Feb. 27, 2011

Critic or Judge?

1 Cor. 4:1-5

I’m sure you have all been waiting with bated breath for tonight. Well…maybe not, but tonight is the 83rd Academy Awards and the presentations of this year’s Oscars. As they’ve done for the last while, the Academy has nominated a whopping ten films for best picture. Ten, rather than the previous five, gets more films more hype, and is supposed to give a better chance for those dark horse films.

You’ve probably seen articles and interviews with movie critics in the lead up to the Oscars. We just heard another on the radio this morning. Can you imagine the life of a professional critic? These folk get paid to critique hundreds of movies each year. Then there’s music critics, arts critics, wine critics, I’ve even heard of a wine critic who developed an allergy to alcohol and became a professional bottled water critic!

With our 24/7 news culture these days, everyone’s a political critic. Last week I heard US Representative Keith Ellison from the cities speaking at an interfaith forum at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis. After his speech, Rep. Ellison took questions from the audience. As he answered — actually answered the questions honestly and openly, I found myself thinking, “Rep. Ellison — you better watch it, you’re going to get in trouble. You’re telling the truth!” Then I realized that, I have become so accustomed to our uber-critical political landscape that I was totally shocked when a US Representative actually spoke his mind in a public forum!

Everyone is a critic these days. Movie critic. Food critic. Political critic. Sometimes I’ll even get sent free books to criticize (to “review”) on my blog. Professor Lewis Smedes cautions, however:

A critic is one thing. A judge is another. Critics give us their own opinion, and it is up to us to take it or leave it. But judges are different; when they deliver their judgment, we have no choice, we simply have to take it. This is why [you should]: listen to your critics, but never let them be your judges.

Critics are fine, even helpful Smedes says. But don’t let a critic become your judge.

Paul wrestles with this distinction between critics and judges throughout his letters. Personally, Paul seems to have had some sort of disability — we don’t know exactly what, but he referred to it as, “a thorn in my flesh” and “my affliction.” Paul also admits he’s not the best public speaker. Plus, as a Roman citizen, he would have suffered great public critique for hanging out with the type of people he ministered to. Paul got criticized for his personal traits and decision all the time.

Paul also had to deal with the critiques of Cephas and Apollos, those other teachers that keep coming up in our trip through 1 Corinthians. In other letters, Paul really struggles with critics who say Jesus’ message of grace is only open to Jews, and not “gentile sinners.” Paul thought Jesus’ love was for all, but he took a lot of public criticism because of those views.

All that said, though, Paul writes in chapter four not about critics, but about judges. “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. I do not even judge myself….It is the Lord who judges me.” Boom! It is the Lord who judges me.

To use a spring training metaphor. It’s like Paul is taking batting practice and hits ten ground balls just barely through the infield. And then, on the next pitch, slams one out of the park to straightaway center. It is the Lord who judges me. Paul says. That’s the whopper. Criticize all you want, I’ve got much bigger fish to fry.

I suppose, if you think of the audience Paul is writing to in Corinth, this can come across as helpful or a tad arrogant, depending on your perspective. It’s helpful, if you think, “Hey, I hear you Paul, life is tough and all these guys are fighting with you over the details of this whole Jesus thing. So, yeah, I get your point — take a chill pill. Jesus is our foundation and the Lord judges. You don’t answer to Cephas or Apollos, you answer to the big guy upstairs.” I suppose this could cut through the hubbub of the arguments in the Corinthian church and be quite helpful.

Sometimes I feel this way after a long presbytery meeting or after a group of pastors gets together to argue about some details in the church. We can spend hours talking about the translation of one word from Greek, or about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, and forget Jesus broke it down pretty simple: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.”

So, Paul’s “It is the Lord who judges me” might cut through the Corinthian mud in a helpful way. Or, on the other hand, it might come across as arrogant. Those who received Paul’s letter could have thought Paul was just saying, “Forget you. Forget your measly worldly troubles. I only answer to God. I am bigger and better and smarter and more holy — The Lord is my judge.”

But, I don’t think that’s what Paul was saying. Kate Foster Connors thinks the benefit of Paul’s claims are two fold: “One, if God is the judge, then we do the best we can in our actions and decisions, for what we do and decide is for the glory of God; second, we do not have to make those judgments about ourselves or about other people.” So, in fact, Paul is not being arrogant, but open-minded. It’s up to God. It’s not my job to judge your eternal worth or worthiness of grace — the Lord is judge.

This all may or may not be helpful for you. Some of you just don’t bother much what other people think in the first place. So criticism isn’t much of your concern. But others of you — and I won’t name any names — put a lot of weight on what people think, on how people critique you.

Paul is far from a self-help guru. He just says it like it is, “Do not pronounce judgement before the time the Lord comes.” He doesn’t say, “don’t criticize.” Which is fair enough, because Paul, even though he is often criticized, is quite a critic himself.

A few years ago, I was a summer intern at a church in Decatur, Georgia with several other seminary students. A few times a week all the interns would gather with our supervisors and discuss what we were learning, how our preaching and teaching was going, and our general effectiveness. These were sometimes pretty intense conversations about our preparations as pastors. During one of these meetings one of the interns said, “I don’t mean to criticize, but….” And our supervisor interrupted her. “What do you mean, you ‘don’t mean to criticize?’ Sure you do mean to criticize. That’s fine, though, just be honest about it. Being critical is sometimes very important.”

That lesson has stuck with me, and certainly helps shed light on the distinction Paul deals with in his life as a religious leader. Criticism can be fine, but it’s different than the final judgement — that’s done by the Lord alone.

Last week I heard Terri Gross interviewing an author of book about a single mother raising a daughter by herself. They talked about the challenge of society’s single mother stigma, the practicalities of balancing work and motherhood, and also, now that the author’s daughter is a teenager, about how to deal with current-day teenage girl culture.

The author joked, “Every mother is doomed to some day say the exact words that hated when she was growing up: ‘You are not going out wearing that.’” But she also talked about how, as a mother dealing with a precocious teenager, much of the challenge in life is learning to pick your battles, to pick the times you criticize. The author said, if she was critical about every little thing — her daughter’s obsession with Justin Bieber, how much time she spend on the phone, other littler things, then she wouldn’t be heard on the truly important things like values and safety and education. She had learned how to pick her times to criticize very carefully.

Each of us is different and receives criticism from different sources. For some of us, our toughest critic is in our family. For others, it’s staring back at us when we look in the mirror. Some people are much harder on themselves than anyone else. And, for others, critics come in the form of friends, teammates, co-workers, even enemies.

