A Sermon for Sunday November 10, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church and Trinity Presbyterian Church of Decatur. Co-Sermon with Rev. Xavier Coombs, Trinity Pres Decatur. Mark 12:38-44.
Xavier:
We stand before you today to share that we’ve had to both sit with the painful acknowledgement and understanding of this presidential election, along with you and millions of Americans. We want to assure you that it’s ok to feel sad, confused, scared and uncertain about the present and the future.
Andy:
As I said often during the pandemic, it’s ok to not be ok. In that spirit, we want to encourage you to seek out community and people to talk to about how you’ve been struggling with this debacle and who to trust or feel safe around. Also, breathe, and drink water, and make sure to carve out time for self-care. The road ahead is long and the work of social justice is exhausting.
Xavier:
We know in this very sanctuary that there are many who are hurting. We know that there are people who are legitimately worried and fearful for their lives and the well-being of their families—especially women, people of color and LGBTQ persons. First and foremost, we want to say that we love you and we see you and we are here for each and every one of you during this time of grief and upheaval. You are not alone.
Secondly, we want to caution everyone, ourselves included, from sliding into permanent despondency and despair. The fascist and authoritarian regime that was elected on Tuesday wants those who oppose them to remain hopeless and apathetic because that’s what fuels their power and control. We must be strong in our faith and united in our love for God in Christ Jesus who alone is Lord and the sovereign presence in our lives.
In our gospel text for today, Mark 12:38-44, the author presents two contrasting views of communal living. In the first, the religious authorities, the scribes, enjoy a system of hierarchy and flaunt their status at the top on a regular basis. The scribes are self-righteous and showy, acting as if they are the end-all and be-all of religion, all while harming the widows and the poor who they are supposed to care for and protect, per God’s commandments. These men wear their robes to garner respect and to also intimidate the people into letting them have unchecked influence and power. The wealthy take a cue from the behavior of the scribes by also acting gaudy in public and the temple, putting in large sums of money into the offering plate so everyone knows they are most important. They view community as something they control and lord over and manipulate for their own advantage which is not actual authentic communal living. They claim to do these things in God’s name; however their actions are not of God.
Andy:
On the other hand, Jesus urges his followers to create a community of trust and love and faithfulness that is not based upon actions to be seen by another human but to be felt by the heart. We are to do those things that would build up and serve each other instead of glorifying our own need to be great. The widow gave her one penny because she saw a need. She gave all that she had whereas the wealthy gave out of their abundance because they wanted to be seen. Jesus says she gave out of her poverty meaning that in spite of living in hardship, she found a way to serve and give to others.
Xavier:
Likewise, even though we are heart-broken and dejected and emotionally and spiritually bankrupt, we still must find a way to give and support others within the strength of the beloved community. And we must find a way to share love with those who are hurting and are looking for a community where justice and equality are a priority.
Andy:
In response to election results that reveal the racism, misogyny and homophobia deeply embedded in this nation, we must stay connected to one another and lean on one another to get through this difficult time. We must continue to love God and neighbor, and not be quick to dismiss or ignore the cries of those whose rights are being threatened and stripped away. Like the saints throughout church history who proclaimed God’s power was mightier than an emperor or a king or an empire or a president, we too must live out the belief that God is the only one to whom we owe allegiance.
Andy:
The Confession of Belhar, one of the confessional documents of the Presbyterian Church (USA), which was written in the 1980s to oppose the racist system of apartheid in South Africa, says:
“We believe that God has revealed God’s self as the one who wishes to bring about justice and true peace among people;
that God in a world full of injustice and enmity, is in a special way the God of the destitute, the poor and the wronged;
that God calls the church to follow God in this; for God brings justice to the oppressed and gives bread to the hungry; that God frees the prisoner and restores sight to the blind; …
that God wishes to teach the church to do what is good and to seek the right; that the church must therefore stand by people in any form of suffering and need, which implies, among other things, that the church must witness against and strive against any form of injustice, so that justice may roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever flowing stream; that the church as the possession of God must stand where the Lord stands, namely against injustice and with the wronged. ..
We believe that, in obedience to Jesus Christ, its only head, the church is called to confess and to do all these things, even though the authorities and human laws forbid them and punishment and suffering be the consequence.”
For it is God alone who unites us as the body of Christ so we may tend to the parts of the body that need support and healing; it is God alone who showers us with grace, comforts us with love and grounds us in peace and justice. It is God alone who asks us to look inward and reflect on how we’ve allowed racism and misogyny and abhorrent, hateful and dehumanizing behavior to infect people’s hearts.
Xavier:
Friends, our work today remains the same as it did yesterday and last week: to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God.
May we do so together, side-by-side and hand-in-hand, tethered always to one another and Christ Jesus, our Lord. …Amen
A Sermon for Sunday November 3, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Mark 12:18-34
Earlier this week, I told my therapist, who is also a Presbyterian elder at local church, that the Sunday lectionary reading was about the two greatest commandments, to which he replied, “Oh, wow.” Since then, I have wrestled with what I was going to preach two days before one of the most pivotal moments in American history. So, let me begin by saying that the gospel—the word of God, the inspiration of the Spirit and the way of Christ—mysteriously meets us exactly where we are in life and in our journey of faith.
Jesus’ instruction to love God with all of your heart, soul, mind and strength and love your neighbor as yourself is undoubtedly being put to the test and will continue to be in the weeks and months ahead, regardless of the outcome of the presidential election. Those two commandments are the essence of what it means to abide in the goodness of God, to be a part of Christ’s radical grace and to help build the beloved community.
Followers of Jesus have known this for thousands of years and many saints have risked their lives to make the kingdom of God, where all are accepted and treated with dignity, a present reality in the world. The greatest commandments are so simple and yet many Christians struggle to grasp God’s desire for us to be in loving and merciful relationships with God and one another, and they demonize and dehumanize others because of their gender, sexuality, sexual orientation, economic status, race, culture and religion.
We are witnessing, in real time, outrageous and unconscionable public displays of bigotry, discrimination and cruelty that haven’t been seen in about 70 years, such as the recent political rally for former president Donald Trump at Madison Square Garden. The rally was unequivocally a white and Christian nationalist event chock full of racism and misogyny with callbacks to a Nazi rally at the same venue in 1939 that should make any decent, law-abiding citizen and person of faith sick to their stomachs.
And trust me, despite the gaslighting and shameless defending about what happened at the Garden, you saw what you saw and heard what you heard and you’re not crazy. We are undoubtedly staring evil in the face, and we are standing at a pivotal moment in which we must choose whether we are going to run away in fear or counter such wickedness with love. The Christian martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of a few German clergy who challenged Hitler’s Nazi regime which murdered six million Jewish people across central Europe, once said: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”
While voting and making our voices heard is a tenant of democracy, it alone doesn’t suffice. We must go beyond the checking of a box if we are to take seriously the commandments to love God and love neighbor. We must call out injustice and advocate for policies and laws that better our neighbors’ lives, especially the ostracized of society.
It is daunting, I know. But if we don’t take a stand for love, than who will? Because there will always be those who attempt to control and harm others. That concept was poignantly illustrated in the 2012 Marvel superhero film, The Avengers:
Loki, the villainous god of mischief, says to a kneeling crowd of frightened people, “It’s the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel”
As soon as he finishes speaking, an older Jewish gentleman, who presumably survived the Holocaust, stands up and declares, “Not to men like you.” Loki scoffs and says, “There are no men like me,” which prompts the gentleman to reply, “There are always men like you.”
There are always people who think they are meant to subjugate others, and turning a blind eye to the misery being afflicted upon other human beings is not how we love God and neighbor.
