Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, May 30th

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, May 30th.  This was Trinity Sunday, but also Memorial Dedication Sunday in our congregation, a time when we dedicate our memorial projects for the previous year. 

On this holiday weekend, we were remembering "Family," "God's Family," and celebrating together our interconnectedness. 

If you'd like to listen to the recording from this service, you can click on the link below and download the windows media audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/9zov1ismpk


The manuscript I used to preach from follows below: 





Trinity Sunday [Memorial Dedication]; May 30, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Proverbs 8: 1-4, 22-31 *
Psalm 8 *
Romans 5: 1-5
John 16: 2-15

“The Family of God”

--} Trinity Sunday is all about the “family” that is God. As Presbyterians, we affirm the traditional doctrine that says our God is One God, but in three persons—God the Father, the Creator; God the Son, the redeemer; God the Holy Spirit, the Sustainer. Yet the problem with the Trinity most of the time is that we get woefully confused at having to say, God is one—but yet—God is three! And by the time we have to navigate all of that, people are either confused, or just plain bewildered. Don’t worry—God is still “God.”

The “Trinity” begins to make a little more sense to me, however, if we begin by thinking about God as “community”—or even as “family.” Such is the image the book of Genesis offers to us, where some of the stories we read about Creator God reveal a God who is at least described as “plural.” In Genesis 1:26, “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness’.” This still matches our doctrine that declares God is in “three persons.” And then again, in last week’s reading for the Tower of Babel, in Genesis 11:7 we hear God saying, “Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another’s speech.” God again appearing clearly more than “singular.” So I’ve been thinking about God’s revelation to us as human beings in creation.

Remember the divine command that follows creation?

“So God created humankind in [God’s] image, in the image of God [God] created them; male and female [God] created them. God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”

By this command God offers us a vision for creation that begins not only with a God who is referred to in the plural, but the reality for human beings that includes “being fruitful and multiplying.” God gifts human beings with relationships—with one another, and with God; and both kinds of relationships can be “fruitful.” While we have lots of different understandings of “family” or “community” in our world—from lots of situations intended and not—no human being is born on his or her own, apart from a father and mother of origin. All of our scientific wonderment and power cannot take that bit of creation from God. And God’s creative intention seems to match the reality of God’s own self. Man, woman, children. It seems strangely reminiscent of a God who is “more” than simply an “old white-haired man with a beard up in heaven.”

When we can think of God as “community” or even “family,” we have an image that almost all of us can relate too. It becomes easier to “see” God in one another. To know God—by the touch of a hand, the sound of a voice, the strange warming of our hearts. Even if our “family” experience isn’t the best, or when other relationships have been broken for one reason or another, our relationship with God can still be bound up in our relationship with other human beings. In fact, this appears to be God’s obvious design.

Listen again to the words of the Psalmist, describing God’s masterful creation, and think about the glory and honor we’ve been crowned with.

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor.”

And the conclusion of our reading from Proverbs that describes the creation and life of God’s Spirit—concludes with the image of God, the master-worker, who delights in the Spirit, rejoices in God’s “inhabited world,” and who “delights in the human race.” Not only does God “create” human beings, but God seems to “delight” in us as if God were enamored with the image of God’s own self. As the story in Genesis says, God sees us, and calls us “good.”

Brothers and sisters, WE are the delight of God’s eye and the glory of God’s creation. We—and—our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers, our cousins, aunts, uncles, relatives and friends. WE, and the communities we form and share—are the reminders of God’s community and God’s creative care. And to the extent that we have “dominion” over the world, and inhabit nearly every corner; because we have built up and torn down, and are responsible for disasters both human-made and otherwise—we not only rely on God’s ongoing creative care, but have become kind of co-creators with God, for good or bad. God’s “delight,” God’s “crowning” of us as human beings makes us special. We are imbued with the promises and possibilities of God, and our lives should declare it!


But today, when most of us are thinking about “family” or “community,” or those who have gone before or will come after—on this day, we should be reminded that God also appears to us as “community” in a similar kind of way. And we know about “community.”
This is a great weekend for “remembering” both “family” and “community,” isn’t it? A holiday weekend where lots of folks get together with family. A holiday, where we “remember” family and friends, good times and bad times and just making it through. We remember those who have worked hard, who have sacrificed for our benefit, who have given of themselves, and shared. We remember those who have gone before us and recognize those who will come after us. And it’s because we know that both “family” and “community” are vital parts of who we have been created to be—as God made us.

God is in community, and human beings are created for community. Which is why fruitfulness and multiplying aren’t insignificant. Which is why loving one another is important. Which is why sharing is important. Which is why trusting God and one another is important. We rely on one another, we are interconnected with one another; we are created for each other and with each other—in God’s mind. So perhaps, one of the gifts of Trinity Sunday is to be REMINDED of the nature of our community and God’s substantial part in it.

And today as we tell the stories of our community and those we’ve loved, surely we can be reminded of God’s community who has loved us and made all things possible. As we gather to worship we not only dedicate our lives but remember the example of those who have gone before us. It’s about “family”—God’s family and our family; God’s community and our “community.” And it’s not just about us, and OUR Church, or OUR lives or what we can accomplish. It’s about God who created us, and delights in us, and who has crowned us with promises and possibilities.

Today we give thanks, because God has been good to us. God has taught us and reminded us of the things and people that are important. And God promises to light our future as well. And as much as we learn to love, and share, and live in community together—we will share in God’s good intentions.

Trinity Sunday might baffle us with tradition and doctrine. It may challenge us to believe what we might otherwise not be willing to accept. But as we look into one another’s eyes, as we share the very image of God and God’s own self in our relationships—with one another and with God. And imbued with God’s promises and possibilities, we continue to share God’s blessings because we’ve been taught that God is with us, in community with us.

So this weekend, as we remember those who have been significant in our lives and in the life of our congregation, we are remembering too how close God is to us. It’s a chance not only to remember and give thanks, but to know that we have been created special, that we are imbued with God’s promises and possibilities—because we are a part of the great family of God.

Brothers and sisters, WE are the delight of God’s eye and the glory of God’s creation. We—and—our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers, our cousins, aunts, uncles, relatives and friends. WE, and the communities we form and share—are the reminders of God’s community and God’s creative care. God’s “delight,” God’s “crowning” of us as human beings makes us special. We are imbued with the promises and possibilities of God, and our lives should declare it!



--+ Friends, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit—is calling us out of our old ways of being-ness, to live in new ways as the body of Christ together—where many are one. Trinity, indeed! AMEN.

 
 
 
 
 
As always, thanks for checking it out! 
 

Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, May 23rd

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, May 23rd.  I inadvertantly left my recorder at the office and then went out of town, so it's a bit tardy this week.  Sometimes, that's the way things are.  This week was Pentecost, and I could blame the Holy Spirit for loosing the recorder--but I won't. 

If you'd like to hear the recording from the sermon I preached on May 23rd [Pentecost], click and download the windows media file at the following link: 

http://www.box.net/shared/sj9oypkxd0



The manuscript I worked from follows below: 





The Day of Pentecost; May 23, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Genesis 11: 1-9 *
Psalm 104: 24-34, 35b
Acts 2: 1-21
John 14: 8-17, 25-27

“Otherwise We Shall Be Scattered Abroad Upon the Face of the Whole Earth”

--} The most familiar Bible reading for Pentecost is our reading from Acts—where the Holy Spirit, seemingly in an attempt to strike some unity among believers, distinguishes Christ-followers by wind, flames, and the gift of languages. By contrast, our reading from Genesis seems quite “un-Pentecost-y.” While the Spirit strikes a common chord through the use of many languages in the early church’s story, back in Genesis, God seemingly strikes human beings with many languages as a common deterrent. But context is everything; and we shouldn’t be deterred from seeing God’s love at work!

Genesis is the story of how the world began—God’s loving embrace of creation and human beings. Even though today’s story describes people turning away from God’s desires, there is still something instructive for us. Context is everything! And by noticing that the immediately previous story to Babel is about God’s deliverance of both creation AND human beings from wickedness, we see God “resetting” creation by means of the flood. And having “delivered” creation and human beings through Noah’s journey, again we hear the divine command echoing from day six of creation: “be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it; have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” And just like that, the Tower of Babel takes us back to where God’s vision is still a possibility!