Criticism is tricky, because often it can be a good thing, a blessing. I wouldn’t go so far as to say movie critics’ reviews are blessings, but they can help a good small budget film like The King’s Speech make it to Oscar night. Critiques by some friends, family, and co-workers can be really helpful. They can keep us in check.

On the other hand, criticism can be unfair and uncalled for and hurtful.

Paul, often criticized himself, is trying to rise above his critics in 1 Corinthians 4. Judgement, not criticism, is more powerful, Paul says. And judgement, thank goodness, is up to God.

Criticize away, Paul says. Just don’t judge. For my judge is the Lord my God. I’m not aware of anything against me, but that’s not the point — I’m not off scott free either. It is the Lord who judges. The Lord is coming. He’ll take are of it. Then each one will receive a commendation from God.

As we try to live lives faithful to God, we’re liable to come across criticism, plenty of criticism. Some will be good and a blessing. Other will be too harsh, untruthful, a curse. That’s a battle and a balance we all must face, but we can do it remembering Paul’s words to the Corinthians. Paul’s instructions to rise above the criticism and remember the Lord our God. Judgement is not ours to offer.

Judgement comes from God. And thank goodness, because God sees past the worldly critiques. God’s judgement is in Jesus Christ whose grace is for the whole world. God’s judgement, Paul knows, is something we can depend on, something we can trust in.

Thanks be to God, our Lord, our love, our judge. Amen.

February 13, 2011

Growing Up With God

1 Cor. 3:1-9

A few years ago now, the presbytery surrounding metro Atlanta declared a goal of increasing the number of adult baptisms in year by 10%. In a presbytery that large, they figured, there were too few growing churches and too few people coming to understand that they are claimed and loved by God.

In Atlanta (here too, but especially in a metro area like that) there are many people who grow up without any church influence. They’re never baptized as children. According to a recent study, about 25% of college freshman across the country have never even attended a worship service, let alone call them believers. And so, the presbyters of greater Atlanta made the goal of increasing the number of adult baptisms, of increasing the number of people who understand Jesus Christ as their Lord even though they didn’t attend church growing up.

There’s no real way to know for sure, but we can guess that most of the people in the church in Corinth were like these Christians the Presbytery of Greater Atlanta is seeking. They most certainly didn’t grow up with great-grandparents who told them about Jesus — Jesus wasn’t even born yet! Some of them grew up Jewish. Some of them were Gentiles and perhaps believed in others gods. But, relatively few, we can figure, were baptized as infants. Most of them came to the faith later in life, so as adults they were still very much working-out their beliefs. That’s what we’ve encountered again and again in these first few chapters of 1 Corinthians that we’ve been reading for the past few weeks — a new faith community wrestling with their beliefs.

Faith is something that should grow with the person; faith is age-appropriate. The faith of children, though beautiful, probably can’t tackle the questions adults are wrestling with.

It makes me think of the children’s sermon during which the pastor explained that the kids could talk to God, and they could even write God letters and tell God how they were doing. So, he gave the children some paper to write letters to God and bring back the next week. The next Sunday, he asked if he could read their letters in church. The first one read: “Dear God, We had a great time in church today. Wish you could have been there.” Faith grows; it’s like a good cheese or good wine, ideally it matures.

Paul gets it. Paul understands age-appropriate faith lessons and the challenge of wrestling with adulthood faith. He tries to write the Corinthians in a way that they could understand. Paul seems to think their faith is still maturing, still searching, and he needs to set the basics out again:

“I could not speak to you as spiritual people, but rather as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ” he says, “I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready.” Paul explains they’re still arguing over who belongs to whom, who follows Paul or Cephas or Apollos and they’re missing the mark that it’s not about those teachers, it’s about God.

If we’re honest we can admit that we in the church today can still lose our focus and get sucked-up by battles that take our focus off of God. We miss the forest for the trees and think God cares more about old purity codes than loving each other.

I remember the story told by John Bell about a church in Scotland that needed to remodel and update their sanctuary. Most everyone agreed that the over 50 year-old drapes and broken pews needed to be scrapped, but one lady refused. She insisted that she could only worship in that exact pew because, “My family has sat here in this very pew for more than five generations.” She refused to allow any changes to be made and the renovation of the sanctuary was becoming a flashpoint for controversy. Well, one day the Clerk of the Session was looking through old minutes and he found something very interesting. The records indicated that 25 years before, the pews had all been removed from the church for maintenance. While they were at the wood shop, there was a fire and all of them went up in flames. The pews were then replaced by a different set from another old church, and not only that, when they were placed in the sanctuary they were put back in a different format. It turned out that the congregation was fighting about renovating pews that actually weren’t theirs in the first place, and weren’t set up in the some way as some said they’d been for hundreds of years. It’s a sad story, really, but it gets at our inclinations to claim old ideas, or family history, or even a flawed understanding of the past over God.

Paul gets at this point by asking the Corinthians to consider their spiritual leaders. “What then is Apollos?” he asks. “Who is Paul?” We’re servants of the Lord, Paul says. Sure, you heard the gospel from us, but it was God’s doing.

“I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” And then I love this next line: “So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but (it’s) only God who gives the growth.”

While this exact wording didn’t come up at my hymnal committee meeting this past week in Louisville, the general idea was really common. One of the things we do as a committee is carefully study the texts of new hymns and songs submitted to make sure they exist in the framework of Reformed theology. Often our internal red flags will go up when we come across hymns that make saving the world or becoming more holy our own doing. Paul is crystal clear about this. Paul wants to be sure that the Corinthians understand it’s not his or anyone’s actions, not his or anyone’s decisions, not his or anyone’s choice that made them to grow in the faith. It’s God. Paul says. The seed came from God in the first place. All Paul did was help put it in the soil. All Apollos did was water. But, really, in and through all of that is God’s actions. God gives the growth.

Note that Paul doesn’t say God micro-manages ever millimeter of seed growth and rain fall. Paul sees himself and Apollos and the other apostles as important partners in God’s work, but he wants to be very clear that it’s God’s work — not theirs — that’s the point.

Think of the way some professional athletes speak of God and God’s blessing. Though I can’t a particular example from last week’s Super Bowl, I’m sure there were plenty.

Paul would be utterly dumb-founded by athletes who praise themselves or give all glory to their own athleticism because, Paul would figure — God was the one who gave those gifts in the first place.

