that come with willing spirits.

Lastly, with our plea, with our prayer, comes our praise. The wisdom of scripture reveals, and lives of the saints that have gone before us testify, and the witness of the great cloud affirms you can’t have one without the other. Prayer and praise.

So, Lord, “open [our] lips, and our mouths will declare your praise.” For our chief end in this life and the life to come is to worship you and enjoy forever.

Lord, Lord, Lord have mercy.

Create in us clean hearts and right minds.

 

Luke 14:25-35
September 7
David A. Davis
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I don’t like that Jesus uses the word hate. I would say that “I hate that Jesus uses the word hate,” but we taught our children that we didn’t use that word in our house. Same with “shut up”. The expression was not/is not welcomed in our home. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Seriously, Jesus! Jesus is surely not the only one in the bible to use the word. “ I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies…Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like water, and righteousness like and everflowing stream.” The Hebrew prophet Amos. “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me, he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners…For I, the Lord, love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing.” Isaiah, chapter 61.

“Those who say, ‘I love God’ and hate their brothers or sisters are liars, for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from God is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” The epistle of I John. Did you hear that one, Jesus? “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good.” The Apostle Paul in Romans. Hate what is evil. That sounds better. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil.” I’m okay with that one. The Sermon on the Mount in Matthew: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” That’s a very tough ask, but at least I get it.

“Whoever comes to me does not hate…father and mother…and even life itself.”  So I went looking for other translations to help me feel better about the hate. I typed in Luke 14:26 and then clicked on “All English Translations”. It didn’t help. A handful, as in three or four, offered an alternative. The rest stuck with “hate”. The Common English Version reads “You cannot be my disciple, unless you love me more than you love your father and mother, your wife and children, and your brothers and sisters. You cannot follow me unless you love me more than you love your own life”. That helps a bit, but the Greek text is very clear. I went to the Greek dictionary in hopes of variation on a verb. It didn’t help. Definition: “hate, detest, abhor”.  The example Jesus gives about a king going to war against another king isn’t all that great either. But there is even more battle in the bible than there is hate. Then there’s the selling of all your possessions. Jesus isn’t just talking to the rich young ruler as he does later in Luke, telling him to sell all his possessions and give them to the poor. Hating those you love. Carrying the cross. Building a tower. Going out to wage war. Selling all your possessions. Salt with no taste. “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” Seriously, Jesus!

In his commentary on Luke in the Interpretation series, Fred Craddock points out that the use of the word “hate” in the ancient Semitic world was a common expression that was not about emotion or matters of the heart. It is more related to turning away from or detaching. If Jesus’ intended connotation here was just “hate” being “hate”, Craddock points out, this one verse would be in contrast to all the calls to love and kindness that fill the verses of both testaments, including the verses behind me on the chancel wall. Maybe the word functioned back then, something like the word “sick” today. When someone decades younger than me refers to something as “sick”, I have to stop and think whether they are referring to something as good or bad. “That is so sick!” Craddock makes the argument that “hate” had a whole other meaning. “What is demanded of disciples”, he concludes, “is that in the network of many loyalties in which all of us live, the claim of Christ and the gospel not only takes precedence but, in fact, redefines the others.”

This difficult teaching from the lips of Jesus reminds me of a similarly perplexing part of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew. In the midst of that sermon, Jesus preaches, “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.” And somewhere on that hill, someone in the congregation shouts “Amen!” “Come on now,” “Preach, Jesus Preach!” Where are the biblical claims to inerrancy and literal interpretations when Jesus is talking about lopping off body parts? It’s not about plucking your eye, it is about having the ears to hear. “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”.  Jesus often repeated expression that reflects his call to his disciples to hear, understand, and so live the gospel he teaches with a longing for depth and maturity. To daily yearn for faith that leaps off the scriptures’ page and empowers you to live in the ever more complex, confusing, and confrontational world all around us. Or as the Apostle Paul puts it in Ephesians, “I pray that you nay have the power to comprehend, with all of the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the LOVE of Christ which surpasses all knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” Having ears to hear.