Clearly, God’s aim is to fill the earth; but notice too, what seems to be God’s invitation to human beings. If human beings only worried about “abounding on the earth and multiplying in it,” then it seems God is promising we’ll always get a fair shake. It can’t be just like the carefree life the Garden represented, but just imagine what kind of life God is inviting human beings into? Perhaps it is like that famous first question from the shorter catechism: “What is the chief end of human beings? To glorify God and enjoy God forever.” Shall we keep God’s commands, and let God take care of the rest of life for us?

But in chapter 11, human beings decide on a different plan. Afraid of being “scattered abroad over the face of the whole earth”—like being lost, human beings used God’s gift of a common language and worked together. While God intended “dominion” as the result of living all over the earth, the people came together in one place, ignoring the whole world, to construct bricks; they had bitumen to put them together and they began constructing a city and a tower—intending to reach all the way up to heaven and “make a name for themselves.” So rather than “being fruitful and multiplying” and having the whole earth, human beings sought to get up to heaven to presumably hold God in check. They abandoned God’s vision replacing it with their own.

But God does what God always does and comes down to take a look at what human beings are doing. God sees their city and buildings, God sees the tower, God sees the abilities of human beings and declares matter-of-factly, “this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.” God knows and seemingly allows human initiative and ingenuity. This isn’t bad. But it is detrimental to God having God’s way. Far from a condemnation of human initiative, God still sees the need to straighten things out; and notice what God does.

Not an act of punishment, God declares another gift for human beings—one that will keep the possibility open that God’s will and ways might prevail. God chooses… to gift human beings with various languages—in order to turn our attention toward relationships with one another and with God. God confuses human language so that the people are spread across the whole of the earth—fulfilling God’s intention. And the very thing human beings are trying to prevent, can be the very thing God makes available to us by “giving” to us again.

By contrast, the Acts story makes clear for us that despite human fears, human diversity is clearly within God’s realm to handle. The ability of the disciples to speak in every language shows the depth of God’s commitment that everything will be all right—just as God promised and intended. Be fruitful, multiply, fill the whole earth, and no matter the differences that result from many cultures and languages—God can still hold us together.

When I think about God’s gift of the Holy Spirit, it seems instructive to me that it’s the same eternal promises of God being rung true for us, too. Context is everything. As human beings, WE don’t always get it the way God wants it, either. We think “dominion” means we can do whatever we want—and maybe that’s why oil continues to leak into the Gulf of Mexico, promising the worst environmental impact in history; and why wars and violence continue to rage across the globe. I don’t know if the Spirit residing with us can simply put all that back or another way, but I do know the presence of the Holy Spirit promises God’s abiding care of us, no matter what we turn upside down or inside out! Or, as Jesus says, the Spirit continually reminds us of everything Jesus said and taught and did, so that we can be taught Jesus’ ways and make them OUR ways too.

“What would Jesus do?” is not the only question for us. God acting in the way God acts in Genesis shows us God’s commitment to human beings and the creation. It’s more than just our living happily ever after as we see fit—like the American Dream; it’s the promise that God is willing to abide with us no matter what we’ve tried to do. The promise is that God can bring us home—that GOD, can bring us home and restore, renew, re-invent, re-engage, retain, re-develop… no matter who we are or what we’ve done—or where we’ve gone or what we’ve built.

It’s Pentecost.

Are you ready to be re-invigorated by God’s love?

Are you ready to stop building and start loving? Are you ready to taste the fruit of God’s kingdom and to share that fruit with those you love and others beyond them?

Then this is the day.

It’s Pentecost.

And we can’t help but go out and tell God’s story.

--+ The Holy Spirit has come! It is an opportunity to say goodbye to an old way of life, and to live into a radically new way of being a Christian—indeed! AMEN.

As always, thanks for checking it out! 

Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, May 16th

Here's the link to the audio file and my sermon manuscript from my sermon for Sunday, May 16th, 2010.  This was the last Sunday of the Easter Season, so we're saying "goodbye" to Easter this week and being remade anew as we come to Pentecost next Sunday. 

You can access the audio for my sermon, recorded during worship, by clicking on this link: 

http://www.box.net/shared/11vtg0l9ye





The manuscript I worked from follows below: 


The Seventh Sunday of Easter; May 16, 2010

Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa

Texts: Acts 16: 16-34 *
Psalm 97
Revelation 22: 12-14, 16-17, 20-21
John 17: 20-26

“No One Suspects the Christian Influence”

--} I was doing some reading online this past week and came across some new poll numbers. “Striking” and “rather surprising” were how the findings of NBC and the Wall Street Journal found this particular slice of Americana:

• Despite all the attention the [Gulf] oil spill has received, 60% support offshore drilling and 53% believe drilling's economic benefits outweigh its environmental risks.
  
• Nearly two-thirds of the public (64%) back Arizona's immigration law, as another two-thirds (66%) believe it will lead to the discrimination of Latino immigrants who are in the country legally.
  
• A majority of Americans (52%) say they are willing to give up personal freedoms and civil liberties to prevent another terrorist attack, and another majority (51%) approve of using racial or ethnic profiling to combat terrorism.

Perhaps none of this is terribly surprising—UNLESS—you also make the claim that the United States is inherently a “Christian nation,” with values that are predominantly “Christian”—that is based on the life and teachings of Jesus and where the Bible is taken as a rule-book for living.

Three presidential elections ago, William Willimon—a popular leader and preacher in the United Methodist denomination, noted the wide concern among many Americans that as a Jew—then vice-presidential candidate Joe Lieberman, had presumably taken a religious vow “not to do work on the Sabbath,” and there was some question among voters about the need for the United States to go to war on a Saturday and Lieberman would have to wait until Sunday. Willimon suggested that instead of being concerned with Lieberman’s particular religious preferences, voters might want to consider that Al Gore was a Baptist, Lieberman a Jew, and George Bush a Methodist—all religious traditions that took serious issue with going to war in the first place—but about that, no one seemed particularly concerned.

I want to “pull a Willimon” this morning and suggest to you that one of the problems we face as modern “Christians” is that very few people in our nation and culture seem to suspect or take seriously that those of us called to the radical life called “Christianity” are particularly invited to have pretty non-typical reactions to all kinds of things that would seem “normal” to people of the world. There’s something particularly instructive about Paul and Silas ending up before an angry mob of business-people and city leaders and being beaten and thrown into prison because they upset the “business practices” that exploited a fortune-teller. The values of Jesus Christ don’t mesh very well with national, cultural, or other values of looking out for number one or of “getting rich”!

• It’s safe to say that the gospels portray Jesus as one who never took up a weapon of any kind; whose most violent act would have been that act of cleansing the Temple in Jerusalem—in which we should note, no one died.
• Jesus always welcomed the outsider, the stranger, the one in need.
• Jesus not only laid down his life, but prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
• Jesus advocated for the least and the lost; promised good things for those who had little or nothing or less than nothing, and held out the possibility that those who were rich by comparison still had work to do.
• Jesus elevated a whole set of standards for caring for one’s neighbor that precluded selfishness on our part.

Yet few people ever seem to suspect that a radical commitment to Jesus and his ministry on our part, calls us to a very different way of living and being in the world—a way that may even call into question the values of those living around us.

Just think of this for a moment. If we take the familiar Ten Commandments and lift them up as values we expect our culture to uphold, what does it say about us as a culture and a nation when we know these other things are true:

• Most people in our country don’t attend church or other religious services weekly.

• Nightly television and other forms of entertainment are built around story lines that include stealing, affairs, and killing; sit-coms are filled with sexual innuendo, scenes of crimes are often violent and brutal.

• News stories often double as entertainment—at least reality more and more mirrors entertainment, or vice versa; there’s a lot of disturbing things going on.

My point is, if we’re not lying, cheating, stealing, and murdering—we sure do watch or read about it a lot.

In truth, I’m not sure that our culture is a lot different from first-century Philippi—where Paul and Silas got into trouble. They had their fair share of violence and intrigue—it just wasn’t all on television, a lot of it was real life. But what happens to Paul and Silas shouldn’t have been totally unexpected. What’s instructive about today’s lesson from Acts is that it reminds us that a serious commitment on our part to Christianity definitely puts us at odds with the world’s values.