But, on the other hand, Paul would also push-back against athletes who try to totally pass off their own acts or failures as God’s. God gave you those gifts, so use them to give glory to God, Paul might say. Don’t blame God when you drop a pass, work harder.

Today’s portion of 1 Corinthians ends with Paul trying to level the playing field, so to speak. “For we are all God’s servants, working together” he says. Paul emphasizes a partnership, saying it’s God who activates all our growth, but that we partner in the process.

Casey and Dale today take new steps in their faith journey and their growth with God. As we ordain and install Casey as an elder, and as we install Dale to a new term as Deacon, we do so acknowledging it is God who helped them grow.

They were baptized many years ago. Their faith has grown in Hallock and beyond. And now, they are being called to a new form of service. As they serve as an Elder and Deacon, Paul would want to make two things abundantly clear. 1) they serve to the glory of God who has helped them grow to become who they are today and 2) to truly serve as God’s servants, they must do so in partnership — partners with God, surely, but partners with God’s people and God’s creation in this place.

As we grow in faith with Casey and Dale, we can give thanks to God for God’s many gifts to us. But we can also put ourselves in places where our faith might be watered — like in worship, in coffee hour fellowship, in Bible studies, in personal devotion and prayer time, even in tough discussions that challenge our faith. We can put ourselves in places of loving one another, and of cherishing God’s creation.

We do all this, not because we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking we can grow our own faith. But because, we trust in God’s word in holy scripture, that it is God who causes growth. Amen.

June 27, 2010

Set Free for Freedom

Gal. 5:1, 13-25

Most of the time, I choose my texts for preaching based on the Revised Common Lectionary. The lectionary is a list of texts for each sunday that thousands of churches around the world use each week. I like the lectionary because it challenges (or forces) me to preach on different texts than I might otherwise. This is one of those sermons. I’ll be at our PC(USA) General Assembly next Sunday — July 4th — and I have to admit, I was perfectly fine getting out of the tricky business of preaching on a US holiday.

On Independence Day we celebrate our Americanness, our heritage and patriotism. It’s a messy Sunday on which to preach because the gospel of Christ isn’t really about our American identity at all. So I was perfectly happy that coincidentally my General Assembly assignment would call me away from the pulpit on July 4th. And then I read the lectionary passage today from Galatians and thought, “Geez, either God or those lectionary compilers really has a sense of humor — probably both.”

Were you listening? As we prepare for the July 4th celebration of our free country, we read from Galatians 5 that’s all about, well, freedom. Turns out I didn’t miss the tension July 4th brings at all.

Maybe this is because freedom isn’t really an American concept — well, it certainly is an American value, but it’s not solely an American one. The story of the Hebrew people in the Old Testament tells of a man named Moses whom God chose to lead the Israelites from their slavery to freedom. “Let my people go” Moses told Pharaoh, and eventually they were given liberty.

Jesus talked about freedom too. In John he said, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Jesus modeled for us a life lived freely and completely before God.

Freedom is not unique to one country. Heck, consider our country’s history in which Africans were brought to our so-called “free country” and sold into slavery. And ironically, astoundingly, what kept many of those slaves going was their Christian faith in a liberating God, a God who would break down the barriers set up by their white (often Christian) owners.

Freedom. It’s American, but not only. Freedom. It’s Christian but not simply. Freedom.

Paul writes in Galatians, “For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery” (Gal 5:1).

In The Freedom of the Christian, Martin Luther wrote, “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. [and at the same time] A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.” Both perfectly free, subject to none and perfectly dutiful, servant of all. Sound like a paradox…what gives?

Let’s take a look at this Galatians passage and see what Paul is up to. Remember the context we talked about a few weeks ago. Things are a little off in the church in Galatia. Factions are fighting over this and that, but the main question seems to be this: do the Gentiles who have come to believe in Jesus Christ, do the Gentiles have to become Jews to follow God…or can they just be Jesus-believing Gentiles? If they had to become Jews, then they would have to be circumcised and follow all the Jewish laws and practices.

(This analogy is a little weak, but it’s sort of like, during the World Cup now that the US is knocked out, when two teams of other countries are playing and you’re watching. Can you root for one team or another without losing your American identity and support for the US team? Paul says sure you can, but some other groups are saying, “no way Jose. You can’t root for another team unless you totally become one of us, move to our country, become a citizen, enroll with the Selective Service, the whole nine yards.)

Paul is pretty clear about his position: Gentiles don’t you dare submit yourselves to more rules and regulations, he says. By Christ you are made free. Don’t be a slave to the law. By Christ you are called to freedom!

Then Paul describes what sort of freedom this freedom in Christ turns out to be. Sometimes when we think of freedom we think blank slate, anything goes, whatever works type freedom. I once heard this artist being interviewed about his childhood. I don’t remember the name of the scholar, but his parents followed this professor guy who advocated that the best way to raise children was to give them complete freedom. You were to never tell your child “no.” Now you could explain why a decision might not be a smart one — “Timmy, I don’t think you would like touching that stove right now because it is very hot and the nerves in your skin would cause a painful feeling if you touched the hot stove” — but this parenting philosophy said you could never say “no” to your child. Your children were to have complete freedom in their decisions.

This guy who was being interviewed, reflecting on his upbringing, seemed amazingly well-adjusted given his parents’ philosophy. He said his parents were almost completely consistent and supportive of the philosophy until the day his brother made some cardboard wings and climbed up on the roof ready to fly. His mother couldn’t say he wasn’t allowed to try to fly by jumping off roof. He had the freedom to attempt it. But, after a very short flight, and on the way to the hospital, his mother started really doubting this completely free approach to parenting.

The freedom Paul writes of is not a no-holds-bar open-ended freedom, but one grounded in love. “Don’t use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence,” Paul writes, “but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”

The way Paul sees it, you’ve got two options when you live in freedom. You can live by the Spirit or you can live by the flesh. Now this spirit/flesh distinction is tricky, because it’s not what we first think about, probably. It’s decidedly not the case, for Paul, that “flesh” means things of the body and “spirit” means things of the mind or heart. No, as George Stroup explains, the spirit/flesh distinction goes more like: “to live in the world in the power of the flesh is to live in bondage to sin, turned away from God and neighbor. To live in the world in the power of the Spirit of Christ is to live joyously before God and freely with one’s neighbors” [Before God, p. 130].