Part of having ears to hear for the reader of the bible is to pay attention to Jesus’ audience. If we were to keep reading here in Luke, the next chapter is Jesus teaching tax collectors and sinners the parables about lost things. One sheep. One coin. One son. “Joy in the presence of the angels of God” for just one. A father’s compassion and joy for the lost son who has come home. The Pharisees and the scribes grumble because Jesus welcomes “them”. He eats with “them”. Preaching about “I once was lost but now I am found” to an audience of sinners. Here in chapter 14, before our puzzling, confounding text for today, Jesus heals an infirm man on the sabbath as the religious leaders rage. He then tells the Pharisees a parable about the lowliest being given the places of honor at a banquet and challenging those who lust for and brandish power and prestige. “When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind”, Jesus says. Jesus then tells about the great dinner with the invited guests, offering various legitimate reasons why they can’t make it. Jesus tells them about the owner of the house who sends for the neediest and most vulnerable to fill the house. Preaching to the Pharisees about lavishing hospitality on the least of these.

To have ears to hear includes noting Jesus’ intended audience. Pharisees listened to the parables of banquets. Tax collected and sinners listening to parables about lost things. In our text for the morning, just as Jesus begins to drop the hate word,  don’t miss the reference to a different audience. Luke, the narrator, writes, “Now large crowds were traveling with him, and he turned and said to them.”  Not tax collectors. Not Pharisees. “Now….large crowds were traveling with him.” Crowds that witnessed not just one being healed but lots being healed. People in the crowd who say or maybe were told about miracle after miracle. A large crowd who have heard sermons full of parables and watched confrontations with religious leaders. “Now….large crowds were traveling with him.” It seems to imply people who want to hear, who want to be with Jesus. A pro-Jesus crowd. People who are drawn to Jesus, not to confront him but perhaps to hear more. Maybe some were just intrigued by the good preaching. Maybe people are going along for the ride, for the fascination of it all.  Maybe others in the crowd were waiting for their turn to be healed. Maybe some only hear bits and pieces along the way.  Maybe there are those who have suffered, been injured, and abused by the religious establishment and are longing for something new. Maybe others in the crowd were taking a “what’s in it for me approach.”

“Now….large crowds were traveling with him.” Jesus turns to them and talks about hating those you love. Carrying the cross. Building a tower. Going out to wage war. Selling all your positions. Salt with no taste. “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” Jesus turns to them and says “Let me take a moment to make sure you understand where this is headed. Where we are going. Where I am going. Jesus stops to give a nod to the gospel in all of it’s fullness, discipleship that is life transforming, and a kingdom that is intended to turn the world’s ways upside down. No, it won’t be easy. It isn’t easy. It was never intended to be easy. Jesus turns to the “now…large crowds” and talks about what Dietrich Bonhoeffer identified as “the cost of discipleship.”

I still wish Jesus didn’t use the word hate when it comes to the people you love most. But what if having ears to hear when it comes to the most difficult parts of the teaching of Jesus is less about understanding it all and more about clinging to even the smallest of takeaways for living the Christian life. For instance, when you are a follower of Jesus, it can’t always be about you first. Or when it comes to discipleship, parts of the teaching of Jesus ought to make us squirm once in a while. Or the cross to carry isn’t ours, it is his. For here in Luke, before Jesus tells the two on either side of him there on the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, and in Matthew, before Jesus tells the disciples to go make disciples of all nations and “I will be with you always, even to the end of the age.”  Before the promise of resurrection life, Jesus says to the disciples, to the church, and to you and me, “This is my body broken for you.”

Let anyone with ears to hear, listen.

Micah 6:1-8
August 31
Andrew Scales
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Luke 7:11-17 [i]
August 24
Lauren J. McFeaters
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Have you been to New Orleans? There’s the French Quarter, the Garden District, Jackson Square, and Preservation Hall. There’s the National WWII Museum and the Mahalia Jackson Theater. Then there’s the food: the Po-Boys and Gumbo, Crawfish Etouffee and Jambalaya. And the way to start your day is with a copy of the Tribune, beignets, and café au lait.