In the middle of today’s story is verse 25: “About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.” If you ever wanted to know, THIS, is what the reign of God looks like. Having been beaten severely, the scripture tells us “with rods,” that Paul and Silas were in fact wounded (remember that story some years ago about the young American who was to be caned as a punishment in some far Eastern country); the first question is “how” Paul and Silas were able to sing—assuming they’d been beaten and punched in the face and so forth. Not only that, but withstanding blows to the body with rods—then, as if adding insult to injury—being placed in the stocks in the innermost part of the prison! Imagine what religious hymns they might have been singing? [Which ones would you be singing!]

Not only were they singing hymns and praying under trying circumstances, but then something extraordinary happens. As if divinely inspired, an earthquake strikes, one that blows open the doors and breaks the fetters that bound all the prisoners and essentially sets everyone free. This is at least the third time in Acts that there’s been a divinely inspired “prison break”! But instead of bolting, Paul and Silas, presumably encouraged ALL the prisoners to remain. And doesn’t this become a resurrection story?—because the Jailor is all set to kill himself when Paul and Silas cry out for him not to do so—that the prisoners were all accounted for. The Jailor for all intents and purposes was dead, but now, suddenly and unexpectedly, he gets a new chance at life. Now, seriously, who in their right mind, under these circumstances, would be thinking about the salvation possibilities of a lowly Roman Jailor?—who no doubt had participated in the wrongful justice undertaken against Paul and Silas.

As crazy as it sounds, this is the voice of the early Christian community attempting to share what it means to take on the radical commitment of being a believer and follower of Jesus Christ. It is to do the unthinkable. It is to declare the unknowable. It is to live radically by a different set of principles—principles that are set forth by the Kingdom of God rather than the desires of human beings.

And what is remarkable about this story to me is that Paul and Silas don’t take on all of Roman culture. For example, they don’t declare the Roman way of life to be corrupt or immoral; instead they act in a manner that values all of human life. They don’t proclaim that the Emperor is the devil incarnate, and that to participate in the Roman way of life that worshiped the emperor as God was forbidden; instead they value the way of life that God values, and they demonstrate it. They don’t expect to lead an open revolt against Rome, they change hearts and minds by their witness to the life and work of Jesus—a life they emulate, sharing the values of God’s kingdom. And one person, one family at a time, they begin to make a difference.

This is the last Sunday of Easter. Resurrection means Jesus got a new life, Paul got a new life, the Jailor in today’s story gets a new life—WE get a new life, right? And what I think is important is for us to “re-think” what it means for us to be radical followers of Jesus. We DON’T have to go along with everything in our culture, or even what a majority of people in our country “think” is right. Now more than ever is a time for us to know our Bible, to be confident in God’s love in Jesus, and for us to make OUR voice heard. Not because we think we alone are right, but because we have a witness to make.

We know:

• Killing is wrong;
• False accusation, false imprisonment, racial profiling—are wrong;
• Discrimination against and exploitation of other human beings is wrong;
• Stealing—or forcing others to steal—is wrong.

And while it’s true our country our culture our nation and our world have difficult problems that are hard to solve, it’s not fair to “solve them” always at the expense of others or ourselves. More importantly, as Christians, we believe we have to do the right things. Unfortunately, few of us expect that our Christian values should influence us in ways that are so radically different from our neighbors.



--+ Christ is risen! It is an opportunity to say goodbye to an old way of life, and to live into a radically new way of being a Christian—indeed! AMEN.





As always, thanks for checking this out! 
 

Audio Link and Sermon manuscript from Sunday, May 9th, 2010

Today was the 6th Sunday of Easter and Mother's Day.  We had a great time in worship, including a special presentation for our Mothers and women who show us how to stand up with Jesus. 

Here's the link to the audio file for the sermon, recorded during worship:


http://www.box.net/shared/ifyj5d2l9q




The manuscript I worked from follows below. 




The Sixth Sunday of Easter; May 09, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Acts 16: 9-15
Psalm 67
Revelation 21: 10, 22-22:5
John 5: 1-9ff *

“DOWN by the river? STANDING UP with the Lord”

--} There are some commonalities between this morning’s readings from Acts and John—but they might not be readily apparent.

• Both stories take place “down by the river.” [That always has a number of connotations that go along with it!]

o Paul leaves the city and literally goes “down by the river;”
o Jesus meets a man at the pools of Bethsaida—or Bethesda—outside Jerusalem’s “Sheep Gate,” if not a river, at least a place known for “healing waters.”

• Both stories feature a “conversation”—between a “believer” and one who presumably is about to be.

• Both stories seem to conclude with a “standing up” kind of thing.

o The man Jesus heals literally “stands;”
o Lydia is baptized and then invites Paul and his group to stay with her household—surely a kind of “standing.”

• Both stories seem to feature “conditions” that get “liberated.”




Acts tells us that Paul travels to the Roman city, Philippi, in Macedonia. This is more than just a Roman town, it’s an old Roman outpost. Philippi was a significant metropolis along the way Roman troops passed between the interior of the empire and the far Eastern reaches. Not only a bustling city, Philippi was one of the last substantial Roman cities going out to the battlegrounds and one of the first places of Roman significance on your way back home—if you survived. It was one of the place where “everything Roman” didn’t have to be exported in the first place. Roman life was deeply entrenched here; but this was also a city with a significant number of Jews—who had been displaced from Israel. These Jews also had a significant community here, who for the most part, lived relatively well with the Romans. Philippi would naturally have significant places of worship for the Roman gods—the usual temples and shrines set aside for people to honor the gods; but also a number of synagogues. And at least archeologically speaking, we know these synagogues included a number of Jews, Roman converts, and “God-fearers.”

So it seems odd that Paul would “bypass” known places of worship to go outside the city walls looking for “a supposed place of worship.” I don’t know what Paul may have had in mind; but what the scriptures say is that Paul went “down by the river” and encountered a group of women. He spoke to them, and the end result is that we’re told Lydia—who is a worshiper of God—and her household were baptized.

This is not just a winning moment for the women-folk. The story seems to shape a legitimate place for Christians—both in the MIDST of Jewish AND Roman religious expression but somehow being “outside” the political and religious squabbles of the day. Luke’s story is seemingly offering a glimpse at what certainly would have been the friction between “all things Roman” and Jewish collaboration. That the Christian community is found making such headway—quietly, intentionally, successfully—says a lot. And while Jewish collaboration and friction with the Roman way of life may have been at the heart of the city’s politics, rather than be assuaged by the politics of the religious and cultural pluralism, a community of God-worshiping believers finds a way to emerge!



But back in Jerusalem, while John’s story offers a different kind of plot, there are similar dynamics. Jesus encounters a man who has been waiting his turn beside well-known healing waters for some 38 years. We shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that persons with ailments relied completely on their families; and often, when it became too difficult to care for them, family members often abandoned ailing people. The likelihood is high that this man was abandoned; yet even so, you don’t survive for 38 years without someone helping you. At the very least, someone had to come and bring him food! But these and other questions are seemingly trumped by Jesus—in particular, by his willful demonstration that he is Lord of the Sabbath and has the authority of God.

Unlike other biblical stories, exactly “where” this story took place is something modern scholarship believes it knows for certain. The pools of “Bethesda” [pictured on your bulletin insert] are located in the north-eastern part of Jerusalem’s Old City; and while literally the ground has changed much in the two centuries since, scholars believe this was the location of John’s story. Known as the “Sheep Gate,” the Bethesda pools were located in conjunction to one of the places animals were brought for sale and preparation for sacrifice. While the “pools” were probably created as a way of collecting and preserving rainwater, they made a ready resource for cleaning and purification. Additionally, tradition offers a couple of different views of what happened with the water. Some accounts indicate the pools were known for a purple or reddish color—easily attributable to the processing of the animals. But it was also believe that for healing, an Angel of God came down and “stirred up the waters,” and that the first people into the “stirred up pools” were healed—no matter what their ailment.

