The Audio Link and Manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, June 27th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, June 27, 2010.  If you'd like to listen, click on this link and download the audio file:

  http://www.box.net/shared/ejncxyb7ql



The manuscript follows below: 




The Thirteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; June 27, 2010

Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 2 Kings 2: 1-2, 6-14
Psalm 77: 1-2, 11-20
Galatians 5: 1, 13-25
Luke 9: 51-62 *

“Beware of God”

--} While making a routine potty stop on our summer vacation, a gentleman saw our van adorned with all the colorful bumper stickers [if you’ve seen our van you know we’ve got some of everything on it]; and as we were getting ready to depart he came over and offered to give us a new bumper sticker. When we asked him what was on it, he proudly lifted up his shirt, revealing a large rectangle with black and red lettering—“BEWARE of God”—adding verbally, “he’s jealous—you know!” And when he asked if we’d like one of these bumper stickers, telling us that he’d just copyrighted the message, it was Desireé quickly responding first, “I don’t think we would put that bumper sticker on our van.” Our encounter ended amicably, but the gentleman was clearly disappointed.

So as we got back on the road, I asked, “not that I disagree, but just why is that we wouldn’t put “that” bumper sticker on our van?” Thinking for a moment, Desireé responded, “that just doesn’t seem like a message we should be sharing—“beware of God”—like there’s something to be afraid of.” “Beware of God”—like we might say, “beware of snakes” on a hiking trail, or worse, “beware of God” because God’s out to gettcha!—like all the highway signs reminding drivers that “speed limits are strictly enforced,” suggesting you have every reason to “beware,” or “fear” highway patrol officers. Instead, we decided that if there was anything to “beware” of God about, it was probably the fact that God’s love for us is just so abundantly incredible that we should “beware” because God loves us so much God’s just going to knock us out with loving-kindness—just the opposite of what the gentleman seemed to be hinting at with his bumper stickers.



I often think our presumptions about God’s judgment and our assumptions about our relationship with God get us into trouble. We like the comfort of the judgment seat—judging those who we think are or should be on the outside of God’s love; hoping that by our condemnation of their behavior that they’ll somehow see the light or the error of their ways. “Beware of God”—you don’t want God to punish you for doing something wrong! And we often think or “believe” that we are in control of our relationship with God. That Jesus is always “calling us,” and all we have to do is to “accept him;” or that God is just waiting around until we say, “yes.”

Similarly, I think church “tradition” has greatly misinformed our perceptions about today’s gospel lesson. The “traditional” interpretation of today’s reading is that Jesus is teaching the church, including modern believers, about “discipleship”—by describing the sacrifices that are necessary if we are to be faithful to Jesus. “Beware of God…”—he’s jealous—so make following Jesus and doing what he asks your only focus!

But professor David Lose makes a compelling argument AGAINST the “tradition,” suggesting the focus of today’s passage is not “discipleship,” but the single-minded purpose of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where Jesus will suffer, be crucified, and die; where Jesus demonstrates for us most fully God’s profound love for humanity and all the world. So that for Lose, these stories aren’t about showing us how to be good disciples; but instead, demonstrating the love and work of God that changes the world and human beings with it. And I’m inclined to believe he’s on to something. Because Jesus in Luke’s gospel is rooted in forgiveness, and today’s text has some details that I believe help us to turn it around from the “traditional view”—giving us instead a vision of how God loves us in spite of ourselves!



In today’s gospel reading, Luke uses two stories to make a point—the first story is about Jesus not being welcomed in a Samaritan village; with a following story where Jesus responds to some people traveling in the entourage between villages. In the first story, Jesus has sent messengers ahead of him to prepare for his arrival in a Samaritan village; but the villagers, somehow knowing that Jesus intends to go to Jerusalem, refuse to welcome him. “Jerusalem” being the central place of worship for Jews was one of the well-known disagreements between Jews and Samaritans. It’s no surprise for Jesus to be refused under these circumstances; yet, assuming the response is only negative, when James and John hear it, they offer to call down fire from heaven to consume the unwelcoming villagers.

In response to the villagers and James and John, Luke tells us in verse 55 that Jesus “turned and rebuked them.” While seemingly obvious to us “who” gets rebuked, the use of the pronoun in the text means we can’t be entirely sure. Does Jesus rebuke the villagers for refusing to welcome him, or James and John who presume to call down fire from heaven—or maybe, a bit of both? But the curious thing is that the word that gets translated as “rebuke” is a compound word, with the strongest root word being one that means “to honor.” And the historical pattern where this “rebuking” word is used implies not only a “reproving” or “rebuke” of the one party, it suggests a possible vindication for the other party. So that while “rebuking” the disciples on the one hand, Jesus is somehow affirming the villagers on the other—as if Jesus were choosing between the unwelcoming-ness of the villagers or the calling down of heaven’s fire. And—strange as it sounds—Jesus seems to bless the un-welcome.