And then, there are the cemeteries. Lots of them. They’re named St. Louis and Cypress Grove, Gates of Prayer and Greenwood, Holt and Lake Lawn. So many cemeteries in so little space. And because the city lies at sea level, all the graves are in above-the-ground crypts, surrounded by stone statuary.

In New Orleans, one of the most notable facets of culture is how you get to the cemetery. You get there with Jazz.

The Jazz Funeral is unique to New Orleans. Its origins date back centuries to Nigeria and West Africa, and it begins at church. After worship, outside on the steps, the casket is carried by family and friends, or slid inside a glass-sided hearse. A solemn brass band leads the procession and the mourners walk behind.

Slowly, very slowly, the procession shuffles toward the cemetery. Dirges are played: Nearer My God to Thee and Just a Closer Walk with Thee.[ii] You know this hymn. Can’t you just hear Mahalia Jackson –  the cadence and the pulse:

Just a closer walk with Thee

Grant it, Jesus, is my plea

Daily walking close to Thee

Let it be, dear Lord, let it be ^[iii]

Arriving at the grave, the words of committal are said, and the pallbearers lift the casket for the burial. And then … Nothing. Silence. Nothing but silence. Silence goes on and on and on …

Until … KAPOW! Celebration music fills the air. Shouts of joy are raised. Hoots and hollers. Glory Alleluia! The brass lifts up When the Saints Go Marching In.  Can’t you hear Louie Armstrong? The festivities of Thanksgiving begin.

It’s the defining moment; a holy moment:

• Past moves to future.
• Shuffling becomes swing.
• A crowd struts, sings, waves umbrellas, all the while dancing everything back to life; dancing everything back to life. [iv]

It’s all tribute. Tribute and care; honor and compassion.

As we travel with Jesus today, he meets a funeral procession: a solemn, mourning people, shuffling to the cemetery.   Searching for a closer walk with God. Dirges are wailed. Laments are moaned.

There’s a shattered mother; known only as the Widow of Nain.   A devastated woman, left in a man’s world. It’s a picture of destitution. Her future without her son’s support and security, is grim; her circumstances dire. She’s left in total dependence upon the crowd around her. [v]

And yet, when Jesus witnesses her heartache, he has neither pity nor kindness. He has no sympathy or charity. What Jesus has is compassion.

“Do not weep.” Compassion.

“Do not cry.” Compassion.

“Let me wipe your tears.” Compassion.

The biblical word for compassion comes from the Greek word splagcna. I’m going to say it again. Splagcna.  It sounds like it means. Splagcna literally meaning: to have tender mercy – straight from the bowels; to have loving mercy from the viscera; to have heart from the innards. Jesus’ compassion is a tender mercy straight from the gut.

The root of compassion comes straight from the very pit of our being. That plummeting in our guts when we hear really shocking news, when we witness cruelty, when we experience something so terribly unexpected that we feel only from our core.

Jesus was sucker punched by the Widow of Nain, so much so that power came forth as he touched the dead man’s body and breath filled the dead man’s lungs:  “Young man. I say to you Rise! Awaken!” “Young man. I say to you Get Up! Dance.”

That’s the root of Jesus’ closer walk with the Widow of Nain: his compassion is more than an understanding look, or a sympathetic word, [vi] his consideration more than pity.

So too for Christians. Our Acts of Compassion must be a lovingkindness [vii] in service to the broken. Our Acts of Compassion must be mercy in service to the shattered.

And if we let our Christian Witness come from our guts, we can completely undermine the contempt, the loathing, and abhorrence of humanity that is happening all around us.

Acts of compassion, can absolutely slash through hatred and cut through fear. Acts of compassion become the indispensable way to rid the world of Tyranny.

And compassion, in the name of our Servant Lord, is perhaps the only thing that can save us from ourselves.[viii]

The Widow of Nain doesn’t ask Jesus to raise her son. She doesn’t fall on her knees and beg for her son’s life. All she does is weep.  There are no words about faith, or gratitude, or praise; just the absolute power of a mother’s tears.[ix]

We’re a church with a lot of tears.  We’re moved by many things. We cry easily. When we witness baptisms; enjoy a partnership with a new friend at St. Mary’s in Trenton; when we embrace a refugee family; when we minister beside our siblings at Westminster and Witherspoon Street Churches; when we experience the generosity of older adults; the determination of teens; and the bravery of children.