Calling other nations made up of people of color, “garbage,” is not how we love God and neighbor.
Demeaning the LGBTQ community and ridiculing trans people is not how we love God and neighbor.
Taking away people’s civil rights and the freedom to make health decision about their bodies is not how we love God and neighbor.
Trampling on the working poor and the homeless is not how we love God and neighbor.
Vilifying immigrants and spreading nasty lies about them, resulting in violent threats, is not how we love God and neighbor.
Pretending that racism is over and doesn’t exist is not how we love God and neighbor.
Abusing God’s name to push toxic ideologies that demean and hurt God’s people is how we love God and neighbor.
Inciting fear and violence when you’re angry and not getting your way is not how we love God and neighbor.
None of these things bring us closer to God, to neighbor or to the beloved community and kingdom of God. Selfish and atrocious behavior drives a wedge between God and our siblings.
But it doesn’t have to be like this, which is precisely why God in Christ shows us a better way…the way of divine love. As I shared yesterday during a memorial service, God’s love, writes the apostle Paul in his letter to the Corinthians, “bears all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Without love, we are nothing. Without the unique and gifted members of the body of Christ, we are nothing.
So as naïve as it may seem, we have to continue to strive to love God and neighbor, even if society tells us we’re foolish and wasting our time. There is no better instruction because the laws given to Moses and every aspect of life hinges on the greatest commandments to love God with all of our heart, mind, soul and strength and our neighbor as ourselves.
Mrs. Nora, a friend and member of Trinity Presbyterian Decatur, our sibling congregation who worships next door (in Fellowship Hall) likes to fondly say that no matter what happens–conflicts, disagreements, people not liking each other sometimes–that at the end of the day, “it’s all about the love.”
It’s all about the love. We are beholden to God and to each other. So let’s shout out that love, let’s sing about it, let’s stand up for it, and let us love God and neighbor.
A Sermon for Sunday October 20, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Stewardship Dedication Sunday. Acts 2:42-47 and Acts 4:32-37
Of the multitude of joyful experiences I’ve had over the last 48 years, nearly all of them are centered around table fellowship:
–grilling with friends in my college apartment while watching SEC football.
— meals at Los Bravos with classmates after end of the semester exams while studying at Columbia Theological Seminary
–Thanksgiving meals with my family
–dinners with middle and high school youth at My Father’s Pizza in Black Mountain, NC
–lunch of fresh tortillas stuffed with chicken and peppers and onions with a church mission team on the hillside of a remote village in Honduras.
–church picnics and barbecues and potlucks and receptions and…
–those wonderful afternoon garden parties this congregation had during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic where we would bring chairs and beverages and snacks and hang out in the outdoor sanctuary.
–and just a mere two weeks ago, we had a potluck following worship with our siblings from Trinity Pres Decatur before engaging in a mission activity with the Atlanta Community Food Bank.
That gathering and so many others like it make my heart leap every single time. But it isn’t solely the food that brings such delight but the people who have come to share food and conversation about what is happening in their lives. Together, in those moments, we share the ups and downs we’ve experienced, and we share tears and laughter, and we give comfort, empathy, wisdom and love to one another, for we are the church, a community of faith, a part of the body of Christ. Our purpose and calling is to be in relationship together, sharing and learning about each other’s perspectives on life, our encounters with the holy and the journey of faith. We affirm as much nearly every Sunday when we are saying the words of the EPC Covenant:
“In response to God’s love and forgiveness, we pledge to…minister faithfully to the poor, lonely, sick and those in need; to reach out, sharing our faith, inviting and welcoming others into our fellowship and to seek justice and healing in the church, community and world.”
As one of many, many Christian communities, we carry on the legacy of the early Christian church that is first spoken of in the Book of Acts. Listen again to a portion of today’s scripture readings from Acts 2 and 4:
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. …
Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold.
These newly formed communities of generosity, worship and celebration were the result of the festive Day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit inspired everyone to proclaim God’s goodness in different languages that could be heard and understood by all who were there. It is at this event that Peter and the apostles, encourage the Israelites to acknowledge that Jesus is the Messiah and the manifestation of the God of Israel who has now extended his covenant to the Gentiles.
However, not everyone back then was happy about this new God movement, this Jesus movement of loving God, who loves us unconditionally, and loving one’s neighbor as yourself. Chapters 3-5 of Acts, which was written by the author of Luke’s gospel, focuses on the hostility that the Jesus movement faced from the leaders of the Jerusalem Temple.
God’s “new temple,” (metaphorically speaking), the community of Jesus’ followers, are getting together every day in either the temple courts or at someone’s house to worship and take care of one another by donating property and possessions to a common fund for the poor and those who were struggling. Additionally, Peter and John were healing the sick and crippled outside the temple doors. They were following a practice described in the laws of The Torah (the first five books of what Christians call the Old Testament).
And the practice, according to The Torah, was supposed to be overseen in Jerusalem by its leaders. A video commentary on Acts by The Bible Project says:[1]
Luke’s point here is clear. The new temple of Jesus’ community is fulfilling the purpose that God always intended for the Jerusalem Temple, to be a place where heaven and earth meet, where people encounter God’s generosity and healing presence.
So, fast forward a couple thousand years to communities of Jesus’ followers in the 21stcentury, and it’s easy to see how Presbyterians and other mainline denominations created a system of beliefs, doctrines, polity, and spiritual guidance that reflect God’s call to be the body of Christ by sharing Christ’s love, through both our words and actions, with the poor, the marginalized, the oppressed and the suffering—with anyone and everyone because all are children of God, forever precious in God’s sight.
Our Stewardship theme this year comes from the book, God’s Gift of Generosity: Gratitude Beyond Stewardship, by retired Presbyterian minister, Karl B. Travis. Hear again a quote from the book that I mentioned in last week’s sermon that gets to the heart of what stewardship and being the church, the community of Jesus’ followers, the body of Christ is all about:
Every act of sharing, every word spoken with generous relationships, every exchange initiated within liberality, every thought and every dollar offered sacrificially opens our eyes to the broader vista of god’s ongoing restoration of the world, God’s eternal and ongoing ministries of reconciliation and redemption. We are more than mere tools for God’s generosity. We are God’s partners. We are collaborators in a conscious vision of what the world is meant for, where the world is heading—by and in God’s grace, through and because of the work of Jesus Christ. We are meant for life abundant in the kingdom. From the moment we are born, we are meant to be generous with God.
Travis then writes about how his view of God’s generosity and stewardship—of being partners, collaborators and stewards with God of the gifts we share with others—is rooted in a simple mantra: “You are a child of God, sealed by the Holy Spirit, marked as Christ’s forever. Nothing anyone ever says or does can’t make that not true.” He says further:
No matter the size of your home. No matter the gloss of your car. Little difference about the cut of your clothes, the complexity of your 1040, the prestige of your position. Children of God. Marked. Sealed. Forever.
If churches teach this—if we believe this!—there will annually be held around our congregations’ many kitchen tables a joyous declaration of independence as people engage the simple act of completing their pledge cards.
Honestly, stewardship pledges—the act of making a promise to share our resources of time, money and talents to serve God and God’s people—should illicit the same joy and exuberance as bringing food and drinks to a potluck. Without the community or congregation’s commitment to generosity, we wouldn’t be able to have a church or do ministry that nourishes and heals the heart, mind, body and soul. We are made to be together, to be in relationship and to share, even when society scowls at sharing.