Paul uses those long lists, the works of the flesh and the fruit of the Spirit. Paul isn’t saying that the works of the flesh have to do with your body — in fact, most of them idolatry, enmities, strife, anger, jealousy, quarrels, factions — have to with how we live in community.

Paul isn’t saying you’ve got two options for your freedom: your body which is bad and your spirit is good. Instead, he’s calling folks to freely use their bodies, hearts, mind, soul and strength to live in the freedom of Christ. And truly living free lives for Christ produces the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Did you catch that? This freedom thing isn’t really about personal freedom, not really. Freedom in Christ is always about how we live in community, how we love one another, how we act peacefully with self-control towards each other. Reinhold Niebuhr put it this way, “Basically love means…being responsible, responsible to our family, toward our civilization, and now by the pressures of history, toward the universe of humankind.”

So we’re beginning to see what Martin Luther meant when he said we are both perfectly free, subject to none and perfectly dutiful, servant of all. This section of Paul’s letter to the Galatians ends with the call to live by and be guided by the Spirit. Christian freedom doesn’t let us off the hook, it’s freedom for, freedom for love, service, the glory of God.

The same general concept is true, I think, of our freedom as American citizens. Some of our greatest rights and privileges in this powerful nation is our freedom to act, to organize, to keep making our country a better place to live and work — not just for us as individuals, but for the whole community. We squander that freedom when we rest on our laurels because our lives are easy enough, or our freedoms are safe enough.

We always ought to be working, as Christians and as Americans, for a country that is concerned for the least of these, caring for each and every of our neighbors, fruitful and just not only for the rich and powerful, but for the poor and lowly.

Many preachers will talk about American as a “chosen people,” but I like how the preacher Joanna Adams puts it when she calls the United States a “servant people.” She says we are “called to be a servant people” then uses the words of scripture, a servant people “bringing good news to the oppressed, modeling justice, proclaiming liberty to the captives.”

A servant people — both free, and slave to all. A servant people — both grateful for what’s given to us, and quite aware that our nation is nowhere close to perfection. A servant people — free to serve, free to live for one another, free to love God and neighbor with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. Freed to be Christ’s servant, now and forever. Amen.

Romans 12:1-8
August 24, 2008
First Presbyterian Church, Tallahassee, Florida

One Body in Christ

Whatever happened to lazy August? You remember, back in the day when school started following Labor Day. When summer’s slower pace and relaxed attitude lasted clear to when you could turn the air conditioning off. August’s of old, without tropic storms and flood waters. August, when the news cycle slowed, and family vacations reigned. Oh, lazy August, where did you go?

Today, August 24th, public schools are back in session. Summer vacations are only a memory. The rain continues to fall, and have you been following the news? Newscasters in August 2008 have been busier than mice in a cheese factory.

The olympics have conducted a hostile takeover of NBC…and MSNBC, and USA, and CNBC, and some other networks I’d never even heard of.

Then there’s the far-too-real hostile takeover of Georgia by Russia.

And if you get tired of the Olympics coverage, or overwhelmed by war updates, just turn the channel to politics. You’d think the election was September 4th, not November 4th. The Democrats are scaling the Mile High City, while the Republicans are skiing over the frozen tundra to St. Paul.

And I’m afraid, in August 2008, if we look closely at our culture, amidst all the busyness we’ll see a deep brokenness. We sure are busy, but we’re also hiding many bruises.

Nations rise up against nations. Swords are drawn and wielded in the US political process. A root has risen up in Beijing amidst reports of closed door agreements over previously sacred human rights.

And then we read Paul. As usual, meddling with our worldview, transforming our all-to-conformed thoughts. Paul writes,

For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members of one another.

I’m sorry, but Paul must be mistaken. I mean, he wasn’t writing in August of 2008. He didn’t know the issues we face today. We who are many, are one body in Christ?! Not with the Olympics playing, the US staring down China for the most medals. Not with party conventions designed to break the country into red states and blue states, values voters and working class Hillary supporters. Not when the Russian behemoth flexes it bear-like muscles.

We who are many, are one?! Paul is so yesterday. In August 2008, if you ask me, Paul is really showing his age.

Atlanta’s newspaper last week contained an article on the continuing sad saga of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial planned for the Mall in Washington, D.C. Have you heard of the struggles? First, the King children tried to swindle a licensing fee for the use of Dr. King’s image in publications raising money to build a national memorial of Dr. King himself. The Memorial Foundation refused to pay the children, saying it wasn’t out for profit, just to fund a monument in King’s honor. Eventually, the King family backed off.

Then last year, another controversy arose, this time over the choice of the sculptor for the monument. Selected for his artistic ability and experience, a committee of mostly African-Americans chose Lei Yikin for the project, a sculptor from, you guessed it, the People’s Republic of China. Days later American protesters raged. The Washington Post carried the headline, “A King Statue ‘Made in China?’” Letters to the editor poured in, fuming that a Chinese master sculptor was chosen rather than an United States citizen.

“I have a dream” King said, “that my children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

We’re making progress, perhaps, but King’s monument itself reminds us we’re not there yet.
We who are many, are one?! Maybe in your day, Paul, but not August 2008.

A report last week on the olympic basketball game between China and the US reminded me of a story told by a friend of mine who participated in a student exchange with China during college. The reporter described how some Chinese young adults gathered together to watch the game, many many friends crowding an already crowded dorm room. The eager fans scrunched cross-legged on the floor, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder. The reporter noted how tightly they were squeezed into the room. How Americans would never put up with such encroachments in our personal space.

After my friend studied in China, a Chinese student returned with him to study in America. When my American friend showed the Chinese student an American dorm room, the student asked, “But where are your roommates?”

“Oh, he’s in class at the moment.”

“But where are the others?”

“No others, I just have one roommate.” The eyes of the Chinese student grew wide.

“In a room this size in China,” the student remarked, “10 or 12 students would share the space.” The room was a typical US dorm room. Students would be up in arms if even three had to share.

We who are many, are one?! Not when individualism drives American culture, architecture, design, personal habits, and infrastructure. We who are many, are one?! Not when each American household has 3 TVs but can’t call their next door neighbors by name. Not when we, those of us who go to church, drive by dozens of other Christian gatherings before arriving at the church home that makes us feel most comfortable.

We who are many, are one?! Paul, oh, Paul, what were you thinking?

And we can’t explain away Paul’s difficult instructions by saying, “Well in Paul’s time there weren’t as many cultural differences between communities.” Or, “Paul knew the Roman church really well so he could push them out of their comfort zone.”

