The Sacred Ground: Reclaiming Whose You Are

Think for a moment about a time you felt completely invisible, even though you were standing in a room full of people. Maybe it was a holiday dinner where a certain topic was "off-limits," or a meeting where everyone was rushing toward a decision you knew was a mistake. You felt that familiar pressure in your chest—the urge to speak up, to be honest. But then, that other voice kicked in—the one that whispered, “Just let it go. Don’t make a scene.” So, you nodded. You became a "peacekeeper." But as you walked away, you felt a little bit smaller. In that moment, you didn't just avoid a fight; you surrendered a piece of your soul.

To reclaim that soul, we must understand that our worth is not something we negotiate with the people around us. It is a gift already granted. We find the blueprint for this kind of courage in Paul. We read this morning from Acts, chapter 17.

While Paul was waiting for [Silas and Timothy] in Athens, he was deeply distressed to see that the city was full of idols. So he argued in the synagogue with the Jews and the devout persons and also in the marketplace every day with those who happened to be there. Also some Epicurean and Stoic philosophers debated with him. Some said, “What does this pretentious babbler want to say?” Others said, “He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign divinities.” (This was because he was telling the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) So they took him and brought him to the Areopagus and asked him, “May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.” Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new.

Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely spiritual you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all peoples to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps fumble about for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said,

‘For we, too, are his offspring.’

“Since we are God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the deity is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals. While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”

As Paul walked through the streets of Athens, he was "greatly distressed." He saw a brilliant city pouring its energy into silent statues and empty rituals. We feel this same distress today when we realize how much of our lives are spent chasing things that cannot love us back—whether that is a perfect reputation or the elusive approval of a difficult person.

Yet, Paul does not attack. Instead, he meets the Athenians where they are. He finds the one thing they admit they do not know—their altar to the "Unknown God"—and uses it as a bridge to explain who they truly are. He shows us that strength does not come from being the loudest person in the room, but from being the most deeply rooted in the image of our Creator. 

This rootedness is exactly what the Athenians lacked because they were driven by a profound, systemic anxiety. Idols are the physical evidence of anxiety. When we lose our internal center, we try to build security on the outside. The Athenians were so anxious about their standing with the divine that they built a backup altar "just in case."

In a community like ours, that same anxiety manifests in "modern idols." We construct, for example, an Idol of Tradition, where a specific worship style or the color of the carpet becomes more sacred than the mission, because change makes us feel unsafe. We worship at the Idol of the "Nice" Culture, where we value a fake, superficial harmony over the honest truth, fearing that if we speak up, we will be cast out. We might even serve the Idol of Numerical Success, treating people like statistics to prove we are relevant.

These are social alarms that tell us it is "unsafe" to be our true selves. When we are gripped by this anxiety, we trade our God-given identity for a "false-self" that just reacts to the room.

Paul’s message cuts through this exhausted effort: God is not a deity to be managed, pacified, or bought with our performance. God is the one who provides the very life and breath we are currently using to worry. Our security doesn't come from fixing the room; it comes from realizing we are already held by the One in whom we live and move.

The Biological Conflict: Instinct vs. Image

This struggle to stay true to ourselves is actually wired into our biology. I invite you to hold up your hand, palm facing you. Tuck your thumb into the center and fold your fingers over the top. This is a model of your brain.

The base of your palm represents the brainstem—the primitive core that manages survival instincts. The thumb tucked inside is the amygdala, the brain’s alarm system. Its only job is to scan for threats—including social threats like being criticized or excluded. Your fingers represent the prefrontal cortex—your "Thinking Brain." This is the biological home of the Image of God. One theologian calls this “holy tissue.” This is what Psalm 8 describes when it says God has "crowned us with glory and honor." This part of the brain allows us to choose a response based on our true identity and beliefs, rather than our panic.

But, when anxiety spikes, the amygdala - our body’s alarm system - takes over. Our brain mistakenly treats social tension as a life-or-death emergency. In these moments, we sacrifice our integrity by reacting without thinking; our survival brain impulsively surrenders our convictions just to lower the emotional temperature of the room. In that moment of stress, our Thinking Brain—the part of us that reflects our Creator—shuts down. We stop acting like humans made in God’s image and start acting like creatures just trying to survive.

Self-differentiation is the spiritual practice of moving from being a thermometer to being a thermostat. A thermometer has no internal identity; it only reflects the temperature of the room. If a room is anxious, the thermometer gets hot. But a thermostat is rooted in an internal setting. It knows the temperature, but it stays true to its own beliefs, eventually bringing peace to the environment around it.
In the Acts text, Paul says God marked out the "boundaries" of our lives. We must recognize these same property lines for our own souls. This is self-differentiation. It means knowing where you end and another person begins. It means not being caught up in another’s anxiety or trying to manage it because, in doing so, we neglect our own sacred ground. Psalm 8 asks, “What are mere mortals that you should be mindful of them?” The answer is that God has given us stewardship over our own lives. We are responsible to others, but we are not responsible for their reactions.

The Practice of the Breath

To help us maintain our identity in a heated moment, we need a mechanical delay—an intentional pause between the impulse to react and the act of responding. When we feel those physical signs of anxiety—a racing heart or a sick stomach—we need to create the space for our thinking brains - that holy tissue - to re-engage.

 
One way to do this is to practice using the gift of “life and breath” we read of in Acts. It’s why we are beginning each service over these six weeks with a breath prayer. By breathing a prayer for six seconds, we can tell our nervous system that we aren’t actually in physical danger. It provides that break that allows our holy tissue to kick back in and to anchor us in our identity as God’s beloved, created in God’s image. Let’s do it again. Inhale for three seconds saying these words to yourself: “I am enough.” Then exhale for three seconds, saying to yourself, “In God.” This delay allows our thinking brain to resume control so that we are no longer merely reacting emotionally, but are responding from the very image of God that is woven into our DNA.

Jesus was the most differentiated person to ever live because he was the most perfectly rooted in his Father. Like Paul standing in the Areopagus, Jesus could move through a crowd of desperate, demanding, or angry people and feel deep compassion for them without ever being consumed by their anxiety. He did not "fuse" with their panic or their expectations. He knew exactly whose he was, and that celestial anchor allowed him to remain exactly who he was.

We must remember that we are not defined by how "nice" we are or how well we pacify a stressed-out world. You are defined by the Divine Breath that sustains you at this very second. The Psalmist reminds us of our true stature: we have been made just "a little lower than God," crowned with a glory and honor that the world did not give and cannot take away. There is a spark of the divine within your very biology—that "Holy Tissue" of the thinking brain designed to reflect the wisdom and peace of your Creator.

May we have the grace to honor that divinity within us. When the pressure rises and the room grows tense, let us pray for the discipline to take those six-second pauses. In that brief silence, we aren't just catching our breath; we are reclaiming our soul. We are stepping back from the survival instincts of the animal and stepping into the "glory and honor" of being the very offspring of God.

Let our prayer be for the strength to pause, to breathe, and to remember: you are not a reaction to the people around you. You are a sanctuary of the Living God. When you stop to remember whose you are, may you find the courage to be the person you were created to be.

God grant it. Amen.

Romans 10: Everybody's In

Hello, again. As I said at the beginning of worship, it’s good to be back.