When our Lord restores to a widow her son, he restores her world. When our Lord guides a church to practice compassion, he restores our world. That’s what the kingdom of God does: Restores us. Raises us. Resurrects us. It’s pure joy – deep from the gut. Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

 

ENDNOTES

[i] Luke 7: 11-17 NRSVue: Soon afterward Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow, and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with compassion for her and said to her, “Do not cry.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, [that is the frame on which the young man’s body is laid] and the bearers stopped. And Jesus said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen among us!” and “God has visited his people!” This word about him spread throughout the whole of Judea and all the surrounding region.

[ii] “Multi-Cultural Traditions: The Jazz Funeral.” Originally printed in The Soul of New Orleans. www.neworleansonline.com.

[iii]  Just a Closer Walk With Thee (anonymous)

I am weak but Thou art strong
Jesus keep me from all wrong
I’ll be satisfied as long
As I walk, let me walk close to Thee

Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea
Daily walking close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be

When my feeble life is o’er
Time for me will be no more
Guide me gently, safely o’er
To Thy kingdom’s shore, to Thy shore Refrain

[iv] Mary LaCoste. “New Orleans jazz funerals — A joyous tradition.” The Louisiana Weekly, www.louisianaweekly.com, September 22, 2014.

[v] Beverly R. Gaventa Charles B. Cousar, J. Clinton McCann, Jr., James D. Newsome. Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, Year C. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994, 379-80.

[vi] Ibid.

[vii]  Gratitude abounds for Brian Phillips and Kevin Reel as they are the living definition of lovingkindness.

[viii] Walter Brueggemann. The Prophetic Imagination. New York: Fortress Press, 1978, 91.

[ix] Kim Buchanan. Sermon: From Procession to Party. Luke 7:11-17. Day1: A Ministry for the Alliance of Christian Media, Atlanta, Georgia, June 10, 2007.

 

Galatians 6:1-10
August 10
Len Scales
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We are back in the sanctuary at 61 Nassau Street as we come to the conclusion of a series in Galatians!

We are surrounded by a lot more light, fresh paint, and beautiful artwork in the chancel. The change of text reflects a focus in the life of Nassau Church to be mindful that as we worship gathered in this space, we are prepared and sent into the world to continue to live in God’s love.

Since Andrew and I started with Princeton Presbyterians, the campus ministry took up Micah 6:8 as our motto—Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly. When the orange banner goes up in the coming weeks to welcome new and returning students to Princeton, it will be the 10th year of reflecting this call into our community. Buttons and stickers have been shared between campus ministry and congregation and Micah 6:8 keeps working its way deeper into our life together so much so that it has become the banner text in the chancel. This is a reflection of who we are and who we aspire to be.

Much like Micah, the letter to the Galatians is a call to ongoing life as a follower of God. Filled with the Spirit, Gentiles in Galatia hear the message of Christ and begin to live it out. People had different opinions of requirements for Gentiles following Jesus, and so arguments and manipulation impacted the church there, making people feel like they weren’t enough. These conversations reached Paul and he wrote to encourage the church in Galatia, reminding them that salvation is through God’s grace, and that our calling is to bear good fruit for all through the work of the Spirit. Living as followers of Christ does not include tearing one another down. It does not leave people hungry. It does not oppress the neighbor.

When Andrew and I preach through epistles on Sunday evenings at Breaking Bread Worship with students, we talk about how a letter is just one segment of an ongoing conversation. We are hearing a particular voice in what we are reading, and we can use our sacred imagination to consider what the rest of the conversation might have included. What did the Galatians say when they wrote Paul back? Where did they have questions? How did they push back? What did they deeply appreciate?

We continue these conversations when we read Scripture and listen for God’s word for us as a part of the church today. We know that sometimes Scripture has been used to clobber our neighbors or maintain hierarchy. That is, in part, why the chancel text change is careful to not use masculine language for God, because we know there are pieces of Christian history (and present) that use gendered language as a support for belittling women and teaching binary thinking that cuts out so many siblings.