Nope. When he wrote Romans, Paul had never stepped foot in a Roman church. They may have been partners in the faith, but they were strangers in the flesh. Paul had no qualms to preach the gospel he knew to be true. To witness to Christ, even if it rankled some feathers.
We who are many, are one Paul wrote, going on to describe the different gifts of each of us. But why are we one?

Paul says, not because it’s politically correct to be non-judgmental. Not because Asia’s communitarian spirit may have something to teach us. We who are many, are one not because it makes us feel good, or sounds nice, or because it fits on a bumper sticker. Not because it makes a touching Olympic slogan, or gets someone elected. Not because it appeals to our American ideals. Not because anything that we do, or feel, or initiate. We who are many, are one because…. because of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen from the dead.

Seminary classes inevitably bring about plenty of awkward moments. One of my favorites occurs when a professor asks a particularly difficult question to the class. “Why do you think that Greek word is a objective rather than subjective genitive?” “What did Karl Barth say about the problems of natural theology?” “What must you always remember when teaching adult education classes?”
And, following these difficult open-ended questions, the class will become painfully silent. Students will rack their brains for the answer, someone will nervously flip through the text book, and then, with hesitation, a quiet voice from the back of the room will say, Jesus?

For Paul, Jesus is almost always the answer. We who are many, are one because we have all been claimed by Christ.

In Jesus Christ, God’s loving purpose for the world is fully revealed. In Jesus Christ, are sins are wiped away and we are shown how truly to live in justice, goodness, and peace.
Paul begins chapter 12 with the simple word, “therefore,” but it’s on that hinge that his entire argument rests.

I appeal to you, THEREFORE, brother and sisters, by the mercies of God, Paul writes.

Paul writes 11 chapters explaining Christ’s love and sacrifice, and at the therefore he makes his pivot. Act therefore, Paul pleads, in response to Jesus Christ who has already come and turned the world upside down.

Earlier Paul writes, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts….THEREFORE

The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus set me free from the law of sin and death….THEREFORE

While we were still helpless, Christ died for the ungodly…God shows God’s love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us…THEREFORE

Because of God’s revelation of love in Jesus Christ, we are called not to be shaped by the world–conformed to the world–but to be transformed, to be shaped by grace. The shape of grace that shows God’s inclusive love for all creation.

For we who are many, are one body in Christ. We’re one body in Christ even in the election season when our differences become clear and our spirits challenged. We’re one body in Christ even during the Olympics when countries compete for glory over one another. We’re one body in Christ even and especially when war rages and governments do little to stem the flow of blood. That reality is tough to envision now, but it’s our call to work for it with all we have. For one day, God will gather together every nation on earth, and together with Republicans and Democrats, Russians and Georgians, Kings and Chinese college students, we will all sing God’s praises.

Because of Jesus Christ, how are you transforming your world? In relationships. At the office. Through international partnerships. Through teaching our children. Shaped by grace, how does your life testify to Paul’s ageless call, We who are many, are one body in Christ.

In his book Christian Doctrine, Shirley Guthrie describes the perfect community, the divine community of the Trinity, and in doing so calls us all to service.

Guthrie writes, “If in the divine community [Father, Son, and Holy Spirit] there is no above and below, superior and inferior, but only the free society of equals who are different from each other but live together in mutual openness, respect, and self-giving love, so it is in a truly human society of people who are sexually, politically, and religiously different from each other.”

Friends in Christ, in August 2008 Paul is as contemporary as can be. Therefore, we are all, one body, in Christ.

Amen.

photo by chapstickaddict

click above for audio

Whew, definitely not sure about this one, but I got more positive comments than usual (which probably just means people are happy to see me go next week;) ) Several interesting homiletical issues in the sermon.  First, it deals with two texts which I always find so tricky because it’s easy to shortchange each or have them talk to each other in ways either too simple or too fake.  Second, it’s a teaching sermon rather than a “go do this” sermon.  The topic makes it such, but so also the theological content with which I bet most are unfamiliar.  Apparently the ten commandments are rarely discussed at St. C, if at all.  Third, one must be careful when dealing with OT Law and NT Gospel and not pulling the age-old heresy of a split between the God of the OT and Christ of the NT.  Finally, it’s a Lutheran sermon format with a Presbyterian third use of the law ending (ok, I’m a huge nerd).  The form is: 1) Law, 2) Gospel, 3) Law revisited in light of Gospel to find that the Law really is Gospel to begin with–and that’d be Calvin’s third and and primary use of the law.  Whew…and it has jokes too:) and somebody yelled out when I mentioned Bush, hilarious.

Ayr: St. Columba Church
11:15 am Worship Service

Adam J. Copeland

Singing the Commandments
Exodus 20:1-17, Romans 6:1-11

After going-on ten months in Scotland, it’s an interesting practice to reflect back on life in the US. As happens when living abroad, my perspective of my own country has significantly changed.

For example, I will never look at an American nicely written, clearly displayed street sign the same way again. After ten months of driving all over Ayr, passing street after street, turning around, and then again, trying to find a street sign that might be a foot off the ground on a wall, or thirty feet up on a house, or hiding behind an overgrown hedge, or just not there at all, I have gained a new appreciation for America’s street signs and simple street numbering system.

I’ll miss many Scottish things, of course, like fish and chips, constant cups of tea, Scottish cheese (which I think is completely under-appreciated), folks actually driving the speed limit (thanks to speed cameras, mind you), fantastic golf courses, having four seasons in a day–ok, I won’t miss that, but Scotland’s weather does instill a certain go-with-the-flow approach to Scottish culture which I will miss.

I’ll return to the states with a renewed sense of how enormous America is, with a reminder that though Americans complain about our petrol prices, they’re only about half us much as Scotland’s, and thankfully, the with knowledge that at least the majority of some country can see what a disastrous president George Bush has been.

And when I return to the states, I may be struck by the many plaques, posters, billboards, and monuments that display the Ten Commandments. I can’t recall seeing a list of the commandments at all during my time in Scotland, but at home you’ll be driving down the highway and see a billboard with them, or your neighbor may have a list of them in his yard, and especially if you live in the south, you may find the ten commandments on the wall in the courthouse, or on a towering monument in the town square.

When I see these displays of the ten commandments, I’ll see them with new eyes after having lived in Scotland for nearly a year. And I’ll wonder, “What do these displays mean?” There’s many possible interpretations.