A few things before we begin our study of Romans 10 today. First, I have to admit to playing a rather cruel joke on Ron Poisel and Alec Brohnson - your supply pastors and my fill-ins while I was away on sabbatical. Because I wanted some continuity this summer in the preaching texts, plus to make things a little easier for Kylie while I was away, I made the choice to focus on the book of Romans. Well, I made the choice for them.

You see, Romans is considered one of the most challenging of Paul’s letters to figure out. It’s a theologically complex and very dense writing. Everyone struggles with it. So, I promise, there will not be a quiz at the end of the summer. And the truth is that I am getting a little payback because I, too, will be preaching in it for the next 4 weeks.

A second thing I want to say is that I can guarantee that some of my experiences on sabbatical will likely find their way into my preaching and conversation over these next few weeks. It was a wonderful experience. A time of rest and renewal of relationships for me. A time of exploration and travel. And I’m still processing some of it. But, expect to hear a little more about it. And, if I haven’t said it enough, thank you for allowing me the time away. I was more exhausted than I knew.

Then, lastly, I want to talk briefly about our understanding of Romans. Since the early church, we have digested this letter as Paul’s treatise on faith and justification and salvation. Since the time of the Reformation, we - especially we Lutherans - have understood it to hold the core message of justification by faith. It has become an understanding that more and more pulls verse out of their context to highlight the reality of sin and the necessity to confess Christ for one’s own personal salvation. One of the dangers of this is that it makes salvation all about the individual. And one’s personal relationship with Christ as a personal Lord and Savior.

Over the past 50 years, the understanding of Paul’s writing has changed. It’s called a “new” perspective on Paul. If considering a “new” understanding makes you a little uncomfortable, know that this began with the writings of Krister Stendahl - a Swedish Lutheran theologian who, it was a change in understanding that began with the writings of Krister Stendahl - a Swedish Lutheran theologian, who pointed out that Paul - a Jew - did not view his life as one of conflicted torment with a troubled conscience. Stendahl argued that “justification by faith” was not the heart and soul of Paul’s theology, but that only used this idea when circumstances arose to argue that both Jews and Gentiles stand on equal footing before God. Other theologians picked this up and ran with it - and it has changed the entire culture of the study of Paul’s writings. Because Paul’s writings have primarily to do with community and how Christ-followers are to live in community.

Now that’s a very long introduction to our reading today, which comes from the heart of Romans.

Moses writes about the righteousness that comes from the Law: The person who does these things will live by them. But the righteousness that comes from faith talks like this: Don’t say in your heart, “Who will go up into heaven?” (that is, to bring Christ down) or “Who will go down into the region below?” (that is, to bring Christ up from the dead). But what does it say? The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart (that is, the message of faith that we preach). Because if you confess with your mouth “Jesus is Lord” and in your heart you have faith that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. Trusting with the heart leads to righteousness, and confessing with the mouth leads to salvation. The scripture says, All who have faith in him won’t be put to shame. There is no distinction between Jew and Greek, because the same Lord is Lord of all, who gives richly to all who call on him. All who call on the Lord’s name will be saved.

So how can they call on someone they don’t have faith in? And how can they have faith in someone they haven’t heard of? And how can they hear without a preacher? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, How beautiful are the feet of those who announce the good news. (Romans 10:5-15 CEB)

One of the best times I had on sabbatical was on July 4th. I was able to spend time in Texas with my gathered immediate family - including my son, brother and sister-in-law, nieces, and my new grand-nephew - the first grandchild for my brother and his wife. And, yes, it was hot! But we were on a lake - so it was tolerable.

It was the first time in over 15 years that we had all been together. For my son and his cousins, it was a time of getting to know each other all over again as adults, each with their joys and struggles. For me, it was just good to be with family - and to experience each family member in their unique personalities. 

There was a twinge of sadness, though. First, my niece’s husband, Coddie, wasn’t there. He died suddenly this past May of a heart attack. Then second, my nephew, Alex, also wasn’t there. He has been estranged from our family for several years. Although he has reconnected with his dad - my brother - he hasn’t yet come back into the family fold. So, there’s a little nick in my heart because of that.

Maybe you have something like that in your family. Maybe there’s someone who is estranged from the rest of your family. Maybe you’re the one who is estranged. I think this is more common than we know.

And this is really what Paul is writing about in this chapter and the surrounding ones, chapters 9 through 11 in Romans. He is expressing and working through his heartbreak over the Jewish people - HIS people. Wondering how it’s possible that Israel, God’s chosen people, have been given the promises in scripture and the covenant, yet are sitting on the sidelines while the Gentiles are flocking to Jesus as the Messiah. He writes at the beginning of chapter 9: I have great sadness and constant pain in my heart. I wish I could be cursed - cut off from Christ - if it helped my brothers and sisters, who are my flesh-and-blood relatives.

The resurrection of Christ was, for Paul, key. It is the beginning of God’s cosmic re-creation and reconciliation of humanity with God’s very self. Note that it is Christ’s resurrection - and not his death on the cross - that is key for Paul. Because, you see, anyone can die, even die on a cross. But, it is only Christ who was resurrected by God, which proves God’s faithfulness. That God keeps God’s word. God says what God will do.

At the very beginning of Romans, Paul writes that the gospel was “promised beforehand in the scriptures. Throughout the letter, Paul quotes from the Hebrew scriptures to show God’s hand - to show what God intended to do. It began with the Jewish people. 

Yet, the most important principle of ancient biblical interpretation is this: what God has done in the present determines the meaning of what God said in the past. So, Paul’s conclusion is that all of scripture points to Christ as the Messiah. And that God’s ultimate solution to the problem of sin and the separation of humanity from God was Jesus.

But what about the Jews? That part, for Paul, is so hard to figure out. It’s the question he’s struggling with here. The early church was made up of the Jewish disciples. But as it has grown, more and more Gentiles - and not Jews - are flocking to Christ. Paul struggles with this. He is a Jews. The Jews are Paul’s peeps.

But they are largely uninterested in the idea that Jesus is the Messiah. So the early movement of Jesus-followers is full of Gentiles (in other words everyone else who is not Jewish). Paul is arguing and advocating that the Gentiles are to be included without requiring them to follow Jewish law or custom (like circumcision or keeping the Sabbath, even though these have been commanded in scriptures). So, if the Jews then aren’t joining up with this new movement, then this new movement is no longer only Jewish. And that creates, at least, 3 problems.

First, God. How can God be faithful to God’s own people if they aren’t enjoying the benefits of God’s great and final act of salvation in Christ? But, Paul argues that God is faith. And that God will keep God’s promises.

Second problem. On the ground. What are Gentiles to make of Jews? And vice versa? In Rome, Jews are returning after having been kicked out of the city 50 years earlier. There are Christian Jews returning to the community. People are having to learn how to live together. Or wondering if they even should. It’s like it’s a church potluck and half of the group won’t show up because Patty isn’t bringing her deviled eggs. Who gets to control things? Gentiles? Jews? What actions count as faithfulness and obedience to God? This is the question. What does faithfulness to God look like if the Gentiles aren’t required to follow the same scripture requirements?

Third. What are we to make of non-believing Jews? How do we understand their rejection of Jesus as Messiah? What is their future?