Take a few seconds, now, to look at the photos in the 2024 Stewardship Booklets—those are real-life illustrations of a community that is helping to build a kingdom where life and love and joy and generosity and justice and equity and equality is abundant; where what we have in common is the material possessions we share and benefit from as a church, and more importantly what we have in common is: the hearts of kindness and mercy that connect us and bind us in communion with everyone in here, and everyone out there—a world groaning to hear that God’s grace is for all, regardless of what you’ve done or not done.
For God’s generosity and our invitation to be a part of it is always good. So very good. And the generously loving people of God say…Amen.
A Sermon for Sunday October 13, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Stewardship Season. Mark 10:17-27.
Eye of the Needle Illustration by CollinsFaith
The story of Jesus and the young rich man, which appears in three of the four gospels, is a controversial encounter that has been interpreted numerous ways throughout history. For instance, monks consider Jesus’ command to “sell what you own, and give the money to the poor,” as the impetus for taking a vow of poverty while committing to a life lived solely in prayer, contemplation and service to others. Some interpretations maintain that Jesus’ advice only pertained to the rich man or the uber wealthy in society. Others state that the problem is one’s attachment to wealth instead of just having an abundance of it; or that the lesson is about how salvation is made possible by God’s grace, not human deeds and resources. Though each of these interpretations are valid, they only scratch the surface of what is happening in the story. Rev. Matthew Myer Bolton, the co-creator of Salt’s online biblical commentary, says:[1]
Indeed, the story resists reduction to any simple formula: it’s a challenging, haunting, and distinctive episode, not least because it’s the only one in which Jesus explicitly calls someone to follow him and gets turned down. This story is a ‘wrestling’ story: its upshot isn’t to settle the issue of how faith relates to money, but rather to provide us with a framework within which we can wrestle it out, again and again, over the course of our lives.”
There is a lot to unpack in this encounter, which provides more insight into what Jesus is trying to teach the young rich man, and us as 21st century followers. The first thing to observe is that the man runs up and kneels before Jesus. Because this action was common for those who were desperately asking for and desiring healing, we can conclude that the man is struggling mightily with something in his life. Second, the man asks Jesus, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? The man equates the doing of good works and being good with getting into heaven, however Jesus refutes this immediately. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “You’re missing the point. Following me is not a competition where the best or those who do the most good will receive glory, honor and grace. God alone is good, and grace can’t be earned. There’s no amount of good things to do or points to gain to receive favor. Grace is a free gift from God with no strings attached.”
Third, Jesus tells the man, “You lack one thing” before advising him to sell all his possessions and give the money to the poor, except that the text never says what the man lacked. Maybe the young rich man trusts too much in the notion that his resources and means will get him into heaven since the ancient world believed that wealth was a divine blessing, an instant winning lottery ticket. Perhaps what the young rich man lacks is trust in God, the source of grace, goodness and love which liberates humanity from its waywardness.
Listen again to the exchange between Jesus and the man: “You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness. You shall not defraud. Honor your father and mother.’ ” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”
The commandments the man has followed all his life, numbers 6-10, are the neighbor-oriented ones, which is not wrong in of itself. However, the absence of the first four commandments in the dialogue, the God-oriented ones—’You shall have no other gods before me, You shall not make idols, You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain and Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy—suggest that the man has difficulty following those laws. Thus, Jesus tells him to let go of his possessions so that he’s more reliant on God and God’s promises than his wealth to live a life of humble servanthood.
But again, Jesus doesn’t tell him to abandon his things or destroy them. Jesus says he should share the worth of his possessions with his neighbors who are without food, clothes and shelter. Jesus understands that one of the detriments of wealth is that it can isolate us from the diverse community that exists around us, putting us in an ivory tower of sorts where we look down on everyone else as if they were peasants. Possessions can corrupt us, making us greedy and stingy. Wealth, if we’re not careful, can rob us of the joys of life, of being connected to everyday people, and giving generously to our neighbors.
In his book, God’s Gift of Generosity: Gratitude Beyond Stewardship—the inspiration for this year’s Stewardship Season—retired Presbyterian minister, Karl B. Travis, explains that generosity is a way of being with God that includes the giving of money or tithing, but involves more than monetary gifts. He writes:
God is with us in our generosity. And God joins us in relationship with those our generosity helps to prosper. Every act of sharing, every word spoken with generous relationships, every exchange initiated within liberality, every thought and every dollar offered sacrificially opens our eyes to the broader vista of god’s ongoing restoration of the world, God’s eternal and ongoing ministries of reconciliation and redemption. We are more than mere tools for God’s generosity. We are God’s partners. We are collaborators in a conscious vision of what the world is meant for, where the world is heading—by and in God’s grace, through and because of the work of Jesus Christ. We are meant for life abundant in the kingdom. From the moment we are born, we are meant to be generous with God.
The young rich man doesn’t trust that the God of generosity will provide for him if his means and resources are diminished or if he shares an abundance of what he has with his neighbors, whether it be wealth, time or selfless acts of kindness and support. In essence, when one holds tightly to their belongings, time and hearts, and don’t share those consistently with the community, they create an obstacle between themselves and the kingdom of God. Jesus’ illustration at the end of the passage makes the point clear: “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
Mind you, the eye of the needle isn’t a sewing needle. In ancient times, people understood the eye of the needle to be a small gate located in the city. For a camel, who was often burdened with tons of supplies, to get through the eye or the gate, the items had to be removed; then the camel could pass through easily. Jesus is saying in effect that it’s easier for a camel to unburden itself of its load than a rich person, such as the young rich man, to enter into the kingdom of God or communal generosity by selling their stuff and giving the money to their neighbors. [2] Unable to untangle himself from his wealth and give generously with God, the young rich man walks away from Jesus, “grieving, for he had many possessions.” Note that the man is more upset about losing his things than his neighbors who have nothing, not even bread to eat.
Like the disciples, we might, at this point, be asking ourselves, can I or anyone else who has possessions, enter the kingdom of God? Can we enter the eye of the needle by trusting enough to let go of the material things that corrupt and block us from being generous with God and from experiencing the wonder of sharing and being in relationship with the beloved community? As Jesus said: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”
So, let us, the collaborators and partners with the divine, trust in a benevolent God who will always show us what’s possible out of the impossible.
A Sermon for Sunday October 6, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. World Communion Sunday. Zechariah 8:1-13 and Matthew 5:6-9
In the Christian church, the first Sunday in October is designated as World Communion Sunday, in which communities of faith all over the globe celebrate their oneness in Christ and their uniquely God-given gifts that form the expanding and inclusive body of Christ. It is a practice that has existed for nearly a century, dating all the way back to 1933 when Dr. Hugh Thompson Kerr and introduced the concept of World Wide Communion to his congregation of Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburg, PA. The idea was an attempt to bring churches together in a worship service of Christian unity during the terrors of World War II. Kerr’s family has noted:[1]
“The concept spread very slowly at the start. People did not give it a whole lot of thought. It was during the Second World War that the spirit caught hold, because we were trying to hold the world together. World Communion symbolized the effort to hold things together, in a spiritual sense. It emphasized that we are one in the Spirit and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Three years later, the Presbyterian Church adopted World Communion Sunday as an official practice and other U.S. denominations were invited to celebrate. Later, in 1940, the organization that is now known as National Council of Churches promoted the importance of the celebration on the global state and soon the practice became widespread. World Communion Sunday is also a time in which we as Presbyterians receive our denomination’s Peace & Global Witness Special Offering as a way of sharing what we have with those in need. The PC(USA) website says this about the special occasion:[2]
“Today, World Communion Sunday is celebrated around the world, demonstrating that the church founded on Jesus Christ peacefully shares God-given goods in a world increasingly destabilized by globalization and global market economies based on greed.”