Notice that in John’s story, Jesus seems to thwart the legitimacy of both traditions—not requiring sacrifice for forgiveness and not waiting for the candidate to get into the waters to effect healing. In this story, only Jesus’ invitation to the long-time ailing man is sufficient for healing—the man doesn’t need to answer. And again, in the face of religious, social, and political assumptions and practices, Jesus boldly steps up with the Kingdom of God in hand.

What happens after verse 9 is that the religious authorities accuse Jesus of breaking Sabbath law by “healing” this man. There is not—and never has been—a law prohibiting “healing” on the Sabbath. The act that “breaks” Sabbath observance is the healed man “carrying his mat.” Notice that even on this count, the religious authorities make no attempt to arrest him or to sanction him in any way. They rightly perceive Jesus as a threat, not because he’s running fast and loose with Sabbath laws and ritual, but because Jesus declares his own authority to forgive sins—acting on God’s behalf. Still, surprisingly, it isn’t because of his religious views or his religious acts that Jesus is a threat—it’s his political liability.

Jesus is expressing (rightly) the views that the Jewish leadership should ordinarily hold. But in the face of the Romans, for the Jewish leadership to openly buy into this kind of radical theology would easily make them public enemies of the Roman agenda. Jesus is sought after by the religious authorities because he threatens the complicity of the Roman Peace.



So today’s stories both offer us a glimpse of what it means to be “believers” and “worshipers of God.” It is STILL far more likely that if we take up with God, the world around us is going to see us as “funny.” It’s not our believing in miracles that gets us into trouble—everyone likes a good miracle. Healing is always popular—read Matthew, Mark, and Luke, where nearly every time Jesus heals someone, EVERYONE is amazed and crowds follow him! The trouble comes because good religious principles often run counter to political and social realities.

“Peace on earth and good will toward human beings”—Jesus’ announcement refrain—doesn’t square with our well worn “rules of military engagement.” Or, ever try, “God does not kill?”—it flies right in the face of our conversations about just war theory, capital punishment, or abortion. Or how about “Jesus as the great healer?” Shouldn’t that presuppose a healthcare system where sick or not, all people get the benefit of consulting a physician; or the ability to get a child’s teeth checked out by a dentist; or ensuring eyeglasses for a grandchild who needs them? Where everyone who needs it—or not—gets cared for; where hospitals and nursing homes can be life-sustaining for EVERYBODY—and no one gets “left out” for 38 years because no one’s willing to pick up the tab.

But while it’s just about enough to make you mad, it’s instructive to see what Jesus and Paul do in our scripture stories. They encounter people in need; they speak with them and administer care. And they turn at least in two cases of being “down by the river,” into moments where people are able to stand. I believe this is what RESURRECTION means for all of us. Those down by the river—and elsewhere—get the chance to stand. Sometimes it me who’s “down by the river,” and sometimes it’s people I see around me. There’s hope for us all—down by the river. It’s called, standing with Jesus.



So today, we’re sending our women out with stoles, and the hope that it’s true for the rest of us. Because in the Christian community, we see people standing with Jesus. Our hope is that maybe we can show others what standing with Jesus means for all of us. So whether you’re leaving with a stole or not, isn’t God in Christ calling all of us to stand with Jesus?—Today, and every day.

--+ Christ is risen—indeed! AMEN.

Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, May 2nd

The 5th Sunday in Easter, and here's the link to the audio file for my sermon recorded on May 2nd, 2010. 

http://www.box.net/shared/2p224xfc6b

You can access the recording by clicking on the link and downloading the file from box.net. 



The manuscript appears below: 



The Fifth Sunday of Easter; May 02, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Acts 11: 1-18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21: 1-6
John 13: 31-35 *

“Love one Another. …Really? …Can Jesus be Serious?”

--} Today’s gospel lesson is the familiar, famous, and for many—a favorite—Jesus telling his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” And Jesus’ “love one another” is absolutely more than simply “good advice. As John’s gospel explains it, “loving one another” is how Jesus is glorified.” But “love one another” isn’t ever easy.

If you have any doubts, just take a moment and survey the text of John’s gospel where we find these golden words. Because the new commandment to “love one another” comes smack dab between the betrayal of Judas and the denial of Peter. Which means to “love one another,” comes with the threat of circumstances none of us care to have happen to us.

As I’ve been thinking about “love one another,” I’ve been reminded this week of my friend Elias Chacour

Elias Chacour describes “faith” this way:

"Faith is the incarnation. In other words, we have to identify ourselves with those who share our life, with those whom we believe in—with Jesus Christ. …For those who believe in Jesus, for those who really have faith, there is no question of privileges, preferences, differences, because we are all called to become the adopted children of God. That means that we have to change our behavior. It puts an end to nationality, to belonging to such and such a religious community, to being a chosen people—we are all invited to the same banquet, but not for any of these reasons, only because we are a man or a woman."

And then Chacour goes on to observe something I think is profound:

“Peace is not an end in itself. Peace is the result of something else. …If you want peace, you have to pay for it. …but if you are looking for peace, you often have to pay for it with your own blood.”

And I’m wondering if what goes for “peace” might not also be true of “love.”

My friend, Elias Chacour, has spent his life working for peace between Palestinians and Israelis. He knows something about peace, but I also believe he knows something about love. I want to share 3 of his stories with you this morning—stories that are about making peace, but also about learning to do “love.”

Before we begin, a disclaimer. Chacour’s life-experience as a Palestinian Christian involves things WE—in America—haven’t experienced. The controversy today in Israel between the State of Israel and Palestinians is real and violent, and complicated, and difficult—but I’m not speaking to that! YET, it’s possible you can hear these stories and think that I’m advocating “taking sides.” I’m not. Chacour’s stories are pointed toward love and peace and my point is not about taking sides. But surely, as we hear of his experience, we have to read them through the controversy that is complicated.

Chacour is the Bishop of Galilee, a Melkite priest a part of the Roman Catholic Church; but his real claim is a Palestinian Peacemaker native to Israel, who began a school where Christians, Jews, and Muslims are educated together. These stories come from a book entitled, Faith Beyond Despair: Building Hope in the Holy Land. And the “first person” is Elias Chacour.

I.

"I remember the day when there was a horrifying bomb attack in Tel Aviv. A Palestinian suicide bomber had blown himself up at the bus station in retaliation for the massacre in the Hebron mosque. That day 20 Jews were killed and 8o were wounded. But then, in the face of the bomb attack in Tel Aviv, we got together letters of solidarity and sympathy intended for the Jewish families. My students were saying to me, “This is not enough.” And one of them said, “I am ready to give my blood for those who have been taken to hospital.” Another said he too was ready to do the same. As a priest, I could not forbid them, and I was glad to hear them say it. I immediately telephoned the Rambam Hospital in Haifa. When I told them that I had some students who wanted to give blood, they hesitated but finally believed me. Sure enough, next day at eight in the morning there were several hospital vehicles in front of the school. I was afraid that no more than five or six students would give their blood, which would have made it a farce. But out of 350 students, 300 did so. I shall always remember that when it was my turn, there were lying next to me a Druze teacher, a Jew, and an American volunteer, and there we were side by side giving blood for our well-beloved brothers."


“We don't agree with what you are doing, but we will never agree to put an end to your lives”— that was the message that we hoped this gesture would convey. That day I said on Israeli television, “Today I can hope to return, for there is now 'Palestinian blood flowing in Jewish veins. It is a way of saving a life that might have been extinguished. And we are not willing it should be extinguished. We are ready to give up our own lives so that others should live. Today it is for the Jews; but the same goes for others, and it goes, of course, for our Palestinian brothers and sisters.”

II.