Maybe these displays of the ten commandments serve as a reminder of America’s history, of our Judeo-Christian foundation, that the folks who founded America did so with certain religious principles in mind.

Or maybe the displays of the ten commandments represent our best hopes for the country. American culture has always had a certain idealism, a belief in the inherent goodness of our neighbors, a hopeful attitude that hard work and wholesome values will lead to a better tomorrow for our children. Maybe the ten commandment monuments are an expression of that hope. That when we are at our best, we follow these commands.

On the other hand, maybe the plaques and monuments are pointing in another direction. Maybe they serve as testaments to how we’ve lost our way–DO NOT KILL as a indictment of the war in Iraq, DO NOT WORSHIP IDOLS as a word against our consumeristic culture, DO NOT COVET as a rebuke of our addiction to other people’s oil, goods, and labor.

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When I came to Scotland, I didn’t know quite what to expect of the Church of Scotland. I didn’t know Ayr nor St. Columba, all I could really do was imagine a stereotype the Church of Scotland.

As I came to know you more, that stereotype gradually faded away, but it also seems to have been one based in some reality–mostly of the past, and of some churches in Scotland today.

That stereotype of the Church of Scotland was one of a church that preached hellfire and brimstone, in which every sermon somehow got back to sin, our moral depravity, and preachers emphasized, every Sunday, sin, and hell, and our lost ways. Thank goodness this is not Fraser’s approach, nor, as far as I can tell, the approach of any minister I’ve met. Certainly, it doesn’t do anyone any good to preach sin sin sin every week ad infinitim. Thank goodness that’s a danger now mainly avoided.

But, there’s another extreme which we must not venture toward either: the danger of becoming so positive, so affirming, that we forget that we make mistakes, we separate ourselves from God, we do not lives worthy of the calling to which we have been called.

Certainly we don’t need to place the ten commandments on Ayr High Street, or Burns Statue Square, but it would do us well to remember God’s commands, to reflect on how we fall short of our best hopes for ourselves, and God’s greatest desires as well.

The first four commandments,

• you shall have no other gods before me
• do not worship idols
• do not take the name of the Lord in vain
• honor the sabbath, and keep it holy

These first four commandments have to do with how we relate to God. And if we’re being honest, we probably hear a bit of a rebuke in there.

In today’s world, it’s so easy to place other gods of consumerism, or fashion, or family, or social standing before God, the Lord. We worship the idols of television personalities, football players’ weddings, and take the name of the Lord in vain when we give ultimate power to money or goods, rather than God.

And we probably don’t fare too well with the last six commandments either.

• honor your father and your mother sounds good, and we try, but certainly we fall short of giving true respect to those who deserve it
• do not kill stands as a daily reminder against our global-warming lifestyles
• we commit adultery in our wide variety of unfaithful relationships

And on and on and on…

Thank goodness that old stereotype of the damning Church of Scotland minister doesn’t function any more, because I don’t know about you, but I’d get depressed hearing that every week, weekly reminded of our inability to escape our basic sinful condition.

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In this morning’s second reading, we look in on Paul and the Christian community in Rome. Chapter 6 picks up just as Paul makes an essential pivot in his argument.

You see, the Romans were struck by this same sinful condition in which we find ourselves, in which the whole world finds itself. The Romans must have had a newage Church of Scotland preacher the week before, because they seemed to be stuck less on sin, and more on Jesus.

They were thinking, wait a second, if Jesus Christ died that I might have life, if Jesus Christ wiped away all my sins, if Jesus’ love is so great that God forgives all–now and forever–then what’s to stop me from sinning away, from breaking the commandments, because we are assured that in Jesus we are forgiven.

Paul puts the question this way, “Should we continue in sin that grace may abound?”

By no means! he says. Heck no!

Paul is certain that because of Christ, we too might walk in newness of life, changed, restored, renewed to a new way of living in Christ.

[this section influenced by Bartlett's presentation of general knowledge at WorkingPreacher.com]

Paul explains this change several ways, but his main description is baptism. In our baptisms, we are baptized into Christ’s death. In our baptisms, we are sealed into Christ’s love. In our baptisms into Christ, we have been freed from our old ways and are no longer enslaved to sin, for we live with Christ.

Some baptismal rituals emphasize just this dramatic change. Some churches ask the those about to be baptized to face the west, where darkness sets, and they ask the questions, “Do you turn from evil and sin?” “Do renounce the devil and all his ways?” And the person to be baptized stamps a foot at each answer, physically representing the renunciation. And then the whole party turns to face East, the direction of the rising sun, and the newly baptized confesses faith in Jesus Christ. The physical turning from evil and to Christ symbolizes the change Christ already made for us.

Paul shouts it over and over again: something has changed. In Christ, we have been made new. In Christ, our sins have been washed away. In Christ, we see a new way to live.

Our baptism signals this change. Turning away from evil and towards Christ.

Or, as the Romans may have done, being fully emerged in the baptismal river and coming up sopping wet, wholly different, putting on a white robe to signify in Christ, something has changed.

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Paul emphasized baptism, but he doesn’t stay there. His argument flows on and he writes, “But if we have died with Christ (in baptism), we believe that we will also live with him.”

We wish to live with Christ. We do live with Christ. We live with Christ as our leader and the commandments as our guide.

By virtue of our baptism, we have been freed to live out the gospel, freed to follow the commandments not out of fear, but in response to God in Christ.

When we approach the commandments as good guides for living, they take on a positive, freeing, uplifting tone.

Do not kill becomes also a good guide to live with respect towards one another, to treat one another as equals, to honor life in all its fulness, that God forbids us to harm one another because we are all created in God’s image, all precious and loved by God.

One can read all the commandments in this way. Do not lie reminds us to use our words carefully, respectfully, with love and honesty. Do not commit adultery points us to healthy relationships with all God’s children. And so on…Living in response to Christ, living still wet from our baptisms, approaches the commandments as teaching tools for healthy living.
Those American ten commandments monuments are still rather difficult to understand, but they remind me of another culture’s tradition, that of singing the commandments.

Singing the ten commandments to a light folk tune. Singing the ten commandments with a rhythm in your heart, a lilt in your step. Singing the ten commandments because Christ calls us to live in him. Singing the ten commandments in response to Christ’s great gift. Singing sopping wet from our baptisms, full of gospel love.

Now that’s a stereotype with which all Christians can be proud.