The mission statement of the Peace & Global Witness Offering states in similar fashion:[3]
The Peace & Global Witness Offering encourages the church to cast off anxiety, fear, discord and division. So we can embrace God’s mission of reconciliation to those around us and around the world.
Appropriately, the 2024 Peace & Global Witness theme, inspired by Zechariah 8:12, is “Sowing The Seeds of Peace.” But what does it actually mean to sow peace and why does God call us to commit to this task in our lives and world? Whenever I have pondered those questions, I find it helpful to recall two definitions of peace that have dwelled in my heart throughout my ministry.
The first is from my friend David LaMotte, a Montreat, North Carolina singer-songwriter and peace activist, who says: “Peace is not the absent of conflict, but the product and process of doing conflict well.”[4]And the second can be found in our denomination’s polity which tells us: “There is no peace without justice. Wherever there is brokenness, violence and injustice, the people of God are called to peacemaking.”[5]
Hear the definitions once more:
“Peace is not the absent of conflict, but the product and process of doing conflict well.”
“There is no peace without justice. Wherever there is brokenness, violence and injustice, the people of God are called to peacemaking.”
What this essentially means is that practicing the peace of Christ is not simply an act of calmness and serenity, nor is it a resolution we achieve through war, violence, discrimination, deceit, coercion and abuse.
The peace that Jesus has given to the disciples and all people to practice—via his life, death and resurrection—is the holy expression of the sovereign, triune God who is restoring all of creation through the power of grace. When we pass the peace of Christ with one another or demonstrate that peace in a variety of ways in our weekly routines, we are saying, “May God’s reconciling love be with you as you seek to manifest God’s mercy and justice in life for yourself and others.”
God desires that God’s people be peacemakers amid a world full of anxiety, fear, discord and division. That is the calling and its one that God expects us to fulfill even when things are a dumpster fire and hope seems lost. Consider the example we have in the scripture reading from the prophet Zechariah.
The population of the Kingdom of Judah have been living in exile, under the rule of the Babylonian Empire, for many years when God, speaking through the prophet, assures the people of God’s redemptive and saving presence. God reminds them that God’s peace and justice will mend and heal and restore what has been broken in their lives and God invites them to plant and grow something new and wonderful from the ruins of destruction and despair:
“Thus says the Lord of hosts: Old men and old women shall again sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with staff in hand because of their great age. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets. …For there shall be a sowing of peace; the vine shall yield its fruit, the ground shall give its produce, and the skies shall give their dew, and I will cause the remnant of this people to possess all these things. …Do not be afraid, but let your hands be strong.”
It is nearly impossible to hear those words and not let our minds and hearts turn toward the folks who are suffering from the recent devastation of Hurricane Helene. And, in spite of the death toll and the erasure of homes, highways and entire towns, we have seen people helping their neighbors with rescue and clean up—an overwhelming effort coordinated by federal and state authorities.
No one in Western North Carolina or any of the areas ravaged by the storms care whether their affected neighbor is a Christian or a Muslim or a Democrat or a Republican, or white or African American or Asian-American or poor or wealthy or gay or trans. They—and millions in the U.S.—are responding to this disaster with money, supplies and food and much more simply because the ones who are suffering are our neighbors, our siblings in Christ. They are sowing the seeds of peace so the streets can be filled again with joy and laughter:
And yet, there are those in positions of power who are so narcissistic, so angry that they’re not the center of attention during a crisis that they poison the ground with lies and pollute the air with racism regarding the federal response to the storm. Let us not be dissuaded by such dehumanizing and hateful tactics. Let us not be drawn into situations where we are tempted to dish out retribution–to “give as good as we got.”
Look around this sanctuary. Three distinct Presbyterian churches, along with people from the community, are worshipping together and soon will be participating in the sacrament of communion. Afterwards we will have a potluck lunch in Fellowship Hall, food that comes from numerous farms and gardens, and discern how we can address issues of poverty in our city and state. These are some of the many fruits of peace that God urges us to cultivate and spread so that the whole world may be bound in God’s goodness and mercy. In closing, I invite you to let the following prayer of St. Francis of Assisi:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
A Sermon for Sunday September 29, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Mark 9:38-50
Today’s passage picks up where last Sunday’s left off. After reprimanding the disciples for arguing with one another about who is superior next to their rabbi, Jesus picks up a child and explains that discipleship is about being superior but about modestly serving all people, for when someone welcomes one of the lowly and outcast they welcome Christ and also the Creator. Holding the child, who is considered to be one of the least in these in society, Jesus tells them: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”
And now comes the response from the disciples, who, after all that Jesus teaches, still don’t get it. Their leader, the divine manifestation of God in the flesh, says that discipleship is about humbly serving instead of a competition over who helps the best; and the disciples respond by complaining about a person they saw doing ministry who wasn’t part of their group: “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.”
One can imagine Jesus’ eyeroll as he listens to their arrogance before patiently replying, “Do not stop him, for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”
With this statement, Jesus is proclaiming that radical hospitality also includes religious rivals and non-Christians because the work they are doing to care for others is aligned with Christ’s mission to feed the poor and hungry and show hospitality to strangers in the name of God’s unconditional and expansive love and grace.
The rivalries and conflicts that occurred among various groups as they begin to establish Christian communities and figure out what it means to be Jewish and Gentile Christians were familiar to the first readers of Mark’s gospel. A biblical scholar notes that Jesus doesn’t hold back his feelings about quarrels among his followers:
Mark portrays Jesus as rejecting in the strongest terms the disciples’ penchant for infighting, directing them instead to focus on fixing their own failings and cultivating a posture of being “at peace with one another”
Jesus—who, by the way, still has a child in his arms—scold the disciples for arguing over who’s the greatest and for acting like a bunch of snobs about folks who aren’t doing ministry in the exact same way they do it. Using some seemingly harsh language, Jesus essentially says: “Cut out the incessant bickering and complaining and finger pointing and acting like you’re better than everyone else. You’re being horrible examples of discipleship for all of these people, especially the children. And if you don’t cut it out, you’re going to teach this child and many more that being argumentative, arrogant and selfish is ok. So, rip away the tendency to be haughty, critical and judgmental with all the parts of your being. Instead, be humble and hospitable so that you can truly cultivate a peaceful life, one that seeks to repair conflict instead of living to constantly create conflict and havoc.”
A commentary on the text observes:
Jesus’ vivid hyperboles here underscore at least two things: first, the threats don’t arise from the outside; they arise from within. It’s my hand, my foot, my eye that’s the source of difficulty, not the disciple walking beside me on the road, much less some other group or religion. As far as others are concerned, my focus should be on welcoming and serving them, not judging them or forcing them to “follow us.” And second, Jesus’ hyperbole underscores the stakes here. Gehenna (the word translated “hell” in this passage) was a smoldering city dump just outside Jerusalem, where trash was gathered and burned. Jesus’ message is clear: infighting, elitism, and arrogance are formidable, self-destructive dangers, and so we should continually guard against them — rooting them out if necessary — with vigilance and resolve.
Then Jesus emphasizes his point with a salty metaphor: “For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good, but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”
In ancient times, salt was used in animal sacrifices as a way to preserve and sanctify, or bless, the body. Thus, the idea Jesus is conveying is that Christians are called not to be bitter and bland with one another but to be disciples who commit to being seasoned and refined so that they can offer the flavor of God’s love and grace to everyone, including themselves. Our mouths, ears, heart and feet are only beneficial if we are using them to enrich the lives of others, otherwise we are wasting our gifts and we might as well, metaphorically speaking, severe those parts of us if we’re not going to use them for the goodness of God.