"Solidarity can be shown in both directions. I know that the Jews are capable of similar initiatives and can show solidarity with the Palestinian people. Some time ago seven Reformed Rabbis, arrived in my office. They wanted to talk to me about working together for peace. I said to them, “I have no wish to talk about peace just now. Far from it: my concern at this moment is to get several tons of food to Beit Jala where people are dying of hunger.” They replied, “But what is preventing you? There is no law against it.” I said to them, “No, but it costs a lot of money. We need two [trucks] and each one costs $700. If you rabbis really want peace, give me the money!” Immediately, $I,400 were laid on the table. Then I said to them, “Very well, but that is not enough. I do not know how to get these two [trucks] filled with foodstuffs across the frontier.” They replied, “But there isn't a frontier.” To which I replied, “On the contrary, there are several meters of no man's land, and if we cross it the army will shoot on us. But the Israeli army would never shoot at rabbis. Would you be prepared to go there?” They said, “But no one would accept the food from us.” I replied, “The "terrorists who are throwing stones at you, young Palestinians, will come and take the food from you.” They asked me if I was serious. I then telephoned Zogbi, a Christian in Bethlehem who is committed to non-violence. “Zogbi, tomorrow morning at seven o'clock two [trucks] will arrive full of food. Find 20 strong young fellows to unload it and distribute it to Muslim and Christian families.” He asked me, “But how will you get across the frontier?” I replied, “You can stay on your side, and some rabbis will have got the [trucks] through.” That's impossible!' he said, “It can't be true!” “But it is,”' I replied."


"Next morning, at a quarter to seven, the rabbis telephoned me to say, “We have arrived at the rendezvous, but no one's here.” I said, “There is still a quarter-of an hour. You must wait.” At exactly seven o'clock the young men came out from behind the wall and began to unload the [trucks], not forgetting to offer a drink to the rabbis. In all, it took two hours. Later on, two of the rabbis came to see me. They had tears in their eyes—as indeed I had. They said to me, “All our lives we have been trying to do some good, but the good you made us do today was worth everything we have tried to do all our lives until now. Now we know it is possible to make peace.”

III.

"There is another story I would like to tell. In November I was on my way down from Beit Shean to Jericho. The Intifada was still extremely active and violent. I was taking an Australian in my car. It was raining slightly, the road was wet and the dust had turned into something like soap. It would not have been difficult to lose control of the vehicle. Suddenly, in the distance, we saw a car spin round and land up in the ditch on the side of the road. Fortunately, the ditch was not very deep. Then another car arrived and stopped. Five men got out of it and stood round the car that had broken down. They were five strong Palestinians. We stopped too when we got there. A young Jewish woman of about 30 was sitting in the car, apparently paralyzed. The men asked her to get out, but the car windows remained closed and it seemed as if she was not reacting. The fright she had had from the accident was less than her fear of the five Palestinians. She did not know a word of Arabic, which was the only language they spoke. I went up to the car, smiled, and opened the door, all the time reassuring her and encouraging her to come out. “They will not do you any harm, ma’am, all they want is to help you. Come out of the car and go and sit in mine while they get yours out of the ditch.” I stretched out my hand. After much hesitation, and doubtless still much afraid, she gave me her hand and came out to take refuge in my car. It took the men about ten minutes to get her car back on the road. Meanwhile, some soldiers arrived. The first thing they did was to point their guns at the Palestinians to interrogate them. At that moment the Jewish woman, forgetting her fear and her shock, opened the door of my car, rushed out and placed herself between the soldiers and the Palestinians shouting, “What are you doing? Don't you see that they have saved my life? Do you want to kill them? Put down your rifles!” The soldiers, caught off guard by this reaction, told her to come and stand beside them. She refused, saying, “Get away, I am not going to stand beside you but beside those who could have killed me but instead protected me and comforted me.” Fortunately, the soldiers understood. They let the Palestinians go, and the woman for her part went off in her car. As for me, I went on my way praying for peace between these blood brothers.”

If we’re going to “love one another,” we have to thread the needle between betrayal and denial; we have to get up on our own two feet, and with our own two hands—do something. We learn “love”—and peace—by “doing.”
--+ Christ is risen—indeed! AMEN.


As always, thanks for checking it out. 

Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, April 25th, 2010

Today was the 4th Sunday of Easter.  We're still celebrating the resurrection of Jesus, still trying to come to terms with Jesus being raised and in our midst. 

Here's the link to the audio file for the sermon recorded in this morning's worship service: 

http://www.box.net/shared/5x7skh8aa2



The manuscript I worked from follows below: 



The Fourth Sunday of Easter; April 25, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Acts 9: 36-43
Psalm 23
Revelation 7: 9-17
John 10: 22-30 *

“Believing Jesus is the Christ”

--} Western Christianity has a strange view of the world. When we’re asked about believing in Jesus, we’re easily convinced it’s simply about getting into heaven. “Where are you going to spend eternity…” And the answer goes something like, “If you don’t want it to be ‘down there,’ you need to believe in Jesus….” And just like that, Western Christianity tends to have us “having faith rather than our living “in faith.” In part, because of our westernized history, we often fault the Jews around the Temple in John’s story for “not believing in Jesus.” But we fail to apply the critique to ourselves.

As I read today’s gospel lesson, it seems to me that the Jewish leadership around the Temple is asking something that you and I already have the advantage of “believing.” From our perspective we might ask, “How could these Jews not know already or believe that Jesus is the Messiah?” But there are a lot of reasons—even good reasons—for the Jewish Temple folk to be in doubt, or shock, or awed, or threatened… even when we’re not. We often assume that our post-modern faith should be exported “backwards” through time—thinking that everyone should or could believe as we do. WE don’t find it so challenging to “believe” Jesus is the Messiah, and think other’s shouldn’t either. And yet, FAITH—now or then—still comes with the significant challenge of changed behavior.

While many modern “believers” feel slighted by the Jewish authorities’ lack of belief in Jesus, we needn’t. What we should be trying to cope with is what Jesus’ messianic appearances mean in terms of a post-resurrection and post-modern faith. And we can start, not by asking ourselves about how first-century Jews could have doubts about Jesus, but by asking ourselves what it means that WE BELIEVE Jesus is the messiah. Since we believe that Jesus is the Messiah, what is supposed to be different about our lives? Our story? Our Church? Our Faith? Consider that for a moment: What is “different” about your life because you believe?

Because in any age, the faith of Jesus the Messiah should have a powerful expression in human living. In first-century Palestine, the powerful expression Jesus offered was belief that the signs pointed to God’s kingdom being present in the world—both in Jesus, but also in the faith of people who trusted as they saw him and acted on that trust. Time and again, Jesus invited people to believe and take stock of a new way of being—a way not dominated by the ways of the world, but a way that capitulated to the norms of the Kingdom of God. It sounds good, doesn’t it? But BELIEVING in Jesus means our lives have to be reshaped by that faith. And that’s where the rub is. “It is not enough to say “I have faith,” one has to BE in faith!”

What kinds of things did you consider were different in your life because you are in the faith of Jesus the Messiah? We often come up with differences like:

• I go to church;
• I act morally;
• I believe in God;
• I respect others.

But how often do we consider the more stringent rubrics of being in faith and find them necessary for daily living? Things like:

• Loving our neighbors;
• Praying for our enemies (we probably don’t think we have any enemies!);
• Ensuring all people have access to the necessities of life (food, water, shelter, pursuit of happiness);
• Do we find ways of being compassionate, kind, and truly just every single day! And do we think about those who have less than we do and are we willing to work toward ways of sharing?

These things COST us something; and we often fear the price must be too high, literally and otherwise. People actually say things like, “do you think we should have to pay for ALL people to have healthcare in this country? For everyone to have a doctor, to be able to go to the pharmacy, to have needed surgeries? It’s too expensive! We can’t afford it.” Really? Is that our answer? Why isn’t our answer, “health care should cost less; our morality means something more than our net worth! Shouldn’t we WANT everyone to have healthcare and have their needs met? Wouldn’t we want THEM to do the same for US? And why aren’t we working hardest to solve these problems!

Faith COSTS US SOMETHING! To believe Jesus is the Messiah forces us to deal with a reality of life that is more than just ourselves. We would do well to remember that the first two questions God ASKS of human beings are these: “Man, where are you?” And, “Where is your brother—what have you done to your brother.” In the aftermath of “be fruitful and multiply” and “have dominion over all of creation” comes the reality of human cruelty. And it’s into this reality that God sends us the Christ.

But it’s not hard to understand why human beings—not just the Jewish folk around the Temple with Jesus, but even ourselves—would be resistant to this new and special reign of God. To live like God in Christ COSTS us something.