We have to ask what values guide our reading of Scripture and engagement in a faith community so that we can collectively live into the life of the Spirit.

The fruit of the Spirit in the chapter prior to today’s text illumines a theme that has come alive in my work in ministry. I arrived at my first call in North Carolina in 2011 shortly after the Presbyterian Church (USA) voted to support, rather than bar, LGBTQ+ folks seeking ordination. I had the opportunity to be a part of tough conversations and studies with the congregation. Some congregants knew the deep rejection their queer children experienced from that community and wanted to make sure no young person ever felt condemned again. It was through those conversations and reading Matthew Vines’ God and the Gay Christian that the role of good fruit crystalized for me. I heard a story just this spring about the good fruit harvested from those seeds planted over a decade ago. When a graduating high school student came out to the pastor, he shared with gratitude the acceptance he felt from the congregation. Fear, rejection, and broken relationships replaced with trust, support, and love. The congregation had to undergo some painful pruning to bear good fruit where there had once been bad.

As we look at the role of the church, the interpretation of Scripture, the practices we take up, we can ask “Is this bearing good fruit?”

Is it providing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control?

We can and need to ask if what we are doing is life-giving.

Christians have a long history of being on the wrong side of history, and the power of religion has been wielded to coerce people, bearing fear and even death into the world. That is not good fruit.

There is also history of good fruit with establishing education for all, building hospitals, calling for non-violence, and the ongoing work for justice.

As we look again to our chancel text today, we see that love appears all around us—God is love, love God, love kindness, and that the center panel gives us an example of what that love looks like. It makes what we do not just an idea but a material impact—caring for neighbors with housing, food, clothing, and freedom. This calling is not a small one; it is not a simple nor quick task.

Our text in Galatians today reminds us the life we are called to live out as followers of Christ is a collective undertaking. It is empowered by the Spirit and done in community.

Author, organizer, science fiction lover, adrienne maree brown, points toward examples throughout nature of the effectiveness of interdependence and resilience for a better future. In considering the power of a group, she describes flocking, how birds migrate. Brown’s book Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds, says, “There is an art to flocking: staying separate enough not to crowd each other, aligned enough to maintain a shared direction, and cohesive enough to always move towards each other” (13). A flock of birds is able to quickly change directions, adapt, to avoid predators. This is possible because leadership can come from any corner of the flock helping turn and guide toward safety.

This example from nature highlights the power of working together and how recognizing leadership from throughout the group can help us face challenging conditions and go the distance.

This sense of teamwork is what drives my Doctorate of Ministry research on the collaborative power between congregations and campus ministries. We get to learn from one another, and are better able to follow God’s call in the world when we welcome the energy and imagination, wisdom and love that comes together with a dynamism of varied ages and life stages.

A small example of that is Ms. Ingrid inviting the children in Club 3-4-5 to make care packages during finals season for Undergraduate and Graduate students. The cards are sweet and often funny and the college students love knowing that this younger generation is cheering them on. It is also a meaningful example for the kids to know church community can extend into your life as a young adult.

I’ve kept one of those cards from Club 3-4-5, because of the wisdom it shares. On the front are stickers of Winnie-the-Pooh, Piglet, and Tiger, separated from one another, trying to push and pull a huge lady bug each on their own. They can’t do it, until you open the card and see that they’ve come together to move what had seemed impossible. Now they are all flying! The inscription reads “If it isn’t working, try teamwork!”

When we look at the world it can seem like the obstacles are too large, too heavy, too longstanding, too complex to resolve. And the truth is that we can not do it alone. We really do need one another. We must work together, bearing one another’s burdens, resting when we need to and leading when we can to make sure when Christ appears in our midst that we as a community are ready.

This kind of teamwork is why the Neighbor Fund is possible. Generosity, willingness to respond to the request of trusted community partners, and commitment to cultivating good fruit — well-being, compassion, and courage — are the ways you are gathering around God’s love and responding with love through the power of the Spirit. Let us “bear one another’s burdens … not grow weary in doing what is right, … [and] work for the good of all.”^[1]  Amen.