To the God of all grace,
who calls you to share God’s eternal glory
in union with Christ
be the power forever! Amen.

I was fascinated to hear comments at the door, however, as they were quite different than usual.  I got several, “That really made me think” or “I’ll have to think about that.”  And many, “You were really thought provoking.”  I much rather get these than, “I enjoyed that” but I’m looking forward to getting my committee’s feedback for more details.

Gospel Foolishness

1 Corinthians 1:18-31

I don’t claim to understand British politics of today, let alone those of years past. But I did find David Owen’s analysis of Tony Blair in last Sunday’s Times rather fascinating. Lord Owen, former foreign secretary and a medical doctor, has written a book entitled, “In Sickness and in Power,” chronicling illness in the heads of government over the past 100 years.

In the excerpt published in the Times under the headline “Inside Blair’s Brain,” Lord Owen describes the symptoms of Tony Blair’s supposed illness, particularly in regards to the invasion of Iraq. These symptoms include:

• the unwillingness to explore difficult issues regarding the invasion of Iraq in manners that might draw out criticisms of Blair’s own position
• the firm belief in his purpose despite evidence to the contrary
• total confidence in himself mixed with a restless, hyperactive manner

Lord Owen, in the paper, diagnoses Blair not with high blood pressure, or a genetic disease, not with diabetes or shingles, but with hubris syndrome, described as excessive self-confidence, restlessness, and inattention to detail.

Owen understands Tony Blair, leading up to the war in Iraq, to have been operating under the influence of a different sort of wisdom than that which got Blair to Downing Street in the first place. Blair perceived a wisdom, but if it was a wisdom at all, it was flawed and incomplete.

Paul, when writing to the church in Corinth, knew nothing of Sadaam Hussein, WMDs, Sunnis or Shias. But Paul did know plenty about perceived wisdom and its strange ways in the world. You see, the church in Corinth was fighting amongst itself. Different leaders thought they had the corner on the truth, and were speaking out against other church leaders. They argued over who had the right gospel, about who’s interpretation of the cross was flawed. And then Paul comes along and says, “No no, you’ve got it all wrong. This is not about you and your petty arguments. You’re too focused on human wisdom. The true gospel is about the power of Christ and the wisdom of God.”

Well, that sounds ok doesn’t it? This is church after all, we’re supposed to talk about Christ and God’s wisdom. I can imagine Blair nodding away, the Corinthians sitting back and figuring Paul’s rebuke wouldn’t be too bad.

And then Paul goes on to explain the strange and surprising wisdom of God. Then things start to get a bit messy, eyebrows begin to raise, a few feet start fidgeting, for Paul does not comfort with cool assurances–everything will be alright, Jesus is your best friend, just come to church pay your pledge, sit back relax and enjoy the show.

No, Paul does what Paul does best: Paul complicates matters immensely.

In thirteen verses, Paul uses the Greek word for “foolishness” or “folly” six times.

“For the message about the cross is folly” he begins. A verse later Paul asks, “Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” And later, Paul says God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom.

Foolishness. Folly. Absurdity. What kind of wisdom is that? Paul is neither tame nor tepid. We in the American south have a word for what Paul’s up to, it’s used sometimes to describe preachers who get a bit too good for their own good–Paul is meddling.

• Oh, don’t you meddle with my hard-earned retirement fund Paul.

• Oh Paul, you can preach the gospel, but don’t you worry about how I spend my free time.

• Paul, watch it now, don’t you meddle with my responsibilities for the poor–I already wrote a check.

Friends, we better look out, Paul’s preaching God’s wisdom as foolishness. I’d say it’s safer for us just not to pay attention. Foolishness? That sounds a bit too radical for church.

There’s something particular to the British character that fears foolishness. British culture is prim and proper, it colors inside the lines, it enjoys a civilized cup of tea, it values precision, reason, and logic. The popularity of books, though declining in the US, continues to rise in Britain. Let’s be honest, none of us likes wants to be thought of as foolish, that’s elementary, my dear Watson.

But–I’m sorry to say–Paul does not write about British (or American) order, precision, or etiquette. Rather Paul writes of a wisdom of God that is inherently un-comfortable, up-setting, im-proper. God’s wisdom, turns upside-down everything we thought we knew about the world. God’s wisdom takes its power in Christ nailed to the cross, it laughs at proper manners, God’s wisdom shows its love in humility on a bloody tree.

Paul writes, “The world failed to find God by its wisdom, so God chose by the folly of the gospel to save those who have faith.”

The message of the cross as sheer folly. Christ crucified as foolishness. Paul’s at it again. Or rather, God is meddling, and we better look out.

God’s wisdom, you see, is not what we expect. We would figure God to align with the powerful of Jesus’ day, to show God’s power in superior strength, to fight to the last and overthrow the powers of Rome, to claim the human throne as human leaders have done for years.

Foolishness: God came to accept torture and execution.
Foolishness: God showed love not by beating humanity, but by showing us the way to live.
Foolishness: God contradicts the dominate understandings of what is godly–strength, power, supposed superiority.

Professor Paul Fiddes comments, “By choosing to reveal himself fully in a crucified man God contradicts all notions of what it means to be ‘divine’; by becoming weak and a prey to death God makes foolish the wisdom of this world which understands power to be the ability to inflict suffering, or at least to escape from it.”

So I wonder, with what power do we align ourselves? Are we happy to be seen as worldy wise, as indistinguishable from our neighbor? Are our churches just another social club, doling out funding to charities when our excess allows. Or are we living the gospel of foolishness?

A few years ago, the Church of Scotland General Assembly took, head-on, the problem of filling rural charges. As I understand it, at that time ministers looking for a new charge were less likely to take a call to a rural church as the compensation was much lower than other charges. So the General Assembly decided to make the salaries of all ministers equal, no matter whether they served a rural parish, or one in the financial district of Glasgow. Gospel foolishness, they thought.

A few years later, however, churches have found ways around this foolish even playing field. Congregations are buying large, beautiful manses with every mod con available. Come to our church, we have a manse with six bedrooms. Come to our church, we have Turkish rugs. Come to our church, we have a sauna, a large garden, a sun room, and a new kitchen that is to die for.

This move to fix up manses, perhaps, only makes sense. Churches are caught up in the world’s wisdom as much as other organizations. Why should a minister with several children have a smaller house than a parishioner living alone? Why should a minister have to sacrifice family comfort when not many others are?

I can’t blame churches–like St. Columba–that are trying to keep up with the market, and considering the purchase of a manse it understands to be commensurable with the congregation.