I imagine for the Jewish leaders at the Temple that even if they could believe that Jesus was the messiah, the costs of that “believing” were perceived to have been too high. If Jesus is the Messiah, it would have turned their world upside down. They would be removed from power; they would be incorporated into a necessary rebellion—by their actions. It would have cost them their jobs, their families, their security—probably even their lives. What seems amiss, is that we blithely ask them to make such a sacrifice, without seeing the same mandate for ourselves.

WE somehow find it possible that our believing in Jesus doesn’t threaten life, family, job-security, or standing in the community. But it’s not true. We have the privilege of living in one of the most powerful nations on the globe—and quite possibly one of the most unjust. Our cultural concern for “self” often fundamentally obliterates not only the concern for others, but the rights others may have toward meeting their own needs. Healthcare is still a good example. We are told to believe the cost is too high; our perception is pushed and changed, so that we’re convinced it would be “cheaper” if we don’t have to cover people who have unhealthy lifestyles (those who smoke, those who don’t exercise, those who eat too much at McDonalds or other fast-food places). Is it right to save a few dollars for our own pocketbooks at the expense of other people being sick? Because plenty of hard-working decent people these days don’t have healthcare and they’re not the unhealthy types—they can’t afford to be.

While we may believe that because it’s true that most of us don’t rob banks, kill other people, or have sexual affairs; we should think we’ve done pretty well with the commandments—that because we’ve tried to live what we might describe as “good and honorable lives,” we don’t have to answer to the larger concerns of humanity’s ill-treatment of the world and human beings. Even though we’ve tried to keep to ourselves and tried to help in ways that we could, what Jesus calls us to do is to proclaim the gospel and live out the life he shows to us. Because I’m absolutely certain, that the people at the Temple whom we think can’t or won’t believe in Jesus probably could have said the same things about themselves that we think about ourselves. They, too, thought they were doing right and living justly.

So when we consider what it means for us to put our faith in Jesus Christ, our believing that Jesus is the Messiah needs to be demonstrated BEYOND just the affirmation of faith in worship on Sunday mornings. We need to become people who are known for our association with Jesus—despite the costs. The works we do, should testify to the living Christ. As Jesus says to the Jews, “the works I do in my father’s name testify to me. …my sheep hear my voice, and they follow me.” The claims of the gospel should be our claims too. And if they are, our lives have to demonstrate them. Maybe even at great cost. Elias Chacour says, “If you want peace, you have to pay for it… often with your own blood.”

As people who claim the resurrected life of Jesus for ourselves, what we do and make in the world is not insignificant. WE have the advantage. WE BELIEVE Jesus is the Messiah. We don’t have to fret about it, we don’t have to try and figure that out. We know and are convinced. YET, what remains are lives that demonstrate that BELIEF every day—beyond the platitudes.

But here’s the thing. We think too often as Westernized Christians that once we commit ourselves to believing in Jesus as the Messiah, we’re assured a good outcome—that because of our faith “we can’t be snatched out of the savior’s hands.” That our place in heaven is uncompromisable. But I don’t believe that’s what John was trying to teach us.

Instead, John demonstrates for us that if Christians are convinced that Jesus is the Messiah, WHAT’S STOPPING US FROM LIVING ACCORDING TO THE MESSIAH’S WAYS? All the “costs” can be worked out. The worst thing that can happen to you is that you’ll die; but the resurrection of Jesus means that death is never the last word. Worst case, you die…. I don’t want to make light of dying for our faith, but I’m just saying that John’s intent seems to be to convince believers and followers that part of the Kingdom of God is up to us. We have to help God make it happen. We have to work with God—because we believe.

So “believing” isn’t ever just a way of getting ourselves to heaven. Believing is a way of transforming the world in the ways of Jesus Christ. It’s a way of giving up our fetters, for us to be unbound by the world, and instead, to demonstrate the full life of the Kingdom of God in all its glory—in us, through us, and among us.

--+ Christ is risen - indeed! AMEN

Link to the audio file and other materials from my Sermon on Sunday, April 18, 2010

This morning we had a special power-point presentation for the sermon.  Since our congregation doesn't have a projector, we had to borrow one from our Presbytery's Office.  We did that. 

So this week, there's a link to the Audio File, for the sermon as recorded during worship; AND, there are two additional links for the powerpoint.  The powerpoint files include the sermon notes I used to preach from.  If you click on the powerpoint files, you can "view" them, but you have to download them in order to see the slides with the sermon manuscript notes. 

Here's the link to the audio file:  http://www.box.net/shared/dmmc7y6nrq


Here are the links to the powerpoint slides (with notes if you download them)
Link to powerpoint part 1:  http://www.box.net/shared/vh21jqi2qg
Link to powerpoint part 2:  http://www.box.net/shared/dr1d8980k8


As always, thanks for checking it out.

The Audio Link and Manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, April 11th

April 11th was the SECOND Sunday of Easter.  Easter is the longest special Season in the liturgical season and covers the 50 days or 7 weeks until Pentecost.  So, we are still celebrating Jesus' resurrection! 

The audio file for my sermon recorded on Sunday, April 11, 2010 can be downloaded using the following link:  http://www.box.net/shared/n6vyfcpyk8. 



The sermon manuscript appears below: 



The Second Sunday of Easter; April 11, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Acts 5: 27-32
Psalm 118: 14-29 or Psalm 150
Revelation 1: 4-8
John 20: 19-31 *

“Jesus is Raised. …Now what?”

--} “Jesus is raised. …Now what?” That’s really the question the gospel writers try and answer for us, isn’t it?

I’m going to begin this morning with a couple of observations about John’s text in today’s gospel reading.

First, we should take notice that FEAR is important to understanding the resurrection of Jesus. John tells us that on the night the resurrection is discovered, the disciples have gathered, with “the doors locked for fear of the Jews.” Sometimes we’ve gotten in the habit of believing that the “locked doors” Jesus has to navigate to get to the disciples somehow “proves” his resurrection is valid—but in fact, the doors are locked because the disciples are afraid. They’re afraid because the religious authorities were out to get them as much as they were Jesus; and because dead people don’t just come back from the dead! A week later and having already witnessed Jesus alive, the disciples again show up, and again the doors are locked—they’re still AFRAID!—even when they know Jesus is alive.

Contrast that with you and I who find great JOY in the news of the resurrection and we aren’t the least bit afraid! Shouldn’t we be?

Second, “Doubting Thomas” almost always gets a bad rap. We would do well to believe the Bible’s testimony that Thomas “saw” or experienced nothing more than the other disciples got to experience and witness for themselves. Yet, BECAUSE of Thomas, we have a second—and what must have surely been an “unexpected”—visit from a “resurrected” Jesus. We have it “demonstrated” again that truly Jesus was the one who appeared to the disciples a week earlier, and not some kind of imposter or body double. We often discount that “doubt” and “fear” are a part of every gospel-writer’s account of Jesus’ resurrection. Mark, telling us that the women were amazed and terrified and they didn’t tell anyone anything. Matthew, reminding us that when the disciples are together with the resurrected Jesus on the mountain, that they worship him “but some still doubted.” Luke, informing us that the disciples were all “terrified” when he stood among them and that they thought they were seeing a ghost! Is John’s story about Thomas really that much different from everyone else’s?

But it is different from our telling and often from our experience, isn’t it? In the wake of the resurrection, “doubt” seems—well… “normal.” Quite the contrast to Christians today, who often think it is unconscionable that anyone would have “doubts” about the resurrection. And yet, even in the face of “believing” in the resurrection, we often forget how important it is for us to not get caught up in the resurrection being “true” or by the promise of our getting to go to heaven; but instead, to keep alive the witness of Jesus. That seems to be the challenge the gospel writers are pointing us toward. Not just believing in the resurrection, but keeping alive the witness of Jesus!


John’s gospel tells us in verse 29: “Jesus said to Thomas, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe’.” Here may be why. It’s widely believed that John’s gospel was written “last,” at the very end of the 1st Century. This is significant because by then, it’s likely that all of the “eyewitnesses” to Jesus’ death and resurrection would have died. By then, no one was left who could say, “I saw Jesus in the days after his resurrection,”—people like Thomas and the other disciples who could literally “testify” that Jesus was raised. The community for whom John’s gospel was written was going to be made up of folks who could not ever “see Jesus” and “believe” in the same sort of way. They were people who were going to have to “believe” not having seen the signs or having the visible, eyewitness testimony. John is writing to the first generation of believers who would need to speak to people saying, “I believe Jesus is raised,” but for all practical purposes, would have no “verifiable proof.”