It’s this story, I believe, that serves to complicate matters in our “traditional” reading of the second story. Because in the second story, the three people who interact with Jesus all seem to have a kind of “un-welcome-ness” about them. When the first person approaches Jesus saying, “I will follow you wherever you go,” it’s as if Jesus is deterring him: Jesus says, “foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has no place to lay his head”—as if this man hadn’t considered the consequences of “following.” And when Jesus says to a second person, “follow me,” the man tries to excuse himself from the duty with the reply, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” He seems to turn Jesus down as easily as the Samaritan villagers. And when the third person, perhaps hoping to be a better example, steps up offering, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell—or really, let me separate myself—from those at my home”—Jesus responds rather scathingly, “no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

So often, this passage is proclaimed as Jesus wanting us to “follow him.” But the Samaritans won’t welcome him. Two people “volunteer,” but Jesus seems to “un-invite” them in his response. And when Jesus actually “calls” to the man in the middle, saying, “follow me,” he too ends up “not following.” On the surface, we’re convinced that we shouldn’t say “no” to Jesus—that there’s nothing worse. But lets look very carefully at verses 59 and 60.

To another [Jesus] said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

Notice how we move from Jesus’ invitation to “follow”—to which the man says, “I can’t”—to Jesus saying, as if commissioning him elsewise, “as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” While the encounter begins with Jesus inviting or commanding the man to “follow,” it ends with Jesus re-commissioning him to “go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Verse 59 is about “following;” verse 60 results in no following, but instead proclaiming. This sounds strikingly similar to what Jesus says to the man Legion—from whom all the demons had gone out—when the healed man begs Jesus that he might go with him. Jesus said to him instead, “return to your home and declare how much God has done for you.” Don’t follow. Proclaim the kingdom!

So why should it seem strange that at first, Jesus would choose the Samaritan villagers’ “unwelcome-ness” over the fire from heaven suggested by his disciples? Why should it seem strange that Jesus would seem to send away two willing volunteers—who offer to follow at nearly any cost, but choose to “re-commission” the one man who responds to “follow me” by saying, “no, I really can’t follow you, today.” Why should it seem strange to us that Jesus might not be as indignant as we are about peoples thoughts, actions, or behaviors? And why shouldn’t it seem strange that we would make all kinds of assumptions about how “faith” is supposed to work, assuming we can give our hearts to Jesus, and he’s always waiting for us to say “yes” with open arms?

Friends, this reading of the gospel story forces us to take issue with the “tradition” that would have us beat ourselves up over all the times and places we might have failed or fallen short or caused God grief because we might prefer to say, “no.” While tradition would have us act as if we needed to “beware” of God’s demands—lest we fail to pay proper attention, deserving of fire being called down upon us—Luke seems intent to tell us about a Jesus who is single-minded about going to Jerusalem for our sake and the sake of changing the world. And because Jesus changes the world, we should recognize new opportunities in faith.

Instead of forcing us down and out, perhaps these stories ought to demonstrate Jesus picking us up by the nape of our necks, lovingly looking us over despite our condition, and setting us on our way again—instructing us to “go and proclaim God’s kingdom. Because Jesus doesn’t need another set of disciples who are simply following him to stand in his shadow and watch again what happens to him—so-called “followers” who simply look around shocked and amazed at the mistreatment of Jesus on the cross. Instead, Luke is reminding believers that Jesus needs them to go out and proclaim the Kingdom of God; to do the things Jesus did BEFORE he got on his high-horse and went to Jerusalem to do God’s thing for us. Jesus needs believers who won’t just blindly follow for the sake of following, but who will take seriously to tell what they’ve seen and heard about the kingdom of God.

Friends, as David Lose observes, “everything looks different when viewed through the lens of God’s sacrificial love.” Luke seems to be seeking to remind believers that even when we might want to say “no,” even when we might doubt we’re up to the challenges of faith, even if we put other commitments ahead of our religious ones—“Beware of God.” Because God has a plan to love us and use us, even if—even when—we try and say, “no.” “Beware of God”—because the case may be that we’re actually a part of God’s reign whether we choose to be or want to be, or not. Not that we should take forgiveness for granted, but that God’s love doesn’t depend on our response.