^[1] Galatians 6:2, 9-10

Galatians 5:13-25
August 3
Lauren J. McFeaters
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When I was a teenager, my father gifted me with the first edition of The Book of Lists. You may or may not remember this book. It was a publishing phenomenon; the first of its kind; a compilation of unusual facts, a collection of cultural curiosities, and lists from the mundane to the bizarre, like:

• Jane Austen’s best heroines.
• The world’s greatest libel suits.
• Actors who turned down great roles.
• The Holy Land’s most sacred spots.
• Unusual stolen objects.
• And my favorite: 18 Sayings of Oscar Wilde. [ii]

I was very grateful for this gift because, as a kid who read the Encyclopedia Britannica for fun and who would rather be in a library than a softball field, I found a collection of the most interesting information. And remember, this was decades ago – no internet, no online research, no Google, so here was a guide that helped me catalogue and synthesize information. It helped me in school and in church because I suddenly had a new way of visualizing details. I started making lists, and I experienced history and literature as accessible and within reach.

My lists were academic and fun. For instance: Lauren, what are your favorite films? My Favorite Films are Ship of Fools, Raise the Red Lantern, Kind Hearts & Coronets, and Looking for Bobby Fischer

Greatest Actors?  Alec Guinness, Sidney Poitier

Best Vocalists?  K. D. Lang, Bill Withers, Rhiannon Giddens, Van Morrison

Favorite Authors: Kazuo Ishiguro, James McBride, Ngaio Marsh, John le Carre

Beloved Hebrew Prophets: Miriam, Micah, Deborah, Jeremiah

It’s become a hobby, keeping a journal of lists – prayers to be said, books to be read, liturgical readings to be followed, series to be watched, museums to be visited. It’s had an unexpected effect on me, because there a kind of security, when you have a place to keep track of things, a place to remember.

Our text today is a kind of a Biblical Book of Lists. Paul, who never shied away from a list, takes us through a registry of faithful living in the Spirit; an inventory of a life with God, and the security of knowing a freedom in our Lord leads to liberation and blessing.

It is absolutely clear, God has called you to sacred freedom, Paul says. Just make sure that you don’t use this freedom as an excuse to do whatever you want and destroy your freedom. Rather, use your Spirit-given freedom to serve one another in love; that’s how freedom grows.

My friends, says Paul, everything we know about God’s Word is summed up in a single sentence: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. And a free spirit is incompatible with selfishness.

It’s obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get our own way all of the time; when selfishness takes over? Here’s Paul’s list. We experience repetitive, loveless, and cheap sex;  fetid accumulations of emotional garbage; frenzied indulgences; joyless grabs for gratification; merciless competitions; brutal tempers; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives. We could go on. It’s a list that shakes and crumbles us.

But what happens, asks Paul, when we “love your neighbor as ourselves, when we put away the devouring of one another, and pause before we gratify our egos? Well, if we commit, together, to live by the Spirit, then, by contrast, God brings gifts into our lives that we can hardly imagine.

It’s the same way fruit appears on the peach trees at Terhune Orchard, or the tomatoes ripening on the vine in your gardens, or the sweet corn freshly harvested at the Trenton Farmers’ market. All fragrant and all gifts from God. God gifts us with a deeply scented concern for those who are suffering and the ability to act on their behalf; an aromatic affection for those in anguish and a new capacity for openhandedness; and God infuses us with an understanding of injustices meted out to the poor and then the skills needed to feed, clothe, visit and to turn poverty on its head.

Living in the Spirit also comes with serenity and composure; a peacefulness that gifts us with groundedness and allows us to live in our world filled with incessant political tantrums that try to distract us from the truth. Living in the Spirit obliterates these distractions, and we live with poise and calm. Poise and calm – the antidotes to the toxic chaos that tries its best to divert us, but will never have the last word. ^[iii]

And here’s the thing. There will be constant moments throughout this day and week when we’ll be tempted to detach ourselves from our groundedness in faith. It often happens when something is dangled in front of us as a promise to distract:

• It’s the lure of an iPhone Pro Max in Barbie Pink.
• The car that promises us a “Season of Dreams” if we purchase the Mercedes-Benz EQB 300 4MATIC.
• The HP Z Book Fury 16 G11 Mobile Workstation PC might set us back 9K, but promises that in using it, we can “expand and evolve.”