For that first generation of believers beyond the testimony of eyewitnesses as well as for ourselves, it’s important that we remember we are not simply called to be about “proving” that Jesus was “resurrected” some 2,000 years ago, “just as the Bible says.” Instead, we’re called to give witness to what the Bible teaches: that “Jesus is alive” now just as much as he was then; but “resurrection” means more than an event of history. When we say, “Christ is risen,” we mean more than a date or a memory—we speak of reality.

Even when the disciples told Thomas, “We have seen the Lord,” do you think they meant, “we saw him die, then we saw him alive, ain’t it great!” Do you believe it was simply a matter of “proving” once and for all that dead people can be raised? Didn’t Jesus raising of Lazarus do that? But if Jesus is alive…, isn’t it true that his claims are still alive and true! And that probably means there’s something in it for us. Not just something for us to “believe,” but something for us to DO?

We often think the resurrection is about Jesus being raised—in fact; and we like to believe because of “resurrection” we are bound for heaven—in fact. But these concerns aren’t really the focus of the gospel writers. In a new book, New Testament scholar N.T. Wright offers some sage advice about the meaning of the resurrection in the gospel stories. Wright points out that none of the GOSPELS talks about the resurrection meaning anything related to what we might call “an assurance of heaven” or an “afterlife.” The gospel writers weren’t concerned with what happens to us when we die. And while we’re often used to affirming that “Jesus died for our sins …so that we can go straight to heaven,” this is not an emphasis of the gospel stories. And for us to really understand the resurrection, such claims need to be better understood.

In the New Testament, it’s Paul who introduces us to the idea of “life after death.” Yet, that we know of, Paul never met Jesus prior to the resurrection. But Paul, writing and preaching to new believers BEFORE any of the gospels were written, teaches that as surely as Jesus dies, we are buried with him in baptism, and that as surely as Jesus is raised, we are raised with him in new life. And most of the time, most of us are willing to stop there. “Good,” we think. Jesus’ resurrection means we get to go to heaven—isn’t that “good news”? But just like the question of resurrection as a singular historical moment, doesn’t the resurrection mean MORE than just the promise of life after death?

This is precisely what the gospels try to indicate for us. If you accept already that there’s life after death, the gospel stories push us in a radical new direction for how we live our lives. If we don’t have to worry about death or dying being the last word or our final destination, what we “DO” with THIS LIFE that we’ve been given seems far more important than simply convincing ourselves that there’s a life to come. And suddenly, Jesus’ resurrection can move us from a doctrine the church “believes” to the reality of what Christians are called to be “DOING” in the world, because we know the truth of the phrase, “Christ is risen!”


So when John tells us about Jesus’ appearances with his disciples, the POINT is more than life after death. We can’t miss that John’s story takes place “behind locked doors” where the disciples are afraid. While Jesus says three times, “peace,” the disciples won’t immediately follow. And “peace” becomes key when Jesus offers believers a commissioning: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And, having breathed on them, Jesus says to them and us, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” The truly scary part of the resurrection for us may be that according to the Biblical facts the resurrection doesn’t seem to be just a particular promise about heaven, it’s a commissioning to continue Jesus’ witness! Jesus being alive lends NEW MEANING to our life as FOLLOWERS. Which is maybe why the Book of Acts tells us that shortly after his resurrection, the disciples are teaching in his name! Flaunting the power of the religious authorities.

Both for the disciples and for people like us, the story of Jesus’ life and ministry, death and resurrection, means that every encounter we have with others has the potential for us to help or hurt them, to forgive sins or retain them. It means that our “faith” has consequences beyond heaven and hell. “Believing” the resurrection stories of Jesus, not only teaches us that Jesus is alive, they proclaim a ministry and mission for believers and followers that Jesus intends to enable. Freed from the threat of an “end” in death or dying, the gospel stories promise opportunities to continue Jesus’ ministry and mission between now and then.

Back in John chapter 11, before Jesus raises Lazarus, Jesus says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” And once again, the temptation is for us to rush ahead to the “never dying” part, tempted to think of Heaven and a particular afterlife we envision. But when Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life…,” in the present tense, surely he intends for believers and followers what he says. So that Jesus’ “resurrection” is primarily about a way of living—not just for them but for us!

If Jesus’ resurrection assures us that death is not the last word or our final destination, are we not truly “free” to live in this life? Even in the face of persecution, domination, violence, disease, misfortune; even in the face of joy, wealth, satisfaction, justice and righteousness? Jesus’ resurrection frees us in any moment—in every moment—to not only confess, “my Lord and my God,” but also to use our moments to recreate Jesus’ ministry and mission. So that Jesus is alive not only in the sense of having been raised from the dead, but that he is alive in us—in our actions, in our working, in our faithfulness to Jesus’ ways.

Or, as Daniel Ingram wrote this week in an online devotional about “how” we believe in the resurrection: “we believe that Jesus is alive because of the great joy that comes from knowing him. When we share that joy with others, the story of Jesus’ resurrection continues through us. Jesus is alive when we share the good news of forgiveness. Jesus is alive when we worship, sing and pray. Jesus is alive when we make friends. Jesus is alive when we help others. Jesus is alive!”

So it’s more than believing in an historical event, or a moment when Jesus appears, the resurrection of Jesus invites us to continue to believe in and act upon the witness of the living Christ. In fact, that’s what I believe the original commissioning for the disciples was all about—to believe that they, too, had in fact been sent by God; commissioned so that they too could act in the ways of Jesus. And, if John’s testimony about resurrection frees us from a concern about dying, shouldn’t it really inspire our living? I believe it must.


--+ Christ is risen - indeed! AMEN.




* Special thanks to my Lectionary Study Group pals who offered a lot of the inspiration for the direction of this sermon.  Our study group meets on Tuesday mornings in the conference room at the offices of the Presbytery of Des Moines, where we're famous for the questions: "What are you going to preach about?"  "I don't know--it's only Tuesday!"  And, "Where are we going to eat for lunch."  And in between happens a lot of great discussion, wrangling, and seed-planting about the lections for the next Sunday and their various meanings interpretations. 

Easter Sunday--the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, April 4, 2010

Today is Easter Sunday, when the Church celebrates the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

You can hear the audio recording of my sermon from this morning's worship service by clicking on this link and downloading it. 

http://www.box.net/shared/5btv7nx4ck


Worship was such a joy this morning, that this preacher couldn't stick with the text as prepared.  Being so much more "off" the manuscript than with it, I don't have a manuscript prepared yet for this sermon.  I may add one in the coming days if you wish to look for it later--or perhaps, like Jesus, the tomb (or the blog) will remain "empty."  a

Here are a couple of pictures from Jerusalem's Garden Tomb from my pilgrimage last fall: 

Though we are want to go and see... he is not here. 

He is risen! 

Link to the audio file for my sermon from Maundy Thursday, April 01, 2010

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon preached and recorded on Maundy Thursday, April 1st, 2010.  This is no April Fool's joke! 

You can listen to the sermon by clicking this file and then downloading:

http://www.box.net/shared/azf8uombar



The manuscript for the sermon follows here:


Maundy Thursday; April 01, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Exodus 12: 1-14
Psalm 116: 1-2, 12-19
1 Corinthians 11: 23-26
John 13: 1-17, 31b-35

“The ‘Traditional,’ “Love one another”.”

--} Tonight begins with “tradition” in one form or another. Many church traditions start with the story that many readers of Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s gospels refer to as the “Last Supper.” That’s the story of the institution of the Lord’s Supper—on the night of Jesus’ arrest, he took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples….

The other tradition, from which Maundy Thursday takes its name, is the story from John’s gospel—where Jesus takes off his outer clothes, wraps a towel around his waist, washes the disciples’ feet, offering them “a new commandment”—“love one another.” “Maundy” taken from the word meaning, mandate—“mandate” referring to Jesus’ command.