--+ Friends, the Holy Spirit has come; Christ has been raised—and so are we. Jesus invites us not to dwell on the places where we’ve been lax, but to go and proclaim the Kingdom of God. AMEN.

Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, June 20, 2010

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon recorded on Sunday, June 20th, 2010 at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church.  After two weeks on the road vacationing, it's hard to get back in the saddle again. 

Click on this link to download the sermon and listen: 

http://www.box.net/shared/9r9xezhasd


The sermon manuscript I used follows below: 



The Twelfth Sunday of Ordinary Time; June 20, 2010

Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: 1 Kings 19: 1-15a
Psalms 42 and 43
Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8: 26-39 *

“Being Sent Away”

--} For all the grief we might give King Ahab for marrying evil Queen Jezebel, I still will forever have a personal reminder about his genius. King Ahab [about 700 years or so before Jesus was born] was responsible for adding an amazing addition to the fortress at Megiddo—otherwise known as Armageddon. This ancient site on the plains between Galilee and Judea has been occupied by no less than 14 different human civilizations—of which King Solomon’s was about 7th. The fortress is naturally located on a small rise on the landscape; which means it’s easily well-defended in addition to providing a healthy view of invading or attacking armies. But prior to King Ahab, the fortress had one substantial weakness—it had no internal water supply. So King Ahab ordered a tunnel be dug down—mostly through solid rock—into the ground, and then spanning across the landscape for almost a mile to a freshwater spring. He ordered the spring’s exterior side to be hidden and mostly filled in, so that the only access point to the water was from the inside. And when construction was completed, Megiddo, or Armageddon—was a true and rightful fortress with storage enough and access to water to last for years!

I remember this because it’s not often that one has the chance to walk through a tunnel engineered and constructed nearly 3,000 years ago! And so when I reflect on Ahab’s kingship now, it isn’t always just about his wife—the “evil” Queen Jezebel. And when I read in today’s story about Jezebel’s threats against Elijah’s life after the great prophet of God defeated all the prophets of Baal, I’m reminded not just of Elijah’s fearful fleeing, but how often human beings respond to our hurts, faults, and failures with hope that might makes right, or that our use of violence and banishment can prevail. And that’s exactly what Jezebel had in mind—banishment, and violence aimed at vengeance. And how often her story has been or becomes OUR story. Our own sense of justice and vengeance too OFTEN results in people being “sent away.”

This weekend it seems appropriate that we do some thinking or remembering about those who are often “sent away” on our behalf as we remember fathers and sons especially. Too often, we know it’s been they who have been called on again and again to be “sent away.” As we continue to have fighting men and women on foreign soils, as we remember the sacrifices (more often than not) our “fathers” and “sons” have been asked to make, from our nation’s infamous beginnings and the first continental army spending that cold, harsh winter in the field at Valley Forge, to the Civil War, to two great world wars, and all the various conflicts and police actions, including now various wars on drugs, terrorism, and in defense of freedom… we send fathers and sons away a lot—and often, without the benefit, comforts, and ingenious defenses of Ahab’s transformation of Megiddo.

History teaches us that men boys have too often been asked to go off to war—in every civilization—not just our modern one. Tall requirements of sacrifice have always been placed on their shoulders—sometimes willingly accepted, and sometimes not. And always when they are sent away in such a fashion, we find our fathers and sons put in harms away, in order to put in harms way other fathers and sons. It is a vicious human cycle.

But it is why, I think, that Luke’s story about Jesus healing the Gerasene Demoniac—Legion—gives us a critical look toward the Kingdom of God. Because while we often send people away to exact damage, destruction, and revenge, notice how Luke tells us about Jesus—sending the healed man to his home to “declare how much God had done for him.” How might our world and our lives be different if we could learn such a lesson ourselves? Instead of being sent away with fear and trembling, afraid of what might come to be—of being victimized or left to use the violence of the world and its power of the sword—what if we could be sent away not only with the promise of God’s having helped us but the promise of God’s help for others as well? Notice the differences between Elijah’s flight in fear and Jesus’ sending away the Demoniac—Restored!

Jesus makes a dangerous crossing of the Sea of Galilee at night, amidst a storm; he arrives at Gentile territory. He’s away from the home crowds, almost as if he’s on foreign soil—but it’s not that far away. He immediately meets Legion, inhabited by many demons, and without provocation, Jesus attempts to relieve him. “Legion” is his name (a military name), because many demons had entered him—or been placed upon him. Maybe, like us, some of them were received willingly—maybe they seemed right and good at first. But their influx has meant this man has lived “sent away” from his home and community—he’s been living among the tombs, either because he has nowhere else he can go or because every time the fearful townspeople try to bind him, he breaks free. Maybe the cemetery is his only solace. Maybe he, too, is ready to give up his life like the Old Testament prophet—having been through enough. Whatever it is, Jesus arrives, and proceeds in restoring what was lost; and it begins by unburdening the man of the demons. Despite the protests by the demons and the people who can’t believe it, Jesus—who’s unafraid of the consequences of disrupting the demons or the socio-economic structure—orders the demons out and restores this man to his right mind.