But what does this wisdom say? Buy more, be happy. Look strong, and you will get a strong minister. I suppose poorer churches can just fend for themselves.
We’re not very good at this foolishness, at counting wise what the world counts as weakness. It’s so very difficult. We find ourselves in a world in which it seems every neighbor is spending the few hundred pounds to upgrade to the newest flat screen television, a world in which, those few hundred pounds, would keep a family alive in Sudan for years.

Paul writes, “God has chosen what the world counts as weakness…God has chosen things without rank or standing in the world, mere nothings, to overthrow the existing order.”

Mere nothings.

It’s difficult to align ourselves with mere nothings. It’s foolish in the world’s eyes. After all, St. Columba’s is the sixth largest church in Scotland, and Alloway’s budget  larger than St. Columba’s. We don’t think of ourselves as mere nothings, but of some of the strongest congregations in the land.

Flannery O’Connor’s best known short story, “A Good Man is Hard to Find” is the story of several mere nothings. The story, set in the middle of last century, follows a family’s last car journey. It’s a loving family, but one with its difficulties–the grandmother is rather cantankerous, and gives annoying advice already known by her son, Bailey.

On a mistaken whim, the grandmother instructs Bailey to drive the family car off the highway onto a dirt road. The family realizes what the grandmother sought on this dirt road is merely in her imagination. Next, the family cat gets loose in the car, causing a crash, and the car is upturned. Along come three men in a dark “hearse-like” automobile. The one called, “The Misfit” is the group’s leader, and we learn he has recently escaped from the penitentiary. Before the group of convicts murder the family, the grandmother pleads her case before The Misfit, appealing to his Christian convictions.

The Misfit responds, “Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead, and He shouldn’t have done it. He thrown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then its nothing for you to do but throw away everything and follow Him, and if He didn’t, then it’s nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best you can.”

It’s surprising to the reader to hear the gospel from the mouth of a murderer, a mere nothing of society. But in O’Connor’s story, the Misfit is the only character who seems to comprehend the foolishness that is the folly of the gospel.

Perhaps The Misfit had been reading Paul who writes, “God has chosen what the world counts as weakness…mere nothings, to overthrew the existing order.” As The Misfit puts it, “Jesus thrown everything off balance.”

Who are The Misfits of our society? Who are the mere nothings of Ayrshire? Those addicted to drugs and alcohol? Those who raise their children differently than we would? Those who don’t have time for church as we know it? Those who are struggling with The Misfits’ conundrum: If Jesus “did was he did, then it’s nothing for you to do but throw away everything and follow him.”

I don’t know, but Paul is confident that the gospel is not found in the wisdom of the world–not in the halls of 10 Downing Street nor the luxury boxes of the Roman Coliseum. The gospel, in all its foolishness, is found in the bloody cross; it allies itself with mere nothings.

As Frederick Buechner writes: “In terms of human wisdom, Jesus was a perfect fool. And if you think you can follow him without making something like the same kind of fool of yourself, you are laboring not under the cross, but a delusion.”

Are we fools for Christ? Do we seek the updside-down wisdom of God? Are we aligned with God, overthrowing the existing order not with pride, but mere nothings?

I Am Not Ashamed of the Gospel: The Bible in Progressive Congregations
by Christopher Henry

I love the New Testament. I have been captivated by the letters of Paul since the first day of my “Life and Letters of the Apostle Paul” class in college, when E.P. Sanders painted a verbal picture of the religious landscape of the Roman Empire in the First Century and then described the unlikely, revolutionary preaching ministry of Paul in that context. In the Introduction to Preaching class at Columbia Seminary, I was moved by Charles Campbell’s depiction of Paul’s conversion from an imagined ministry of violent persecution to a ministry of preaching the gospel in difficult circumstances. Because I love Paul, and because I believe in the power of the words of scripture not only to nourish but also to create communities of faith, I am deeply concerned about the role of the Bible in progressive congregations.

In my denomination, the scriptures of the Old and New Testament are described as the “unique and authoritative witness to Jesus Christ in the Church universal.” That is, the Bible is the place where we turn to remind ourselves what is at the heart of our worship, ministry, and life together. This also means that the Bible does not belong to one subset within our denomination nor to one denomination alone. These two affirmations are, in my opinion, central to recovering the power of scripture in progressive congregations.

The Bible is not a book full of answers for common modern day questions, no matter how many New York Times bestsellers claim that this is true. The Bible, for Christians, is not merely a collection of semi-historical narratives and moral stories. Progressive Christians can offer an alternative voice to these two extremes. We who believe that the Bible is neither an answer book nor a history book have a role to play in the conversation. But we must be prepared to converse. We must not abdicate Biblical literacy to Biblical literalists. We must read the words of scripture, study them, pray them, discuss them, and apply them. We must take seriously our questions of the texts but also the questions that the texts ask of us.

If there is to be a serious dialogue between conservative and progressive Christians about the significant moral issues of our time (whatever they may be) the only appropriate venue for such a conversation is the Bible. It is my sincere hope that our progressive congregations will be adequately equipped to speak with confidence and faith, standing firmly on the Word of God and unashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Christopher A. Henry is Associate Pastor of Morningside Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, GA.

Here are all the texts for Sunday. (You’ll need to scroll down a bit to see the Sunday lectionary or you can just read on.)

At this early stage I’m considering focusing on the Romans text. I like the parallel “put on the armor of light” and “put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” What in the world does “putting on Christ” mean? How to people who have put on Christ look? And how to deal with the whole problem of Paul thinking Jesus would return in his lifetime?

Romans 13:11-14

Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

I hope to bring the Isaiah passage in as well. The swords to plowshares imagery is about as cool as it gets. I’m struck by how often “nation” is used rathe than individual. The nations approach, the nations are judged, the nations become peaceful. What’s up with that?

Isaiah 2:1-5

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the LORD!

So the idea of me posting these passages is two-fold. First, it helps me to begin formulating sermon thoughts. Second, I’m a big believer that exegesis done in community is more rich than exegesis done all by my lonesome–that’s why preachers read books on the texts, after all.

So if you have a thought, just click the comment button below. You don’t have to be in seminary to comment. You don’t have to go to church or even believe in God. And don’t freak out if the comment doesn’t appear immediately as my blog is new the spam guard is still learning. I’ll de-spam things several times a day so, in due time, it will be there.

Oh, and Sunday is the first week of Advent.