For Paul, it’s a work of navigation, balancing the promises of God to Israel with the reality that the Jewish people have largely not accepted Jesus as Messiah while, at the same time, numerous Gentiles have. For us, too, it matters. Because the Jewish people are God’s chosen people - that hasn’t changed because God is faithful to them. So, to reject the Jews as part of the family is to reject Israel’s God. Our God.

The bottom line is that everyone is in. Humanity was created to bear God’s image - to show the whole created order what God is like. And if God’s plan of salvation isn’t to restore all of humanity, then God’s got a big problem. 

By the end of Romans, as we’ll learn, it’s not clear that Paul has everything all figured out. But, ultimately, he comes to a place of trust. Trusting that it is the resurrected Christ - and not obeying the commandments - that the law actually points us to. 

And that we are to be the bearers of that good news. Good news that transcends all boundaries, all divisions, all borders - everything that we, as broken human beings, like to put in its way. “Neither Greek, nor Jew. Neither male, nor female. Neither heterosexual or transexual. Neither documented, nor undocumented. Neither slave, nor free. 

This good news is about life. About the life that Christ’s resurrection - and not his death - points us to. About - together - experiencing the fullness of God. A God who, as Elijah experienced, comes not to us in the wind, or the earthquake, or even the fire. But in the most unexpected way. In the sound of sheer silence, through which God whispers to us: Y’all are mine. Y’all are enough. I choose y’all. I love y’all.

May we be the messengers of this good news.

Preached Sunday, August 13, 2023, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

11th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: 1 Kings 19:9-18; Romans 10:5-15

Living in Hope: A Posture of Christ

If, then, there is any comfort in Christ, any consolation from love, any partnership in the Spirit, any tender affection and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he existed in the form of God,
    did not regard equality with God
    as something to be grasped,
but emptied himself,
    taking the form of a slave,
    assuming human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a human,
    he humbled himself
    and became obedient to the point of death—
    even death on a cross.
Therefore God exalted him even more highly
    and gave him the name
    that is above every other name,
so that at the name given to Jesus
    every knee should bend,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
    that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence but much more now in my absence, work on your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure. --Philippians 4:1-13 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy and peace to you, from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Like Pr. Elisa last week, I’ve struggled writing this sermon this week. In the midst of all that has happened this week, which we will get to, it’s been one tiny little phrase in the center of this text that has troubled me much. It’s this phrase in verse 7. A reference to Christ emptying himself, specifically “taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.”

If you were here last week and you heard Pr. Elisa’s sermon, one of the theological terms she talked about, one that I’ve mentioned before, too, is the term imago Dei. It’s a theological understanding, based on the creation account in Genesis, that we believe that each person, every human being, is created in the image of God. 

So, what - and this what I struggled with - what does it mean then when we lay this idea beside verse 7 in today’s text where, being born in human likeness meant - at least for Christ - becoming enslaved. What happened to the part about human likeness imaged from the face of God?

So that, among other things, has been my struggle this week. And, by default, it’s yours today, too. Whether you like it or not!

To try to understand this, we need to step back from this small part to look at the whole. These verses are the oldest expression in all of Christian scripture of who Christ is. We teach about this piece of poetry as another proof text of our understanding of the incarnation - of Christ moving from a place of equality with God to that of the human condition. Emptying himself to suffering and death, then to resurrection and restoration. It’s the heart of the Gospel - the heart of the Easter story for us who, on this seventh Easter Sunday, are now returning full circle back to that first Easter Sunday. It’s the heart of who we understand this Christ to be. 

But that’s really only part of the story of these verses. We know the social and political context of the Roman Empire at the time this letter was written. Those who ran the Roman Empire put up stone monuments to celebrate its power. These images reflect Roman emperors holding female figures by the hair, women with anguished faces and twisted bodies. They were not just simple statues celebrating emperors who were considered “sons of God,” but statues that celebrated the empire’s power over the people - men and women alike - that it had enslaved. 

This hymn in verses six to eleven is a rejection of this kind of power. It celebrates Christ as one who is in the form of God and equal to God. And, if we look at verse 6, which reads that Christ did not “regard equality with God as something to be exploited” - the Greek word for exploited is much harsher than our English translation. It means rape and robbery. In other words, this divine power that Christ held did not include the right to dominate. Or to subdue people. And, in fact, this Christ hymn argues that Jesus took on the form of a slave - of one raped and robbed and exploited. And that he was executed on the cross as a criminal - enslaved by empire. 

Domination. Conquest. Exploitation. All of these are contrary to divine power. The death and resurrection of Jesus rejects our human displays of power and violence by taking on the form of those who were the recipients of such power and violence. To show us a different way than violence, fear and death. A way of humility. Of self-giving. Of being open to the cries of those who are enslaved.

Which brings me to this week. 

It began on Sunday. Even as we carried the previous week’s events of Buffalo and Laguna Woods and, here in Louisville, the incident with the Christian Academy...even as we carried these events into the week, on Sunday we learned of decades of the abuse, particularly of women, in the Southern Baptist Convention. Decades during which their abusers were preserved and protected. And the voices of these women silenced. And, in the silencing, abused over and over and over again. Perhaps there is a reason God appears to be dismantling the Church (capital C) as we know it.

Then, Tuesday came. And with it, another mass shooting, the 214th mass shooting of the year here in the US. There have been 2 more since then. This, as you well know, was another shooting in an elementary school: 19 children and 2 teachers, each of whom we named today as we began worship. 

Do we hear their cries? Do we hear the cries of the voiceless in our world? The people who are enslaved by human displays of power and violence at any cost? Do we hear their cries? When will we begin to listen? And to act? 

This hymn, perhaps written by Paul, is not a theological statement, but an ethical statement of how we, who have been saved by Christ, are called to act on behalf of those who have been enslaved by the human condition - the desire for power and domination at all costs. To hear their cries. To listen to their voices. To reject the simple binaries of good and bad, or who’s right or who’s wrong. To experience and take on the posture of Christ. And then, to act. To become in practice what we already are in Christ. 

To act is what Paul means at the end of today’s text, when he speaks of the need for us to work on our own salvation with fear and trembling, to continue the work already begun in us by God. And, then, "to will and to work for God’s good pleasure" in a posture of Christ.

Because, if we are all in truth created in the image of God then every child gunned down in Texas is my child. And your child. Every person of color killed is my sister or brother. And your sister or brother. And every grieving family is my family. And your family. Because we are all connected, one to the other, created by God, part of the human family that God created in God’s image. And God’s good pleasure is that we act on behalf of our family. Our human family.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he existed in the form of God,

    did not regard equality with God

    as something to be grasped,

but emptied himself,

    taking the form of a slave,

    assuming human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a human,

    he humbled himself

    and became obedient to the point of death—

    even death on a cross.

Therefore God exalted him even more highly

    and gave him the name

    that is above every other name,

so that at the name given to Jesus

    every knee should bend,

    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue should confess

    that Jesus Christ is Lord,

    to the glory of God the Father. Amen.

Preached May 29, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville, and New Goshen Presbyterian, Prospect.

Seventh Sunday of Easter

Readings: Philippians 2:1-13, Luke 6:43-45

 

Living in Hope: Meeting People Where They Are

Our story today opens with Paul in Athens. 