Disciples are called to season a broken and divisive world with peaceful and just-filled words and actions, for all to witness, particularly the youngest among us. And by practicing the way of Christ’s peace, disciples are able to expand the beloved community to include those with differing views and people who have divergent beliefs but who are working for the liberation of the oppressed, the marginalized, the sick and the suffering.
Just in the past few days, we have seen videos and read online articles about how so many good people, Christian and otherwise, are laboring around the clock to rescue and tend to those who are trapped in homes without power, water, food, cell signals, transportation or, worse of all, roads to escape the flooding and mudslides created by Hurricane and Tropical Storm Helene. And we wait with anticipation for the opportunity next Sunday to celebrate World Communion Sunday by worshipping with our siblings from Trinity Presbyterian Decatur and Oikos Atlanta, the Korean and International Presbyterian campus ministry at Emory University—all of which will be followed by a potluck meal and a program from The Atlanta Community Food Bank on the state of poverty in Georgia and how we can address those issues.
From the ruins of the world, we, as disciples are tasked with keeping the saltiness in life and offering dishes of peace to any and all who hunger for the peace that Christ gives. All for the sake of our children and the generations after us who look to us to see how we humbly and faithfully continue the work God has bestowed upon us to do. … Amen.
A Sermon for Sunday September 22, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Mark 9:30-37
Like last Sunday’s reading from Mark 8, Jesus and the disciples are traveling throughout Israel when he predicts his suffering, death and resurrection. Except in this instance, instead of Peter openly dismissing his words, all of the disciples remain silent. The gospel writer says they did not understand what Jesus was saying and they were afraid to ask him. One might logically conclude that the disciples’ fear and lack of response means they weren’t about to make the same mistake Peter committed earlier, which resulted in a rebuke from Jesus—like the student who keeps quite when the teacher gives instructions because another classmate got reprimanded for rudely interrupting the previous day.
However, there’s appears to be something else going on. The disciples are also preoccupied with their status as it relates to Jesus, the chosen Messiah. A biblical scholar points out:[1]
By the world’s standards, these disciples come from the supposedly lower end of that social ladder — and by this point in the story they’d graduated into the privileged entourage of God’s Anointed One, drawing great crowds, teaching and forgiving and casting out demons, heralding the dawn of the kingdom of God. Think of how this must have felt to them, indeed how far they had “come up in the world”! But now Jesus seems to be saying the opposite: that following him will bring suffering and rejection: not honor but dishonor, not greatness but disgrace. As we’d guess, the disciples find these ideas strange, confusing, and unacceptable.
Put another way, the disciples are focused on the wrong things. They’re so caught up in their privilege, they can’t fathom the idea that discipleship is accompanied by hardships that challenge our faith and resolve to follow the One who will be despised for declaring that God’s love is for all people, particularly the poor and the outcast. Maybe they figure that whoever is the greatest disciple among them won’t have to face suffering and rejection. Or that the greatest disciple will save their rabbi and prevent him from being murdered because surely that’s why they’ve been called to follow, to serve and protect God from evil, refusing to acknowledge that God doesn’t need protection and has things under control. At any rate, the disciples are afraid, and they puff up their importance to avoid the truth of Jesus’ words and the impending fate that awaits them all in Jerusalem.
Not one to waste an opportunity for an educational moment in ministry, Jesus reminds the disciples that when it comes to serving God and God’s people, there is no greatest or first or best. Being the greatest is not the purpose of answering the call to follow Christ; it never was, never has and never will be. Discipleship is about embodying humility and selflessness through selfless acts of love and mercy. Jesus tells them: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” To illustrate his point further, Jesus then scoops up a child and says: “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”
It is tempting for 21st Century readers to smile and have the warm fuzzies while imagining Jesus hanging out with precious, happy and excited children, a scene that is featured on many children’s story Bibles. And that’s all well and good, though there is something more profound that is occurring when Jesus brings the child into the fold of the disciples.
One of my seminary professors at Columbia in Decatur, Martha Moore-Keish, offers the following insight in a commentary on the passage from Mark 9:30-37:[2]
Certainly, children in that time were regarded as nonpersons, or not-yet-persons, possessions of the father in the household. For Jesus to hold up a child as an emblem of living in God’s household, and as a stand-in for Jesus himself, was to offer serious challenge to social norms of the day.
Joyce Ann Mercer suggests that Jesus’ treatment of children shows his “struggle and resistance to the purposes of empire.” Imperial politics favors relationships of power and privilege, while the politics embodied here lifts up the lowly, those with no power or privilege. Jesus first calls the disciples to emulate the child, thus renouncing social status; he then calls them to welcome the child, to make space for those with no social status, since to do so is to welcome Jesus himself—and the One who sent him. According to this story, a child enables God to be known as one who overturns social hierarchies, welcoming the lowly into God’s embrace. The “gift of children” is thus not only about the delight and wonder that children embody, but also about the way that children draw Jesus’followers into resisting all imperial powers of our time, struggling against all that opposes the “kin-dom of God.”
By lifting up the child, Jesus expresses how God’s values of loving all and showing worth and importance to every human being dominate the values of society, which prides itself on judging and excluding others, and pushing human beings into unnecessary and unhealthy competitions for prestige and dignity.
What Jesus is doing and saying is radical servant leadership and at the heart of that sacred calling, which Jesus beautifully sums up a few chapters later in the gospel, are the two most vital commandments: “ ‘The first is…you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.’ ”
Loving God and neighbor—doing unto others what God has done for us—is what discipleship and life is all about and has ever been about and will always be about. It’s not about being perfect or being the greatest. It’s not about gaining glory and honor and power. Discipleship is about how we treat our neighbors and whether we show hospitality, kindness and grace to those who are different from us. How we treat our neighbors reflects how we treat God in Christ. And if we say we love and respect God then we must also love and respect the people of God.
Mind you, each of us are not called to like or spend an enormous amount of time with every single person we encounter, nor are we expected to literally help everyone. And we’re not meant to ignore healthy boundaries, allow others to be abusive or avert responsibility and accountability. But we can love people and accept them for who they are and where they are in life while working together to build beloved community where we welcome all with dignity, just as God welcomes us and pursues a relationship with us, through the life, death and resurrection of Christ—even when we’re afraid and when our minds are not set on the ways of God.
Welcoming our neighbor and the divine spark that dwells within each of them is what makes life worth living, and as disciples, we can’t afford to do any less with God’s purpose for us. … Amen.
[2] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume) (p. 233). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.
A Sermon for Sunday, September 15, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Mark 8:27-38.
Our text this morning from Mark’s gospel is quite weighty; there is much going on that needs to be unpacked. The first thing that should be acknowledged is that Jesus’ message about messiahship and discipleship is vital and challenging for us today as it was for followers of Christ way back then. Secondly, biblical scholars routinely point out that this sequence of events in Mark 8:27-38 occurs near the middle of the gospel and signifies a turning point in the story.
During the first half of the gospel, Jesus heals the ailing, feeds the hungry and casts out demons, but now, in this passage, the focus shifts to Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and the cross—an instrument of execution used by the Roman Empire. As we step into the reading, so as to understand its meaning, we should be extremely careful, says the pastors and theologians of The Salt Project Online Biblical Commentary. They write:
The Buddha Is said to have remarked to his disciples that understanding his instruction is a dangerous business. Picking up one of his teachings, he said, is like picking up a poisonous snake in the wild; it’s all too easy to get bitten. Even well-meaning disciples can take hold of his words unwisely, drawing conclusions that aren’t just a few degrees off to the left, or a few degrees off to the right, but 180 degrees off the mark, the opposite of what the teacher intends.