As modern Christians, we’re not used to having to “choose” one bible story or the another; we often have them squished together for us into one easily discernable form. But, in fact, church tradition gives us BOTH stories—two traditions; and the part that’s most interesting to me is that John’s gospel doesn’t have any story about an “institution” of our familiar “Last or Lord’s Supper.” If we were to read John’s story in isolation, tonight would be a much different experience for us—where we’d be focused more on what Jesus says for us to “do” rather than “doing” or “reenacting” what the other 3 gospels “say” happened. And I want us to think about that for a few minutes. What if there were no last supper or memorial meal? What if the dinner party ended after Jesus’ act of extreme servant-hood followed by that famous “new commandment,” to “love one another?”

I do want to point out that what Jesus DOES in John’s story is a radical act that made his disciples uncomfortable, and should make us uncomfortable, too. First, only the wealthiest of households typically had slaves who would wash people’s feet. Jesus and his disciples didn’t fit that description. Further, Jesus puts himself—the teacher and leader—in the place of the lowest person in the room; inviting the disciples (and us, it seems) to a similar social position. And the mandate is not just to “serve,” but to “love”—as Jesus demonstrates. Jesus does seem to aim at followers putting aside social status and comfortability. And to do so makes this night a radical calling to meet other’s needs rather than our own.

Sometimes—I think we treat the Lord’s Supper as an act for our own comfortability. We declare it a special table (only at church), reserved for only special people (believers) and it can happen only in this serene, meditative environment. So cleansed from the outside world, we celebrate and remember Jesus and his death and resurrection—helping us to feel good, primarily about ourselves (since we don’t typically encounter others). It seldom is interpreted as a call to service.

But in John’s story, any “institution” of a “Lord’s Supper” is absent—missing. What scholars suggest that the closest John’s gospel comes to a “Lord’s Supper” is not the night before Jesus died—not at all; rather, it’s the day Jesus breaks the bread and fish beside the Sea of Galilee for at least 5,000 people to eat a meal and be filled. Yet even without a so-called “last supper” or formalized “Lord’s Supper,” it should be no surprise to us that LOVING is also about “feeding.” One of John’s unique stories is of Jesus asking Peter three times, “do you love me,” and Peter answering three times, “yes;” and Jesus’ follow-up is “feed my sheep,” “tend my lambs,” “feed my sheep.”

The feeding of the 5,000 is a much different story as a vision of a “Lord’s Supper.” John tries to tell us that Jesus is like the “manna” that comes down from heaven to give life to the world—reminiscent of the Israelites’ experience in the wilderness. “Manna” is not the bread of Passover—or unleavened bread. Passover bread is human-made bread; it belongs to the earth and to us as creatures. But it’s different from “manna” because “manna” is the bread that belongs to and comes only from God. “Manna” is reminiscent of Jesus’ statement, “human beings do not live by bread alone.” “Manna” is entirely God-provided; and to share it, to be fed by it means to live relying on God’s ability to love and deliver us and provide for all our needs—especially in the valley of the shadow of death.

John’s gospel almost deliberately distinguishes between Passover-bread and “manna”-bread; forging a distinction between a “Lord’s Supper” (what we call “communion”) and God-provided meals. One of my pet peeves is that we call it the “Last Supper” as if it were the “only Supper”—or the only supper that really matters. The other, is that we distinguish “this table” that we share at church from every other table that we share—as if this one has more meaning than the tables we use for “daily bread.” The Lord’s Prayer teaches us to pray, “give us this day our daily bread,” a reminder of God-provided bread in the wilderness that provided daily sustenance.

So, what could happen if we began to see AGAIN that every meal were sacred, reminding us to “remember”—not just one particular meal, but the power of what Jesus said and taught and how he lived, every day?

What John tells us about that day in Galilee was that people were hungry, and there were no means by which to feed everyone. Some commentators laud the reality that everyone would have carried a small supply of food for themselves, the “bread for tomorrow,” and that what must have happened was a “miracle of sharing,” where everyone suddenly broke out their small provision and shared with one another—enough for all to be fed with leftovers. But this seems, as John tells it, like “bread of the world”—human provided, human made. The other way of understanding Jesus’ act is to require us to see it entirely as God-provided—“manna bread”—that comes straight out of heaven to nourish and sustain. I believe John intends to tell us that this feeding of the 5,000 was a wholly other meal, by which God promises us, “human beings do not live by bread alone” and only God can sustain us completely.

In tonight’s gospel lesson, Jesus seems to say, “If you love me, you’ll do as I do.” He’s referring to his radical servant-role to be sure; but he’s also referring to all the things he said and taught along the way. He’s telling us about the meals, too—and there were plenty! Plenty of times when Jesus sat at table with friends and others and “ate.” I think about the places that you and I “eat,” and can’t help but believe that Jesus and his friends and others “ate” similarly, too—both bread of the world and the sustenance of God.

I think about our great family celebrations—Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter—and know they most often take place around food and tables.

I think about “loving the least of these,” and reckon the advertisements for the DMARC food pantry and Door of Faith and soup kitchens everywhere, speak to the powerful hope that is found in “breaking bread.” And then I think about John’s story and wonder….

There’s Jesus, not talking fancifully about bread and body, but taking the role of a slave and washing feet.

There’s Jesus, not just saying, “remember me,” but instead, taking food from the kitchen and spreading it before them, “feeding them,” and inviting them into a similar ministry.

There’s Jesus, hoping that we don’t just build a ritual which we can celebrate over and over in order to feel special, but a means by which tending to other’s needs can be made “special.”

And I think about John’s story and wonder… what did Jesus really have in mind?



Many of you know that last fall I had the privilege of taking a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. And one of the places I most wanted to see was a place called Tabgha—the traditional “location” for the miracle of the loaves and fishes. I marvel at John’s description of Jesus inviting the crowds to sit down on the grass, then breaking the bread and fish and having them distributed—kind of like a Hy-Vee catered picnic or something. I imagined seeing that “place” and dipping my toes in the grass with a view of the Sea of Galilee. Well, it didn’t happen. Much to my surprise, you get off the bus in a parking lot, choking on the diesel fumes of 30-50 other busses, get herded into a modern church (built in 1964) to see a famous mosaic that dates back to the 4th century, to which you can’t get close enough to in order to take a good picture—and in a few minutes you’re back on the bus. There’s no “green grass” to dip your toes in, not even a view of the Sea of Galilee—I still have to use my imagination.

I lamented not getting to see the “place” where the loaves and fishes may have been broken and served. But then something extraordinary happened; I began to see the “bread” and “fish” both in human-provided ways and in God-provided ways. I found them literally on the lunch table when we had “loaves and fish.” I found them in compelling stories where people were being fed or sustained. I found them in the ways God was providing for me on the pilgrimage, and I related them directly to the ways that I know God feeds us from heaven every single day.

Several days later, one of the other places we visited was a school that had it’s beginnings in a church’s simple summer program. What began as something akin to what we would call vacation bible school eventually developed into a full-time school, where children who are Jewish, Christian, and Muslim all study and attend classes together as “people of faith” without having to deny one another’s humanity. But that first summer, such an idea was “new” and when the children from the community were invited, so many showed up that they didn’t have food enough to feed them—kind of like Jesus on that hillside. The Church leader had to go into the community to beg food from families that already didn’t have enough to feed themselves, let alone provide for others. And I suppose, in a manner not unlike that of Jesus—the food happened.

Several years later, the children of this one-time “summer program” would design murals to decorate the walls of their school—stories of their faith; and one of the murals they made was a “re-creation” of that 4th Century mosaic I had longed to get a picture of at Tabgha—but couldn’t. The school children’s recreation is the picture that appears on the long paper in your bulletin tonight, a piece of paper that I hope you will take and use as a placemat at a meal for you and someone else. A meal by which you can be reminded not of “A” meal or “THE” meal, but reminded nonetheless that God feeds us every single day—and on the basis of that “love” from God, we are called to go out and “love one another.”

Because tonight’s bigger tradition that we celebrate is that the love of God in Jesus goes out from the table to love the whole world—sustaining it not with bread alone but the unfathomable, salvific work of Love. And we, too, are called to serve likewise.


--+ AMEN.