Paul never expected to end up in Athens. After his imprisonment with Silas last week, the two of them left Philippi and made their way to Thessalonica. There, too, Paul and Silas and now Timothy got into trouble and were quickly whisked away to Beroea, where again, they got into trouble. For his own protection, Paul was escorted to Athens, where he waited for Silas and Timothy to join him. It is at this point, as Paul is waiting in Athens, that our story opens.

While Paul waited for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to find that the city was flooded with idols. He began to interact with the Jews and Gentile God-worshippers in the synagogue. He also addressed whoever happened to be in the marketplace each day. Certain Epicurean and Stoic philosophers engaged him in discussion too. Some said, “What an amateur! What’s he trying to say?” Others remarked, “He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign gods.” (They said this because he was preaching the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) They took him into custody and brought him to the council on Mars Hill. “What is this new teaching? Can we learn what you are talking about? You’ve told us some strange things and we want to know what they mean.” (They said this because all Athenians as well as the foreigners who live in Athens used to spend their time doing nothing but talking about or listening to the newest thing.)

Paul stood up in the middle of the council on Mars Hill and said, “People of Athens, I see that you are very religious in every way. As I was walking through town and carefully observing your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: ‘To an unknown God.’ What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you. God, who made the world and everything in it, is Lord of heaven and earth. He doesn’t live in temples made with human hands. Nor is God served by human hands, as though he needed something, since he is the one who gives life, breath, and everything else. From one person God created every human nation to live on the whole earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their lands. God made the nations so they would seek him, perhaps even reach out to him and find him. In fact, God isn’t far away from any of us. In God we live, move, and exist. As some of your own poets said, ‘We are his offspring.’

“Therefore, as God’s offspring, we have no need to imagine that the divine being is like a gold, silver, or stone image made by human skill and thought. God overlooks ignorance of these things in times past, but now directs everyone everywhere to change their hearts and lives. This is because God has set a day when he intends to judge the world justly by a man he has appointed. God has given proof of this to everyone by raising him from the dead.”

When they heard about the resurrection from the dead, some began to ridicule Paul. However, others said, “We’ll hear from you about this again.” At that, Paul left the council. Some people joined him and came to believe, including Dionysius, a member of the council on Mars Hill, a woman named Damaris, and several others. --Acts 17:16-34 (CEB)

We get most hung up in this story, I think, on the idols. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps, it’s because that, for most of us from a very young age, that first commandment is impressed into us - You shall have no other gods. It’s the first of those ten commandments first given by God to Moses to guide and shape Israel and then, in different way, the followers of Jesus. 

To follow an idol is, for most of us, a sin, right? But, I think that when we focus most on the idols, we miss an important aspect to this story - we miss the story of Paul and Paul’s response. After all, the truth is that we are continuously idolaters ourselves, if we truly want to admit it. Think about all the things that keep you from church on Sunday morning, those things that draw you away from worshiping God. Those idols. And it becomes clear that, perhaps, we are quite like those ancient Athenians. 

But the topic of idolatry. The topic of sin. The topic of violating the first commandment isn’t my focus this morning. Instead, my focus is on Paul.

I want you to think back a couple of weeks to the story of where we first met Paul and heard the story of his conversion. If you recall, Paul was on his way to Damascus. To do what? Yep. Not just take names, but to take prisoners - Jesus followers - back to Jerusalem. This is Paul the zealot. The one who, at least in his circle, was doing the right thing by ridding Judaism of these “sinners.” Hunting them down and, in doing so, ridding his religious community of these rabble-rousers, these people who are challenging the status quo in his belief system and that of his fellow Pharisees - religious leaders steeped in the Torah - in God’s teachings. (In some ways, this feels a little too close to the horrific events of yesterday in Buffalo.) 

But something drastic has changed him, hasn’t it? It's while on the hunt that he runs smack-dab into Jesus. Soon, he is preaching a different message. A message that, in many places, runs him right up against the religious establishment. Against believers and religious leaders who, like the Paul we first met, are trying to protect their status quo. Their traditions. Their belief systems. 

And, then, he comes to Athens. This place known as the intellectual and cultural center of the known world. Think Socrates. Plato. Pythagoras. Aristotle. It was here, in Athens, that new ideas were formed. New philosophies developed. Think Harvard. Or Stanford. 

Paul, shaped and formed by the Torah and all of the ritual and levitical regulations of the Hebrew scriptures, is rightly disturbed by the idols that he sees all around him. But, most stunning about what Paul does with his anger and his distress at the idols is not to turn away or to react in fear toward the Athenians, but to move toward them. To move in closer. Even, as the gospel demands, to the point of touching and holding them. With no regard for ritual purity. Or faithfulness to God’s covenantal laws. This man, who once agreed with the stoning of Stephen, now stands surrounded by idols that make him furious, but he must now yield to the Spirit. Who calls him to a new word. A new way of being.

What do you say to those who are radically different from you? Those who are radically outside you and your own belief system? What do you say to those whose way of life, or belief system, or whose religions or rituals, or even race, you have been taught to loathe?

The old Paul might have spewed words of hate at them. Might have distanced himself from them so as not to become ritually pure. But, the new Paul. The transformed Paul. The Paul who has met Jesus moves in. Closer. To the synagogue. Then to the marketplace, which is not just a place to buy stuff, but a marketplace of ideas, that is so Athens. 

The new Paul meets them where they are. Speaks to them in words given him by the Holy Spirit. Words that seek to connect with them. Not to condemn them. Or to destroy them. But to reach them. To share with them what has changed him. That there is a single God who has created all things, from whom all people - Jew and Gentile alike - descend. Who wants every…single…person to know of God’s love for them. Embodied in Jesus Christ, resurrected from the dead.

It’s this business of the resurrection that proves to be a sticking point for some. But, even so, there are a few whose minds remain open to this new thing this previously unknown God has done. This new thing that God continues to do. And yet, even for those whose minds are not changed by Paul’s message, they walk away not feeling as though their own belief system has been condemned, or characterized as worthless.

Yesterday, we witnessed another mass shooting. And although we don’t have all of the information yet, it is becoming clear that this attack was racially motivated. An attack that might be something similar to what the old Paul might carry out. An attack that stems from fear. Fear of the other. Fear of change. Fear of difference.

How does this story - this narrative of Paul’s transformation as much as that of the Athenians - inform our response as people of God? How does it inform our mission here?

Perhaps it's a model for us of how we share our own experiences of Jesus. Not a model like that of Christians in times past - and some today - who as they burn with cultural and political (and racial) superiority, engage in mission by literally burning down idols to bring in Bibles and bullets. To enforce their perceived way of being Christ in the world. A way that, in truth, is anti-Christ. 

Because the Christ we know, like the new Paul we just heard about, operates from a model that moves in closer to those who are different, to meet them where they are. As they are. With no animosity. No condemnation. Or, in often overlooked words of John 3.17, no judgment. Only a desire to see the world be whole. To bring life.

It’s the model of a transformed Paul. It’s the model of a resurrected and transforming Jesus, who, through us, continues to seek out all people, loved by God, to move closer to them. To meet them where they are. 

May it be our model as well. Amen.

Preached May 15, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville, and New Goshen Presbyterian, Prospect.