Imagine an archer aiming an arrow at a bullseye (the right bow, the right arrow, the right target) — but he’s holding the bow exactly backwards, aimed at himself! Much of the world’s wisdom is dangerous in just this way, and Jesus’ teachings about the cross are no exception. Like a surgeon’s scalpel, they can be used to heal, or to wound. Here in the middle of Mark, as we turn toward the cross, we are stepping onto a sacred, treacherous path — and so we’re wise to stay alert to the dangers ahead.
The passage begins with Jesus asking the disciples who they and the crowd believe him to be. Notice that they are on their way to the villages of Caesarea Philippi and that the name contains the word “Caesar.” These Roman settlements were established near a temple built by Herod the Great to honor Rome and Emperor Augustus who considered himself the Divi Filius—“Son of the Divine.” In this imperial setting, Jesus begins a discussion about his identity, his messiahship which is perceived as a great threat by the Empire and the religious authorities.
The word “Messiah,” means: the anointed one or the promised deliverer who is chosen to liberate God’s people from oppression and to show humanity that Christ’s love, mercy and peace overcomes the hateful and violent forces of the powers and principalities that exist in the world.
And the disciple Peter seems to understand Jesus’ identity and purpose when he states proudly, “You are the Messiah.” However, when Jesus teaches the disciples that he “must undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes and be killed and after three days rise again,” we soon discover that Peter doesn’t really get it…at all. Without taking time to come up with a measured response, Peter reacts by taking it upon himself to rebuke Jesus’ words.
Though Mark’s gospel doesn’t tell us precisely what Peter said to Jesus, we can infer that it was similar to Matthew’s version of the story in which Peter cries out, “Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” Peter’s impulsive reaction garners a rebuking from Jesus who says, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” The Salt Project writes:[1]
Jesus is indeed the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Deliverer, but he comes not on a warhorse but rather (as we’ll see in Jerusalem) on a donkey. He comes not to dominate but to liberate; not to destroy but to heal and restore. “The Anointed” was an ancient title often given to a monarch — and Jesus is indeed a king, but not in the style of Caesar.
On the contrary, he opposes the self-centered, grasping forms of power epitomized by Augustus. Moreover, his opposition isn’t armed with a sword; he has in mind a deeper, more subversive form of resistance. After all, the opposite of a grasping, domineering fist isn’t a bigger fist, but rather an open, loving hand. Jesus will lead a revolution, but a revolution of love, service, and justice.
Peter incorrectly surmises, based on the numerous and miraculous healings and feedings, that Jesus is someone who has come to conquer Israel’s foes instead of being shamed and murdered. The Salt Project explains:
Peter’s argument is a powerful temptation, reminiscent of Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. If you are the Son of God, if you are the Messiah, take these dazzling powers of yours and raise up an army, legions of angels to deliver the faithful! Invade and destroy the Temple to Augustus — and build an even greater Temple to Jesus of Nazareth!
These ideas are not just off the mark; they’re 180 degrees off the mark, an outright reversal of what Jesus intends. The snake has bitten. Peter speaks boldly of Jesus as “Messiah” — but he’s drastically misunderstood true messiahship.
Jesus then uses Peter’s error as an educational moment for the crowds who’ve gathered around him where, according to an interpretation by The Salt Project, he essentially says:[2]
Listen, all of you! We’ve reached a crossroads. Anyone who thinks of this journey as a violent campaign, a movement of domination and triumph — might as well turn back right now. That’s not what I’m about; that’s not what true deliverance is about; and so that’s not what following me is about. We’re not headed to conquer the temple at Caesarea Philippi — we’re headed to Jerusalem, to Golgotha, to the cross. In a deep sense, to follow me is to take up a cross of your own, to let go of all self-centered grasping, all will for power and domination, and to suffer for the sake of the Gospel of love and justice.
Let me tell you a great mystery: deep down in creation, there is a physics more profound than the surface of things, that superficial layer in which all appears to be driven by might and violence and grasping. Underneath all of that is a deeper physics, according to which what’s truly important is actually driven by love and humility and generosity. To live according to this deeper physics means you will suffer — and it also means you will rise! The logic of self-centered grasping, of trying to save your own life, in the end only results in losing it. And the logic of neighborly generosity, of “losing” your life for the sake of Love and Justice, in the end results in saving it!
An image that might be useful for us to discern Jesus’ words about losing and saving one’s life comes from the 5th Century theologian and philosopher St. Augustine who described sin as curvatus in se, i.e. “curved inward on oneself,” like a closed fist of anger and hate. Augustine taught that it was God’s redemption in Christ that helps human beings unfurled like an open hand reaching out with love and grace. So, if we are being selfish by living solely for ourselves and setting our mind only on human things—greed, deception, vengeance—then we’re curved inward, and we’ve lost a life worth any true value or meaning. But if we are living for one another, for our neighbors, community and world so that God’s love and mercy can be shared, then we’re opened up to receive the salvific joys that come with a life of selfless love and service to God and others.
A word of caution, suffering will occur as a result of our choice to follow Jesus and serve the marginalized. There will always be people who despise and mock our calling and our work for the equality, equity, and dignity of God’s children. There will always be people who try to prevent love and acceptance from crossing a doorway. There will be suffering because loving others as God intends upsets those who don’t want to let go of their power and social status.
You will suffer the loss of a relationship with a friend and/or loved one if you correct someone who is spreading the vicious and harmful lie and age-old racist stereotype that immigrants, black and brown skinned people, are invading neighborhoods and eating pets. You will suffer the loss of a relationship if you advocate for gun control and non-violence or support a woman’s right to make their own health choices for their bodies or do anti-racism work or stand with the transgender community or feed the hungry and welcome the poor, the sick and the differently abled.
However, suffering is not something we fervently seek due to a great sense of guilt and desire to beat ourselves up over real or perceived mistakes. We’re not masochists and Jesus never calls us to be the inflictors of our pain. To think and believe as such is misguided. It’s 180 degrees off the mark or it’s picking up the snake and getting bitten. And though self-deprecation may appear to be noble, it’s another way that we selfishly set our minds on human things and not divine things.
Jesus frees us from our selfish desires and opens our minds, eyes, and hearts to the love of God in another person, regardless of who they are and where they came from. Jesus calls us to recognize and follow the Messiah who sacrifices himself so that we can be exactly who God created us to be—so we can use our unique gifts to help transform and heal the brokenness that surrounds us.
One of my all-time favorite television shows, M*A*S*H, about the 4077th mobile surgical hospital unit stationed near the frontlines of the Korean War in the early 1950s, showed me how to better appreciate the truth of Jesus’ messiahship in an episode entitled, Quo Vadis, (Where Are You Going), Captain Chandler? The episode begins with batch of soldiers being brought into the camp to be treated for the injuries they sustained in battle. Among them is Captain Arnold Chandler, a sheep rancher from Idaho, who believes he is Jesus Christ.
Some at the 4077th think Captain Chandler’s claim is blasphemous and that he is faking battle fatigue to earn a medical discharge. Others are concerned about the man’s mental well-being, and contact the psychiatrist, Dr. Sidney Freedman, for a consultation. It turns out that Chandler, a decorated pilot who had flown 57 missions before being shot down, has lost his memories even though his head wound is superficial. Despite best efforts to help him remember, Chandler insists he is Christ.
After a long visit with his patient, Sidney shares a diagnosis with camp personnel. He tells them: “He’s not Christ. But he’s not Chandler either. The man is a victim. Chandler lost himself. He’s not playing a game. He spent two years dropping bombs on people who never did anything to him until finally something inside this kid from Idaho said, ‘Enough! You’re Christ, you’re not a killer. The next bomb you drop, you drop on yourself.’”