The temptations of this day will never end. Somewhere out there, we’ll find a microbrewery offering us the fellowship of the pub; a yogurt that will cure our gut woes; a deodorant that, head to toe, is going to make us feel better about our bodies; and Macy’s, which this very week, is generously inviting us to start our Christmas shopping.

Paul, however, would like us to cease the nonsense and to stand with Christ, who does not deny the existence of the things of the world, but gives those things the perspective they deserve.

We’re not created for the things we want, or own, or have to have, are we? We’re not created for the things we crave or desire. We’re not created to be seduced into purchases, relationships, and possessions. We’re created for the Lord who calls us to freedom.

In our world turned inside out and shaken up and down, Paul comes to us with a prayer that convicts us to get down on our knees, asking God to fortify us and to love us into sanity.

When you have experienced the anchoring love of God’s sanity – you can never be the same – that the breadth of God’s love will never leave your side; that you are then bowled over by wonder, and that there is nothing left to do, but to come to the Table of Joy, and feast with the One who frees us.

So come with joy even if your hearts are broken, for here is our joy, here is our nourishment, and my friends, here is our freedom.

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ENDNOTES

[ii] David Wallechinsky, Irving Wallace, Amy Wallace. The People’s Almanac Presents the Book of Lists, New York: William Morrow & Co., 1977.

[iii] Inspired by Eugene Petersen’s The Message. Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 397-398, 1993.

Galatians 3:23-29
July 27
Lauren J. McFeaters
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I’m not sure we can truly value how radical a message our text was to those who lived in the 1^st century world of the Mediterranean.

Our current concept of individualism would have been unfathomable in Paul’s time. Life was lived in circles of society different from our own. First century life revolved around networks of trade and work, the empire and religions, guilds and associations.

As C.K. Robertson says, the Apostle Paul was a man of two worlds. He could move in and out of synagogues and at the same time he was a citizen of the Roman Empire. And yet, with his message that “all are one in Christ,” Paul set up a new possibility: a network that demanded primary allegiance from its members and in which all other distinctions between people became secondary and irrelevant. [ii]

So when word reaches Paul that within the Galatian Church there are those casting doubt about an inclusive gospel; telling church members that only some can be considered followers of Christ Jesus; and that the Body of Christ is becoming a club with an entrance fee, he is angry and fearful.

You can smell Paul’s fear lifting off the page of this letter. Paul is afraid that this church is being seduced by an elite and exclusive circle, restricting entrance to the love of Jesus. Paul’s fear is a living, breathing thing because he is fighting for the very soul of the church – for the Galatians and for us.

To preach Christ crucified and risen – for all:

• Not as a reward to be earned through the Law of Moses, but a gift given to each and every person.
• Not as a prize to be won by choosing a clique to belong to; but a treasure opened to every individual.
• Not as a payment to receive by selling your soul to an inner circle, but a cherished place found at the table and font.

Listen again:

My Beloved Ones, remember you are now seasoned in Christ, and free to respond in faith to the Living God.

It is true, there was a time when we were carefully protected by Mosaic law, and the law was like the best of teachers, who walk with us and protect us.

But now we have arrived at our destination, and in the family of faith there is absolutely no division in any way for Jew and non-Jew,  immigrant or citizen, slave or free, male or female.

In God’s world all are equal through Christ and that makes each of us heirs of God’s promises. You are now seasoned in Christ, and free to respond in faith to the living God. [iii]

Seasoned in Christ.

Seasoned, as in, experienced in Christ, practiced in Christ.

Seasoned in Christ.

Seasoned, as in flavored in Christ, as in being salt and light for Christ, baptized in Christ; engrafted in Christ – living and dying in Christ.

More than anything else, this is the issue we wrestle with in these treacherous days. Can we be seasoned? Are we teachable?