Easter 5

Readings: Acts 17:16-34, John 1:16-18

Good News Spreads: That Church

Our story today is about Paul. Or Saul, depending what language you are speaking. Saul didn’t change his name to Paul after his conversation. Saul is simply the Hebrew version of Paul, which is Greek. It’s like the difference between John, which is English, and Johannes, which is the German form of John. And vice versa. 

Now that we’ve got that straight, we can move forward with our story. We’re making a bit a leap forward from last Sunday’s text about Thomas and about his experience with Jesus. Saul appears in the New Testament after Jesus has ascended. And after the Holy Spirit - promised by Jesus - has been poured out onto the believers at Pentecost. 

This Jewish community of Jesus followers is growing by leaps and bounds. If you remember that Pentecost story, something three or four thousand were baptized in one day. The early disciples are speaking truth to their religious leaders - the Jewish religious leaders - about Jesus. This truth-speaking is not without consequence. Just before today’s story, is the story of the stoning of Stephen, the first martyr of these Jesus followers, these people who called themselves “The Way.” At the edges of the scene of Stephen’s martyrdom is where we first meet Saul, where we read at the beginning of Acts 8, rather ominously, “Saul was in full agreement with Stephen’s murder.”

Stephen’s death was the beginning of vicious harassment of the people of The Way. They quickly left Jerusalem and scattered through the surrounding regions to get away from the violence. Soon after, we again read these words in the early verses of Acts 8: “Saul began to wreak havoc against the church. Entering one house after another, he would drag off both men and women and throw them into prison.”

Saul. Devout. Faithful. Was a zealot. What he was doing was, in his mind, the right thing to do. It’s at this point that our story opens today, which we will read in three scenes.

Meanwhile, Saul was still spewing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest, seeking letters to the synagogues in Damascus. If he found persons who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, these letters would authorize him to take them as prisoners to Jerusalem. During the journey, as he approached Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven encircled him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice asking him, “Saul, Saul, why are you harassing me?”

Saul asked, “Who are you, Lord?”

“I am Jesus, whom you are harassing,” came the reply. “Now get up and enter the city. You will be told what you must do.”

Those traveling with him stood there speechless; they heard the voice but saw no one. After they picked Saul up from the ground, he opened his eyes but he couldn’t see. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. For three days he was blind and neither ate nor drank anything. --Acts 9:1-9 (CEB)

Paul was desperate to stop these people who were undermining his religious tradition. So desperate in fact that he went to high priest to get letters for the synagogues in Damascus about 200 miles away. These letters introduce him to the synagogue leaders and authorize him, on behalf of the high priest, to capture and take Jesus believers - men and women - back to prison in Jerusalem. Paul was acting under the authority of the religious leaders. 

But along the way to Damascus, something completely unexpected happened to him. Like the Thomas narrative last week, the theme of believing without seeing is picked up in today’s story. But, in Saul’s conversion it is the story of believing by not seeing. Like Thomas last week, Saul has his own unique experience with Jesus. An experience that completely disrupts his life. An experience that makes him vulnerable - a vulnerability that he can’t run away from, or try to deny, or try to reason away. Saul has an experience in which he meets Jesus and is forever changed. 

Do you notice what Jesus says to him is this brief interchange on the road? Jesus’ first words to Saul are “Why are you persecuting me?” Why are you persecuting me? Jesus asks him. Saul isn’t persecuting Jesus. Or so we think. But, whenever we persecute any follower of Jesus, any member of the body of Christ, we - like Saul - are persecuting Jesus himself. 

Saul’s friends lead him to a house in Damascus, where he waits in his blindness for three days. For his own resurrection.

Our story continues. Scene 2.

In Damascus there was a certain disciple named Ananias. The Lord spoke to him in a vision, “Ananias!”

He answered, “Yes, Lord.”

The Lord instructed him, “Go to Judas’ house on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul. He is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias enter and put his hands on him to restore his sight.”

Ananias countered, “Lord, I have heard many reports about this man. People say he has done horrible things to your holy people in Jerusalem. He’s here with authority from the chief priests to arrest everyone who calls on your name.”

The Lord replied, “Go! This man is the agent I have chosen to carry my name before Gentiles, kings, and Israelites. I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” --Acts 9:10-16 (CEB)

Like Paul, Jesus comes to Ananias in a vision. Ananias was, as our text tells us, a faithful disciple living in Damascus. God directs him to go to Saul, staying in a house on Straight Street (no pun intended). And just as most faithful disciples - or prophets - respond to God’s call, his first question to Jesus, is “Are you crazy?” You want me to go to this man - this persecutor of my fellow believers, my friends, those whom I love - so that I can lay hands on him and heal him of his blindness. Yeah. No.

It’s interesting isn’t it. That just as this is a story of Saul’s conversion, it is just as much a story of the conversion of Ananias. He has his own blind spot, not only with Saul, but also with regard to the power of God to transform. He knows Saul as an enemy of God’s saints. He knows Saul as having free reign to bind those who invoke the name of Jesus. And, not so surprising to us, probably much like we would respond, he doesn’t want to go anywhere near him.

But God has plans for Saul. For this agent - this vessel - that God intends to use to spread the good news of abundant life in Jesus. Ananias will be called to serve Saul, so that he, in turn, can serve those whom he persecuted. Gentiles. Then, kings. And the people of Israel. God will, in time, reveal to Saul how much he must suffer for the sake of God’s name - suffering that Paul lists later in his letter to the church in Corinth. Beatings. A shipwreck. Imprisonment. And on and on. Not that God desires this suffering, but that God knows the fearful human response that comes from living according to the Way of Jesus Christ, this way of peace, of truth, of life. The human response is a violent response that comes out of fear. Fear of being vulnerable. Of being open to a new Way. Open to Jesus. Where death leads to life. Oppression, freedom. Hatred, love.

We continue with Scene 3, our closing scene.

Ananias went to the house. He placed his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord sent me—Jesus, who appeared to you on the way as you were coming here. He sent me so that you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Instantly, flakes fell from Saul’s eyes and he could see again. He got up and was baptized. After eating, he regained his strength. --Acts 9:17-19a (CEB)

What a powerful response by Ananias! He lets go of the fear. Of the hurt. Of the possibility of his own death. And goes to Saul. Lays his hands on him. Calls him, “Brother.” Then baptizes him, by which Saul is cleansed and purified, reborn and brought to new life through the Holy Spirit. And welcomed into the community - into the body of Christ. With a snack to boot!

This story of Saul’s conversion. This is the story of mutual conversion - Saul and Ananias. Is a story of disruption. About the way that God works in our world, where God breaks into our lives in surprising ways. Upsetting our understanding of things or to challenge our belief system. Working through unexpected people. And changing us to be a people - a church - of hospitality and welcome. It is a story about how God calls us - the Church - to be. A place of truth, where we recognize the complexity in one another, where we have pasts that may not always be so pretty. Yet, where we are called to embrace each other in all of our differences. Where we move away from division, and violence, and fear, and retribution, to a place of invitation. Of openness. Of acceptance. And, where we, like Thomas, like Saul, and like Ananias, experience Jesus. Here. Now.

May we be that Church. Amen.