Sidney then recommends that the pilot be admitted to a hospital in Tokyo where he can receive treatment that will turn him back to his former self but “never into a fighting machine.” A few moments later, in the episode’s final scene, Captain Arnold Chandler is walking out of the medical tent to board a bus to the airport when Corporal Walter “Radar” O’Reilly, the young, naïve company clerk approaches him. Radar timidly says to Captain Chandler: “Sir, my name is Radar O’Reilly. … Um, sir, are you really who they say, I mean are you really Him?”
Chandler replies: “Yes, I am.” Radar breathes a sigh of relief and then asks: “I know you’re busy and all, but could you bless this?” Radar then reaches into a satchel and draws out a ragged old teddy bear that he’s loved since childhood, saying “I know he’s not real, but we’re very close.”
Chandler places his hands on the stuffed animal, his right hand covering the teddy’s bear’s missing eye, and says: “Bless you.” Then he says to Radar, “Bless you, Radar.” Moved and humbled by the gesture, Radar says proudly, “I’m Walter.” Chandler replies: “Bless you, Walter.” And then as he boards the bus, he looks at everyone in the camp and says, “Bless all of you.”
I first shared this illustration in 2006 while preaching at Presbyterian Church in Maryland where I served as the associate pastor for youth ministry and mission. While preparing that sermon, I tracked down the episode’s writer, the now late Bert Prelutsky, and sent him an email asking for more insight on the story of Captain Arnold Chandler.
Bert emailed me back the next day, saying: “I think the message was fairly simple and straightforward. We all share a common humanity, whatever our religion is… Chandler, of course, represented the Christ, the spark of the divine, that resides in most of us.”
The spark of the divine, I believe, dwells inside each and every one of us and we have to daily choose whether we are going to bottle it up inside and snuff it out or whether we are going to release that fire of that bold, cleaning and unconditional love of Christ whom we follow and trust and live for with every part of our being. For God’s sake, may it be the latter.
A Sermon for Sunday September 8, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. James 2:1-10 and 14-20 (Eugene Peterson’s The Message).
James, the stepbrother of Jesus and one of the first leaders in the early Christian church, is greatly bothered by the behavior of a faith community in Alexandria who are showing favoritism to wealthy individuals and shaming those who are poor. One of my seminary professors, writing in the commentary series, Feasting on the Word, observes:[1]
The writer points to the naiveté of such action. Christianity was still illegal, and persecution was always a possibility. The rich man could be a local official checking to see if the Christians taught insubordination against Roman religion, acting as atheists (i.e., nonbelievers of pagan gods), as was rumored. Despite the special treatment, the official could take them to court; the judge could order them to prison, and finally to the arena for public execution.
The officials would dishonor Christians’ excellent name (of Christ) as criminals (vv. 6–7). It is not simply for the sake of self-preservation that Christians must not practice favoritism, but because favoritism is against God’s intention (law). The writer explains the significance of the divine law in contrast to the Roman law. First, the writer reminds Christians of the “royal law” of Christ, which sums up the entire Hebraic law by saying, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” alluding to Jesus’ commandment in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. …
The writer notes the special favor God gives to the poor.1 God, who gives to all generously (1:5), raises the lowly (1:9). If the poor are rich in faith and love God, God promises them the kingdom (2:5). Christians live out their faith in this God through works of mercy for the poor. Christian faith and good works are integrated and not separate (2:14). If faith is to produce fruit, it cannot remain dead in empty words. Faithful Christians supply “bodily needs” of the poor (2:15–17).
Many of us can relate to the situation James is addressing in his letter. Archie Smith Jr., a professor of pastoral psychology and counseling, writes:[2]
We are nervous if not irritated, when someone—a stranger with seemingly bad habits and odors—comes into our presence in the sanctuary. We may surmise, “You do not belong here.” We may politely ask, “Are you lost?” But let us reverse roles for a moment. If you were that poor person who happened to show up at a worship service, then you might feel shame and embarrassment along with physical hunger and other pains. These issues might be overridden by your deeper desire to hear a word of hope or to receive a modicum of respect from those who are known as “people of God.” …
Here is James’s radical challenge in a nutshell: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” … James calls Christians to a higher standard, the standard of agapē or divine love. This love excels all other forms of love and is the distinctive call to Christian communities and disciples. … James’s challenge is radical in that he calls all Christians, rich and poor, to show no partiality. He calls us to merge our differing self-understandings into a new, enlarged, and richer unity of identity as faithful followers of “our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory.”
James’ challenge is radical because we live in a world and society where the wealthy and successful are favored over the poor, oppressed and marginalized. Even now, millions of Americans believe a particular political candidate’s appalling rhetoric that immigrants are cannibals who will devour people’s lives and livelihood. And there are a multitude of Christians who actively seek to dehumanize and exclude those who they deem unworthy—the differently abled, people of color and those who are LGBTQ—all while hero worshipping the rich and famous who have harmed others on their way to the top and continue to disparage anyone beneath them. Peter Rhea Jones, a biblical scholar at Mercer University in Atlanta, surmises:[3]
The text speaks not only to the profound issue of acceptance but potentially to the inclusion of the uncool. New people, whatever their social rank, need to be stitched into the social fabric of the church, not merely formally received as new members. Churches with fine, empty cushioned seats often do not invite the poor to sit in them. During the integration crisis some ministers took a stand for inclusion that cost their jobs. Incidentally, the text does not impugn all rich persons. Some are among the enlightened affluent, the compassionate rich, those who have overcome greed with grace (Jas. 4:1–10). The Buffetts and Gateses act on the stewardship of abundance that alleviates poverty conditions in Third-World countries.
The text does criticize the church when it is not true to itself. In his first year in seminary, Jim Wallis and friends did a thorough study to find every verse in the Bible that deals with the poor and social injustice. They came up with thousands, in the first three Gospels one out of ten verses, in Luke one out of seven! They could not recall a single sermon on the poor in their home churches. One of them found an old Bible and began to cut out every single biblical text about the poor. Much of the Psalms and prophets disappeared. That old Bible would hardly hold together. They had created a Bible full of holes.
Christians often create, in their own image, words and actions, a Bible and a faith that is empty and meaningless—a void of God’s calling of each of us to serve the poor and counter injustice. If we proclaim faith in God but regularly mistreat our neighbors, we are not being true to the One who desires that we be in relationship with others and help build the kingdom of God where all are included. Listen once more to James’ words:
Isn’t it clear by now that God operates quite differently. He chose the world’s down-and-out as the kingdom’s first citizens, with full rights and privileges. This kingdom is promised to anyone who loves God. And here you are abusing these same citizens! …Dear friends, do you think you’ll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? …You can no more show me your works apart from your faith than I can show you my faith apart from my works. Faith and works, works and faith, fit together hand in glove. …Do you suppose for a minute that you can cut faith and works in two and not end up with a corpse on your hands.
The original translation for the final verse is “faith without works is dead,” which, again, emphasizes how faith is meaningless and lifeless if we aren’t putting faith into action, if we are not moving our feet when we pray. However, I am particularly fond of the paraphrased version of the verse from Eugene Peterson’s The Message: “Do you suppose for a minute that you can cut faith and works in two and not end up with a corpse on your hands?
On the surface, it appears that having faith without actually practicing it on a daily basis leads to the death of the marginalized and that’s not inaccurate. Neglect and cruelty can cause the destruction of life. We see that way too often with our nations unholy worship of guns and the refusal by several of our elected officials to solve the epidemic of gun violence.