I think about the things we “send people away” for. Whether it’s “war” where we need soldiers; or whether it’s bank robbers, thieves, and murderers who deserve a stint of punishment in prison; maybe it’s a father who’s molested a child or brother guilty of drunk driving. There are lots of burdens that become demons for people—some taken willingly, others not. But Jesus’ response is quick—restore these men to their right mind and let the people see the difference; and having healed the demons, he sends this man away to go home and tell the things God has done for him. Isn’t that really how this story goes? Even amidst horrific human circumstances?

Luke is bold to tell us about this Jesus who goes out of his way to relieve human suffering—not just in terms of feeding the poor or clothing the naked or preaching good news—a Jesus who doesn’t even have to be asked first! Jesus demonstrates the overwhelming willingness of the kingdom of God to put things back in order; much like the much-needed respite the Old Testament prophet receives from God. The ways of the world, particularly violence and oppression, will not—do not—cannot—prevail. In the face of the living Christ, we are given a better way of being as human beings. And the question we might ought to ask ourselves is why we settle for being “sent away,” in the manner of human beings rather than going to proclaim what good God has done for us?

Isn’t Luke’s invitation for us to see Jesus as one who relieves us of our demons? And isn’t Jesus’ invitation not for us simply to remain “with Jesus,” but rather, to be sent away to proclaim all that God has done for us. To be sent away, not to participate in the things of the world, but to tell of the things of God! To be sent away, not with an attitude of hopelessness—so hopeless that we’ll be willing to give up and die—but having been relieved of our demons, to proclaim the goodness of the things God has done for us.

 

Hear me carefully. This is not to denigrate the sacrifice so many fathers and sons have made on our behalf—collectively and personally. This doesn’t mean it’s bad to sacrifice, to lay down one’s life, to volunteer for danger and violence and carry the sword. But it does mean that we also have Jesus, who stands clearly on behalf of all of us who ned to be relieved of our demons and have our lives returned to the vision of God’s kingdom. We have Jesus who is unafraid of visiting places beyond, of talking with and ministering to people who aren’t just Israelites; of inviting Legion and us to be “relieved” and made whole again.

And the truth is, for his efforts, Jesus is “sent away.” He’s asked to leave the Gerasenes, told essentially to “go home.” Even at the expense of being thrown out, dismissed, “sent away,” Jesus stands true to the values of the Kingdom of God. Relieve. Restore. Revive. Resurrect.

In that sense, just as the Old Testament Prophet is “sent away” to be visited by God on the mountain, safely hidden from Jezebel—as his life is restored, revived, resurrected—such is the promise when Jesus appears to us, among us, with us. And then we are “sent away”—but sent away” to declare what God has done for us. “Sent away,” as new (renewed) human beings with the promises of the Kingdom of God. And of what shall we declare to others? Do we tell them what we have seen and heard, of God’s intentions through Jesus the Christ? Or do we tell them the ways of the world seem right and fair and just, and fend for ourselves the best we can?

Most days, fathers and sons don’t just go off to war, and aren’t just “sent away.” Most days, fathers and sons leave the family at home and go to work, aiming to better themselves and their lives. Aiming to provide, to endure, to build up, and make safe. And most days, far more demons than we can count, tempt, cajole, tear into, and do their best to make us into creatures separated from the Kingdom of God. But don’t you believe it.

Jesus, the living Christ, crosses the barriers on our behalf. And it doesn’t mean we can change the past, or put back what has become of us. Instead, it means we can still live into the kingdom Jesus promises as God has decreed. This day, God is inviting us once again to be “sent away,” to declare the good things God has done for us. “Sent away,” like Jesus. “Called away,” like Elijah. Can we declare the good things God has done for us, or not?

--+ Friends, the Holy Spirit has come; Christ has been raised—and so are we. This is our best opportunity to say goodbye to old ways of living and to become the people of God’s kingdom—followers of Christ, and declarers of all the good things God has done for us. AMEN.

Link to the audio file for my sermon from June 6th, 2010

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, June 6th, 2010. 

http://www.box.net/shared/67p4izvbjk


There won't be a manuscript for this week.  I'm off preaching this next week, attending a wedding. 

As always, thanks for checking this out!