Preached May 1, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

Easter 3

Readings: Acts 9:1-19a, Matthew 6:24

Partners and Promise: Our Inheritance (and Responsibility)

 Today, we begin four weeks in Ephesians. Before we dive in, I’d like to offer a few notes about the context and circumstances, as well as, the authorship of this letter. Although this letter has historically been attributed to the apostle Paul, it has become fairly widely accepted that Paul did not write this letter. There was a practice in the first century of later authors writing under the name of an honored teacher or predecessor. The author of this letter adopts Paul’s name, the style and form in which he wrote, and other typical features of Paul’s writing as a way of honoring Paul, but also relating Paul’s teaching for a new time and new circumstances in the church.

It is also understood that this letter is addressed to later congregations, some one to two generations after the churches Paul planted. They reflect churches that are organized and structured and that have specific leadership roles. These are more mature churches. Likely located in Asia Minor - present day Turkey. There is a hint of discord and division in the churches. In chapter 4, we read that they are being “tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine” that was coming, perhaps, from newer teaching not consistent with that of Paul and of their heritage. The primary concern of the author is that the unity of the church be maintained. 

Today, we read from Ephesians, chapter 1.

1 From Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by God’s will.

To the holy and faithful people in Christ Jesus in Ephesus.

2 Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

3 Bless the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! He has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing that comes from heaven. 4 God chose us in Christ to be holy and blameless in God’s presence before the creation of the world. 5 God destined us to be his adopted children through Jesus Christ because of his love. This was according to his goodwill and plan 6 and to honor his glorious grace that he has given to us freely through the Son whom he loves. 7 We have been ransomed through his Son’s blood, and we have forgiveness for our failures based on his overflowing grace, 8 which he poured over us with wisdom and understanding. 9 God revealed his hidden design to us, which is according to his goodwill and the plan that he intended to accomplish through his Son. 10 This is what God planned for the climax of all times: to bring all things together in Christ, the things in heaven along with the things on earth. 11 We have also received an inheritance in Christ. We were destined by the plan of God, who accomplishes everything according to his design. 12 We are called to be an honor to God’s glory because we were the first to hope in Christ. 13 You too heard the word of truth in Christ, which is the good news of your salvation. You were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit because you believed in Christ. 14 The Holy Spirit is the down payment on our inheritance, which is applied toward our redemption as God’s own people, resulting in the honor of God’s glory. --Ephesians 1:1-14 (CEB)

These opening verses are nothing other than a hymn of praise to God. They follow an ancient Hebrew tradition - the berakah, meaning blessing - a tradition that originated in response to an act of God’s deliverance. The Greek word for blessing, used here, is where we get the word “eulogy” - that practice, especially after one has died, of remembering and giving thanks for a life.

These first 14 verses are a eulogy to God. A song of praise celebrating the wealth and the abundance of God’s grace. Over and over we hear words repeated that, piled onto each other, speak of the riches of all that God has done. 

But this opening song is a distinctly Christian song of praise. It is linked to the presence and work of the Spirit that comes to us by way of our adoption as God’s children in Christ. Adoption that, through our baptisms, has brought us into God’s presence. Where we find forgiveness. Where we are given the gift of the Holy Spirit as downpayment on God’s future promises.

I first met Jesus in an adoption courtroom. I’ve mentioned many times to you of the years I worked in the court system in LA. For a couple of years, I was a relief clerk in the civil and family law divisions downtown. The adoption courtroom was located in the midst of the family law division, set among many departments that handled divorces. Difficult, acrimonious, and hard places to be. But, the adoption courtroom was different. It was my favorite courtroom to work in. A place of pure joy. Jesus was a little boy I met there, who, even though he was still young, had lived a difficult and hard life. He had been abused as a toddler, suffering through cigarette burns, broken bones, beatings and all of the related trauma of severe child abuse. Even though he was only 9 years old, he had been in the foster system since the age of three - in foster homes that, honestly, weren’t much better than the abusive home he’d escaped.

But, then he moved into the home of Fernando and Mary, a couple who’d been able to have a child of their own. Here, he found structure. And safety. But, mostly, here he found love. So, the day I met all of them was the day, four years later, that Jesus would formally be adopted by his new parents. There were balloons and stuffed animals everywhere. There was joy everywhere. It was a celebration of this new family, who had been brought together in adoption. 

You and I are also people of adoption. You and I have been adopted by God in our baptisms. Into places of refuge and safety, to which we have been called and are re-called over and over in our daily walking wet - as Luther calls it. A cleansing and renewal that we need and that is ours every day. Adopted into the forgiveness we receive in Christ. Given the gift of the Spirit as a downpayment. It is all part of God’s plan - a plan made well before the foundation of the world. Not some quick, last minute idea on God’s part, but a long-developed plan to have an intimate relationship with each one of us through Christ. God, who loved us before we were born and who loves us even more now. Who showers us with grace. Who continues to deliver us from the difficulty and hardship of life, even that of pandemic life. 

But, that’s not all! That isn’t all there is to God’s plan. There is so much more - an even bigger plan than the lavish grace that forgives our sins and buys us back from all that would seek to own us. God’s plan is to gather not just us in Christ, but to gather all things up into Christ. A plan that continues to unfold. So that the love, healing, wisdom, and welcome that we receive in our baptisms into Christ will be the same for all creation. It is through Christ that the mystery of God’s cosmic plan is revealed.

This is our destiny as people of God. This is the destiny of all creation. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Preached July 11, 2021, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Goshen, and Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Ephesians 1:1-14, Acts 2:37-42, Psalm 46

Birth of the Church: Building God's Beloved Community

We began this preaching series at the end - following the crucifixion, we have walked through the days of the early church, from Jesus’ appearances to his disciples to early days of conflict. Today, we remember that all are welcome in this place, and we are all part of the big picture - God’s picture of gathering all people into beloved community. We read today from the third chapter of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. 

You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly exhibited as crucified! The only thing I want to learn from you is this: Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? Did you experience so much for nothing?—if it really was for nothing. Well then, does God supply you with the Spirit and work miracles among you by your doing the works of the law, or by your believing what you heard?

Just as Abraham “believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness,” so, you see, those who believe are the descendants of Abraham. And the scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, declared the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, “All the Gentiles shall be blessed in you.” For this reason, those who believe are blessed with Abraham who believed.

Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise. --Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29 (NRSV)

When I first moved to southern California in 1978, I was a redneck. And I say that in the most honest and true ways. I’d grown up on a ranch. And, although I went to a boarding school for high school, I’d never really experienced life outside that context: northern European, white, rural. 

You can imagine what a culture shock Los Angeles was for me. This sense of cultural difference continued through most of the time I lived there. Even after 20 years, my life was still one of growth and transformation, set in the context of a huge, continuously changing, diverse community.

It was then that I began working at the regional body of a public sector labor union. Say or think what you may about a labor union, our primary goal was to help people understand and build power for themselves. We sometimes think that power, and amassing power, is a bad thing. But power can be used constructively. To drive social change, to improve lives, to bring about greater equity and fairness. 

The people I worked with were so diverse. In fact, I, as a white person, was in the minority. I’d never worked in a place quite like this. I’d never been in such close contact on a daily basis with people of color. African-American, Latinx, Asian, Jewish. We were a diverse group. It was here that I first tasted soul food. Or bagels with lox. Or pancit. It was an amazing multi-cultural experience. 