There is, though, another way to think about that phrase, “a corpse on your hands,” which is to consider that the corpse is our own. This body attached to our hands is not truly living if it’s not practicing faith and functioning in love. We as Christians are lifeless if we aren’t dedicating our entire selves to loving our neighbors, especially the ones who are hurting. We as Christians are lifeless if we say we believe in God and cherish the young but turn our heads when innocent lives are taken away in acts of violence, much like the incident that occurred earlier this week in Winder, Georgia, which is less than an hour from Decatur.
Although tragedies like school shootings make us feel numb and despondent, we must remember that God breathes life into our bones, not so we can proclaim faith without living it out, but so that we may share the unconditional and sacrificial love of Christ with others. Let us not bury ourselves in despair or be overcome by doom and gloom, and instead, let us be courageous as we follow Jesus and tend to those in need, inviting them to join us at God’s table where all will be fed, comforted and inspired to live as the body of Christ that welcomes all, regardless of who they are.
And all God’s people say… Amen.
[1] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume) (pp. 101-102). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.
[2] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume) (p. 105). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.
[3] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume) (pp. 113-114). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.
A Sermon for Sunday August 25, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Ephesians 6:10-20
In the final chapter of his letter to the Ephesians, the apostle Paul states that “ourstruggle is not against blood and flesh but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this presentdarkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
What are these rulers and authorities, these cosmic powers of darkness and the spiritual forces of evil? Let’s dig into the original context of the scripture reading to learn more.
According to a biblical commentary, the Ephesians, or the people of Ephesus, were religious minorities in the Roman Empire where Christianity was illegal. Thus, Gentile and Jewish followers of Jesus encountered daily persecution—harassment by their neighbors and suppression by authorities. Some may have chosen to also worship the Roman emperor at the temple of Domitian because they were coerced into proving their allegiance to the Empire. Dr. Haruko Ward, retired professor of Church History at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, writes:[1]
One of the major challenges that these early Christians experienced in their transformation concerned power. Roman civilization was built on militarism. Yet Christians were called not to bear arms against any human agents, because their battle was a spiritual one. Their true enemies were sin, evil, and death, forces that constantly waged war in their inner spirit and at the cosmic level. In this spiritual warfare God in Christ, through the Spirit, supplies to Christians power and strength (1:19; 3:16), and Christians are “to be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power” (6:10).
At the time, the early Christian church understood Paul’s words as a call to pacifism. However, after Christianity became the official religion of the Roman empire in the late 4thcentury, the concept of standing up to spiritual forces was used to justify wars, especially against other religious adherents who were considered to be evil and enemies of God. This way of thinking has led Christians to wage numerous wars and destroy millions of lives ever since.
If you were to do a Google Image search on “Ephesians 6” or “the armor of God” numerous images appear featuring armored Roman soldiers or the armaments themselves, along with the descriptors from the Ephesians text—breastplate of righteousness, helmet of salvation, shield of faith, etc.—as if Christians are meant to resemble fierce military warriors. Even now, in the 21st century, Christian misunderstandings of Paul’s metaphor has led to fear mongering and the destruction of those who were perceived as adversaries because of their religion, race, politics, economic status, and gender and sexual identities.
When Paul speaks of the armor of God, he’s using Roman military language to distinguish how Christians are to put on the invisible clothing of non-violent resistance and demonstrate the ways of Jesus in their hearts, minds, bodies and souls. It’s about fortifying our inner beings so we can face the cosmic powers of darkness and the spiritual forces of evil instead of donning bulky protective gear and grasping weapons to attack a conjured-up human foe.
In a post-modern world, those cosmic powers and spiritual forces are often referred to as the powers and principalities. The author and theologian Walter Wink, who wrote several books on the subject, defined the powers and principalities as:[2]
“The inner and outer aspects of any given manifestation of power. As the inner aspect they are the spirituality of institutions, the “within” of corporate structures and systems, the inner essence of outer organizations of power. As the outer aspect they are political systems, appointed officials, the “chair” of an organization, laws—in short, all the tangible manifestations which power takes…(They) comprise all of social, political, and corporate reality, in both visible and invisible manifestations.”
William Stringfellow, a lawyer, and activist in the 60s and 70s, who, like Wink, devoted his life to understanding and resisting the powers and principalities, broke it down this way:
“(The powers) include all institutions, all ideologies, all images, all movements, all causes, all corporations, all bureaucracies, all traditions, all methods and routines, all conglomerates, all races, all nations, all idols. Thus, the Pentagon or the Ford Motor Company or Harvard University…or the Olympics or the Methodist Church or the Teamsters Union are all principalities. …The powers and principalities are legion.”
John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel The Grapes of Wrath, set during the Great Depression, contains one of the best examples of the powers and principalities. In the book, the landowners inform the tenant farmers that they’ll have to leave since a single tractor can do the work of several families. When the farmers explain they are poor and have been working the land for generations, the owners tell them:[3]
We know that—all that. It’s not us, it’s the bank. A bank isn’t like a man. Or an owner with fifty thousand acres, he isn’t like a man either. That’s the monster.
Sure, cried the tenant men, but it’s our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. …That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.
We’re sorry. It’s not us. It’s the monster. The bank isn’t like a man.
Yes, but the bank is only made of men.
No, you’re wrong there—quite wrong there. The bank is something else than men. It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It’s the monster. Men made it, but they can’t control it.
In his book, “The Word Before the Powers,” homiletics professor Dr. Chuck Campbell, explains how the powers and principalities affect us today:
The powers create the sense that we live in ‘a machine in which everyone is caught…but that no one owns.’ They elicit comments such as ‘Nobody really wants homelessness, but millions of people are homeless, and we can’t seem to do anything about it’; or ‘Few people desire war, but the piles of bodies and warheads just keeps growing’; or ‘It doesn’t matter whom I vote for, nothing’s really going to change’; or ‘I feel like I’m just being swept along by forces beyond my control.’
The powers and principalities that are institutions, corporations, bureaucracies—and ideologies such as racism, misogyny, homophobia, discrimination against the poor, and ableism—are always around and they can make life overwhelming and burdensome.
This was true in Paul’s day, and it is why the apostle encourages the community of faith to stay alert and be aware of the corruption and waywardness that exists—to stand in the clothes of Christ.
Years ago, when I took youth on summer mission trips, I would remind the group to put on their humility vest and their flexible pants because the work is typically hard and messy, and one never knows when plans for a project will suddenly change, like bad weather, shortage of supplies or another unforeseen hiccup. The youth and the adult advisers always giggled, and some would roll their eyes as I pretended to put on an imaginary vest and imaginary pants. However, they got the metaphor. Without fail, they always showed humility and flexibility when a challenging situation arose.
We must do the same in daily life. Every time we roll out of bed, step outside or enter a room, we must wear those clothes of Christ’s truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation and Spirit. With humbleness and pride, we stand strong and move against the powers and principalities like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Margaret Sanger, Alice Paul, Shirley Chisolm, John Lewis, Cesar Chavez, and millions more who committed to being extremists for love and peace in their efforts to bring Christ’s justice and healing in these present days.
Pray boldly for God’s strength that will allow you to stand and face the powers and principalities in life, and, as the African proverb says, when you pray, move your feet. ….And all God’s people said: Amen.
[1] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3: Pentecost and Season after Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16) (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume) (p. 861). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation.
[2] The Word Before the Powers: An Ethic of Preaching by Dr. Charles “Chuck” Campbell. Westminster John Knox Press. November 2002. Also see Walter Wink’s Naming The Powers, Unmasking The Powers (
[3] Chapter 5 of The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. The Viking Press. 1939.
georgia preach 
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