For Paul, the place to start our seasoning is to tell the truth about our incessant need to categorize people into camps and factions; the never-ending competition to see who will be eliminated.

We hear it every day:

the “Who’s In, Who’s Out,” “Who Stays, Who Leaves.”

It’s so easily pronounced in entertainment catchphrases like:

• “You’re out! Auf Wiedersehen!”
• “You’re the Weakest Link.”
• “You’ve been evicted.”
• “The tribe has spoken.”
• “Please pack your knives and go.”
• “Your tour ends here.”
• And the worst: “You’re Fired! “Now get out!” [iv]

The categories that divide us today may be different than in Paul’s day, but divisions persist and are signs we are not seasoned with Christ; that we are immature; that we have forgotten Christ’s coming abolishes any camp or faction, category or label.

Because in our Lord divisions are pulverized and crushed. A life lived in Jesus is a life where we are accepted solely by what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.^[v]

Will we be seasoned? Are we teachable?

For me, there are four phrases, four things I have learned to say over and over again. They are a spiritual discipline that each day I hold onto, as needed, to help me stay teachable. The four phrases are these:

“I don’t know.”

“I need help.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was wrong.” [vi]

Some of you may recognize these phrases from the writer Louise Penny and her Inspector Armand Gamache. Louise Penny is for me, a kind of pastor and her four phrases are meant to cultivate humility, vulnerability, accountability, and courage – essential for the seasoned person; the teachable Christian. I’ll say them again:

“I don’t know.”

“I need help.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was wrong.”

For Paul and his beloved Galatians, it’s all about being a seasoned, teachable spirit in Christ. Teachable at any age  – we all grow, all progress, all reform.

And this is one of the things I love most about Paul:  his unrelenting quest for us to grow-up; his dogged way of kicking us in the pants; his overwhelming, in-your-face evangelism.

Paul tracks us down, haunts us until we listen, and rummages around our heart of hearts until we get it right. He’s a terrier for the gospel, a doggedly, unrelenting presence God puts in our lives.

This Paul, that puts Christ crucified front and center; puts font and table right out there for all to see; gifts from God for the people of God. Gifts of grace meant for each and every person. Paul knows who we must be and that living in the joy of our Lord is the central most important part of life and faith. Nothing will stop Paul from getting this Word across.

 

And why?

Because when we learn to grow-up in Jesus, we learn of a love that does for us what we cannot do for ourselves.

Hear the Good News:

You are sealed by the Holy Spirit and belong to Christ Jesus forever.

Like holding a child and whispering all of the dreams and possibilities for that child’s future, Paul picks us up, dusts us off, and sets us on the path of Christian maturity and growth.

Like a parent who brings their child to the Baptismal Font, encouraging and cheering all the way, Paul wakes us up, splashes us in the waters of baptism, just as the Spirit makes us one in Christ.

Because we are heirs according to the promise.

And that is Good News.

What better news could there be? [vii]

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ENDNOTES

[ii]  C.K. Robertson. A Dangerous Dozen: Twelve Christians Who Threatened the Status Quo but Taught Us to Live Like Jesus, Woodstock, Vermont:  SkyLight Paths Publishing, 2011.  

 

[iii] Adapted from Eugene Petersen’s The Message. Colorado Springs, CO:  NavPress, 1993, 394.

 

[iv] Project Runway: “You’re out. Auf Wiedersehen.” The Weakest Link: “You are the Weakest Link.” Big Brother House: “You’ve been evicted.” Survivor: “The tribe has spoken.” Top Chef: “Please pack your knives and go.” Rock of Love: “Your tour ends here.” The Apprentice:   “You’re fired! “Now get out!”

 

[v] Elisabeth Johnson. Commentary on Galatians 3:23-29, Workingpreacher.org, June 20, 2010.

 

[vi] Louise Penny. Still Life. New York: Minotaur Books, 2008.

 

[vii] Billy D. Strayhorn. “Heirs According to the Promise,” found in A Hope That Does Not Disappoint:  Second Lesson Sermons for Sundays after Pentecost (First Third) Cycle C. Lima, Ohio:  CSS Publishing Co., 2000.