And, yet, there were times when it wasn’t amazing. When we clashed over cultural differences. Or over the ways in which we understood or had experienced life and the work we were doing. Sometimes this led to deep disagreement.

It’s this - this disagreement that can come from our differences - that Paul is talking about in our text today. Last week, we heard the underlying reasons for the conflict between the Jewish and Gentile believers in the churches in Galatia - what we know as present day Turkey. Paul understands that the Galatians churches have become so focused on the argument around practices of the Torah and, particularly, the practice of circumcision. He understands that the churches have become so focused on this argument that they’ve become completely distracted in their faith. That they’ve become so focused on the circumcision agenda, that they’ve forgotten what had been happening in their midst - the amazing transformation work of the Spirit. 

Paul isn’t throwing out the law. His letter is a reaction to those who are saying that the law is paramount. It’s an argument that just the law, for the sake of the law, is not faithful to God. So, Paul reaches back to Abraham and makes the point that God counted Abraham righteous, not because of the law, but because of his faith. Faith came first for Abraham, then the law. And the purpose of the law was not to bind them, but to transform them as a people, to set them apart. So that, from Abraham and his descendants - this people set apart - would come One who would fulfill the law in its entirety. And, in the process, blow the doors of God’s beloved community wide open. 

Or as one theologian puts it: The redefinition of the people of God is now complete. Before the coming of Christ that people’s pride was the law; it was the gift of God which set her apart as a special people, unlike other nations and religions. By attention to the law she sought to maintain her privileged position as the chosen of God. Then the Messiah came, and the question of who really belongs to God’s people was transformed. Christ fulfilled a promise to Abraham which had to do with the expansion of his family as a component in their heritage. The people of God no longer are determined by the law but by Christ, belonging to him, being joined to him in baptism. But to redefine God’s people in this way is to imply revolutionary consequences for the nature of the new fellowship. (Charles Cousar)

So, when Paul gets to that infamous passage - there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, Paul isn’t advocating for some massive social revolution. Instead, he is calling for the Galatian churches, separated by their differences, to remember what connects them. What unites them. And what transforms them into beloved community. It is their unity made possible only through Christ.

The distinctions don’t evaporate. They are simply left powerless. Because the distinctions are cultural constructions, not the will of God. In God through Christ, there is only oneness. And, as the people - the body - of Christ, the Galatians, and we, are called to continue this trajectory. Not of “saving souls,” but of building and expanding beloved community here. And out there.

---

It was unity of purpose that eventually led my co-workers and I to work through our differences. Not in a way that insisted we all be the same or do the work in the same way. But, in a unified way, even in the midst of our diversity of backgrounds, experience, ethnicity or even food.

May this be our desire for the church, which is God’s desire for the church. That, regardless of our differences, our bond to one another is in Christ. And may the Spirit continue to transform us, so that we might continue the work of expanding God’s beloved community in our time and place. Amen.

 

Birth of the Church: Being Radical

Last week, we heard about a conflict in the church in Antioch - a division between Jewish and Gentile Christians - that was resolved through listening and compromise at the first ecumenical council in Jerusalem.

As we near the end of the Narrative Lectionary year, we will be spending this last three weeks in Galatians - Paul’s letter to the churches in Galatia, including the church in Antioch. This letter provides us with a view of Paul’s perspective of the disagreement we first heard about last week. This letter is also central to our Christian faith and our understanding of the doctrine of justification. It is also a letter that is often called the Magna Carta on Christian freedom. 

So, this morning, we read in Galatians, chapters 1 and 2.

You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors. But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus.

But when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood self-condemned; for until certain people came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But after they came, he drew back and kept himself separate for fear of the circumcision faction. And the other Jews joined him in this hypocrisy, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. But when I saw that they were not acting consistently with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?”

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing. --Galatians 1:13-17; 2:11-21 (NRSV)

Have you ever struggled with playing it safe instead of being radical? 

A few years ago in my former church in Pasadena, we experienced this. For several years, we had professed and believed that we were a hospitable congregation, welcoming all people. And, for the most part, we were.

Yet, we had a problem with the homeless population in our neighborhood. They liked to camp out overnight on the church property. Usually, though, if we gave them a little cash or let them use the phone or internet, or allowed them to stay overnight, well, eventually, they would move on. 

But, then, Monica and Vern arrived. (I’ve changed their names.) They lived in a beat up, broken-down van - a van they parked at the edge of our parking lot. Figuring they would move on as so many others had, we were polite. And helpful. And hopeful that they would eventually leave.

But, they didn’t leave. In fact, they started to push themselves into our congregation. When we opened up on Sunday morning, Vern was right there to help set up tables for morning fellowship. Both of them began coming to Sunday morning Bible study. Monica asked if she could sing in the choir. And on and on. They just continued to push their way in the
congregation.

Now mind you, most congregations would be thrilled with newcomers like this. How often do we proclaim our openness to visitors and our desire for them to become a part of us? How thrilled we would be if newcomers wanted to immediately become so involved!

To be truthful, we weren’t really all that thrilled. We weren’t thrilled because Monica and Vern were so different from us. For one thing, they were homeless. For another, well, they didn’t have regular access to showers. And so, sometimes, they smelled a little. Sometimes, they smelled a lot. They didn’t always say or do the “right” things. They didn’t fit into our norm. Into our small-minded, closed-hearted norm of what our church should look like.

And so, we struggled with being radical people. With being followers of a radical Gospel that teaches us that each one of us is enough and is good enough. That God has done it all for us and for every person. That there is nothing - nothing - we need do to be made righteous. That all of us, whether Jew or Gentile, whether white or black, whether gay or straight, whether binary or non-binary, all of us are made righteous before God through Christ Jesus. That is radical.

But, that’s not all. For too long we have used language that has rejected the validity of the covenant of God with the Jewish people. Parts of this letter, written by Paul, were used in the mid-20th century as a basis to extinguish the lives of millions of people. Even Luther, in his writings, used this part of Galatians to malign the Jews.  Because in large part, we have misconstrued what Paul is saying here. 

After decades of scholarship, it is now generally recognized that first-century Jews didn’t actually think that their “right status” with God came from keeping the Torah. Instead, like us, they believed they were saved solely by God’s grace. But, they also believed that their saved status was demonstrated by their obedience to the Torah, practices that marked them as God’s people, that set them apart. 

So, when Paul writes in chapter 2 that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith, this is not a diatribe against Judaism and the keeping of the Torah. Paul was a Jew, who kept the Torah religiously. Instead, if we look in the first chapter of Galatians, verse 16, we have a clue. Here Paul notes that Jesus was revealed to be God’s Son so that he might “proclaim him among the Gentiles.” Woven into the letter to the Galatians is a key idea - that the ancient promise of God - the covenant with Abraham to bless all the families of the world through his people - is now being fulfilled by the Messiah, Jesus. Christianity is not superior to Judaism. Rather, as one theologian puts it, “Christianity exists as the gracious fulfillment of the already gracious Judaism. It is the climax of the covenant, fulfilled in Jesus, through whom, as John writes, we have received grace upon grace upon grace. The holy Scripture tells this story - of how God’s past, present and future grace goes forth from Israel to the world through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ.

So, when Paul opposes Peter to his face, it’s not because Peter was a legalist, attempting to earn his way into heaven. Instead, Paul is saying Peter was acting hypocritically by leading others in a way that was out of step, even contrary, to the multi-ethnic, cross-cultural, radical nature of the gospel. By refusing to eat with Gentile Christians when a faction of Jewish Christians arrived in Antioch, Peter was essentially saying that there were two classes of Christians, divided by ethnic lines. And that to be a “real” Christian, one must live according to the markers of the Torah. But, Paul was having none of that. Because Paul’s idea of justification by faith in this letter is not an individual act of inclusion, but a communal act of inclusion - bringing the non-Jews into the sect of Jesus believers. It answers the question of who’s in and who’s not. For Paul, because of the radical faithfulness of Christ, nobody is out. Everybody is in. 

Monica and Vern eventually became a beloved part of our Pasadena church. Members. We learned to live into being the radical people of love that the Gospel called us to be. And, when they decided to move on, nearly two years later, we were heartbroken to see them go. 

This is what it means to be radical people of a radical Gospel, whether we are from Galatia or Pasadena, from Goshen or Louisville. To be people reaching out by grace to grab for dear life onto the perfect divine life of Jesus Christ, given for us. To be a new creation, given a new status. Included. Transformed by grace. To love. Deeply. According to the will of our God and Father. 

To God be the glory forever and ever. Amen.

Preached May 9, 2021, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran/Goshen, KY, and Third Lutheran/Louisville, KY.

Easter 6

Readings: Galatians 1:13-17, 2:11-21; Luke 18:9-14

Birth of the Church: The Old and the New

Our story today begins with a conflict. It is a disagreement between Jesus followers over what is required for salvation.

The story last week about the Ethiopian eunuch marks a dividing point in Acts. Between the ministry that, to this point, has been primarily to Jews and those who worshipped the God of Israel, and the ministry to the Gentiles, which, in the Jewish perspective, is everyone else. 

In between last week’s and this week’s reading, we see the beginning of the church’s ministry to the Gentiles. These chapters include the conversion of Saul, who will change his name as he begins his own ministry with Barnabas, his colleague and companion. They travel to Antioch, which is a town, north of Judea, in present-day Syria.

But, it’s not only Paul and Barnabas who are preaching the Good News of Jesus to Gentiles. In Acts 10, Peter has a transformative experience. A vision that leads him to Cornelius, a Gentile, God-fearing centurion who belongs to the Italian Cohort - a unit of archers, that is based at the Roman administrative center in Caesarea. In his vision, Peter receives a message - that he is not to call anything “unclean” that God has made “clean.” It is a genesis moment for Peter, who will then, like Paul and Barnabas, begin in earnest to share the Good News with Gentiles.

But, there is a problem. A conflict. A theological question around the issue of circumcision. “How could a Gentile possibly participate in the blessings promised to the covenant people?” In short, how can Gentiles be saved, without being circumcised? The concern is not about exclusion because of race, but inclusion within God’s covenant.

Our reading is from Acts, chapter 15. 

Then certain individuals came down from Judea and were teaching the brothers, “Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved.” And after Paul and Barnabas had no small dissension and debate with them, Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to discuss this question with the apostles and the elders. So they were sent on their way by the church, and as they passed through both Phoenicia and Samaria, they reported the conversion of the Gentiles, and brought great joy to all the believers. When they came to Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the church and the apostles and the elders, and they reported all that God had done with them. But some believers who belonged to the sect of the Pharisees stood up and said, “It is necessary for them to be circumcised and ordered to keep the law of Moses.”

The apostles and the elders met together to consider this matter. After there had been much debate, Peter stood up and said to them, “My brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers. And God, who knows the human heart, testified to them by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as he did to us; and in cleansing their hearts by faith he has made no distinction between them and us. Now therefore why are you putting God to the test by placing on the neck of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.”

The whole assembly kept silence, and listened to Barnabas and Paul as they told of all the signs and wonders that God had done through them among the Gentiles. After they finished speaking, James replied, “My brothers, listen to me. Simeon has related how God first looked favorably on the Gentiles, to take from among them a people for his name. This agrees with the words of the prophets, as it is written,

‘After this I will return,

and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen;

    from its ruins I will rebuild it,

        and I will set it up,

so that all other peoples may seek the Lord—

    even all the Gentiles over whom my name has been called.

        Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things known from long ago.’ 

--Acts 15:1-18 (NRSV)

The disagreement begins in Antioch. Other apostles, presumably in good faith, have come into the community and have begun to preach that, in order for Gentiles to be saved, they must be circumcised. Paul and Barnabas get into it with these apostles. We can only imagine the argument that must have occurred. 

It is agreed among church leaders that Paul and Barnabas and a few others should go to the elder apostles of the church in Jerusalem, bringing this question. They recognize that, to require circumcision of every male believer in the Antioch church would be viewed as culturally inappropriate - an act of mutilation. 

So, Paul and Barnabas and the others go. As they travel south, going through other Gentile countries, they begin to witness how broadly the Holy Spirit has been at work. By the time they reach Jerusalem they are overjoyed with what they have seen on their travels. The council in Jerusalem also rejoice over this news. Except for a few, who continue to insist that the Gentile believers must be circumcised.

Notice what happens next. Paul and Barnabas and Peter don’t simply write off the council in Jerusalem. Instead, they honor this relationship. And together enter into dialogue about what to do.

Peter begins. Reminding them of his earlier revelation from God and his experience with Cornelius. He argues from a position of grace - of inclusive grace - that there is no difference between “them” and “us” - between the Jewish and Gentile believers. That, if the leadership requires the same yoke of circumcision on the Gentiles they will not simply be burdening them, but will be putting God to the test. Because it is clear to them that God, through the Holy Spirit, has been at work among these believers.

The leaders are silent. They do not interrupt or disagree. They simply listen to Peter’s argument. Then, Paul and Barnabas share their experiences. What they have been witness to in their ministry. The signs and wonders that God has been doing in the midst of these Gentile communities.

When they finish, notice what happens next. Each side makes concessions for the sake of unity. No longer will circumcision be required for Gentiles believers. Yet, these same believers will be required to engage in certain practices that all believers - Jewish and Gentile - will be compelled to follow.

What’s the lesson for us in this text? Perhaps it's that none of our own experiences are better or worse than any others - they are just different. We all come to faith in our own ways. We come with different histories, perspectives, and expectations. These different perceptions are not right or wrong - they just are. It’s part of the joy and the frustration of bringing people together. Yet, when we learn to listen to each other, to our leadership, and to the Word of God, and we are all working on the same goal - sharing the Good News of life through Jesus - we can learn to work together, despite our differences.

What are the yokes we need to shed? How are we constraining the work of the Holy Spirit? As we begin to move out of pandemic life, these are questions that we must be asking. And, like the early church, may we err on the side of grace, inclusiveness, love, and unity. Because these are the markers of the church. These are the markers of God. Yesterday, today, forever. Amen.

Preached May 9, 2021, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran, Goshen, KY, and Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.

Easter 5

Readings: Acts 15:1-18, Luke Luke 2:29-32