Philippians 4:1-9

Loved ones, I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to come to an agreement in the Lord. Yes, and I’m also asking you, loyal friend, to help these women who have struggled together with me in the ministry of the gospel, along with Clement and the rest of my coworkers whose names are in the scroll of life.

We Wesleyan Christians have a long history of finding ways to live together even in the midst of disagreement. Finding middle ground and developing intentional space to converse civilly is a point of pride for us as a denomination.

That, of course, doesn’t mean that healthy dialogue occurs in every local context. I don’t know how many conversations I’ve had to sit through surrounded by colleagues or parishioners whose ideology is entirely opposite mine but who agree on all their own points. Those conversations turn quickly vitriolic, and it is painfully clear that no argument will convince anyone that there is another point of view worth considering.

I realize that I’ve compelled people to sit through the same thing when I find an ally and begin venting off pent-up frustration.

I realize now, and I typically realize at the time, that my own vitriol completely fails to win hearts and minds, and only serves to make the atmosphere more toxic.

I realize that when I do that, I’m only feeding the fire that’s burning out of control in today’s polarizing culture.

What I wonder, then, is how to read what Paul suggests to the church in Phillipi. Are we to aim for complete agreement, which is probably an impossible task today, or are we to learn to live in disagreement and focus on those points on which we find common ground?

What is the healthy way for the Body of Christ to live?

Along for the Ride; a sermon for the Second Sunday of Lent

John 3:1-17

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. 2 He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

3 Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

4 Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

5 Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. 6 Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew.’ 8 God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

9 Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

10 “Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? 11 I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. 12 If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13 No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. 14 Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up 15 so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. 16 God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. 17 God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

Let the words of my mouth
    and the meditations of my heart
    be pleasing to you,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

If there is one verse that Christians seem to know today, that everyone can reference, whose numbering has been seen far and wide…

Maybe it used to be Psalm 23.

Not anymore.

John 3:16.

I’ve even heard people say, “I’m a John 3:16 Christian!”

Really? I’m a Jesus-following kind of Christian.

Godsolovedtheworldthathegavehisonlybegottensonthatwhosoeverbelievethinhimshouldnotperishbuthaveeverlastinglife.

Over it.

Mostly, I’m over it because it’s been handled so completely out of context for so long.

It’s like an overplayed song on the radio.

You know it’s true: everything I do, I do it for you.

Baby, baby, baby, oh baby.

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number…

You know what’s even prettier than John 3:16? The poetry, specifically the imagery, eight verses earlier:

God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes.

Of course, it helps to remember other passages of God-Wind, like:

When God began to create the heavens and the earth— the earth was without shape or form, it was dark over the deep sea, and God’s wind swept over the waters

Or:

As I looked at the creatures, suddenly there was a wheel on the earth corresponding to all four faces of the creatures… There was one shape for all four of them, as if one wheel were inside another. When they moved in any of the four directions, they moved without swerving…  Wherever the wind would appear to go, the wind would make them go there too. The wheels rose up beside them, because the spirit of the creatures was in the wheels.

Or:

Suddenly a sound from heaven like the howling of a fierce wind filled the entire house where they were sitting. 

God loves the world so much that God’s Spirit just blows around everywhere, blowing love into all the world, everywhere, wherever, with about as much reason or predictability as the wind over the surface of the Earth.

And when we enter into the renewal of who we are, the re-creating of ourselves into the Image of God that our Creator intends for us, the born-again person, then we submit ourselves also to the whim of the Spirit. Ours is not to determine where and when God will call us. Ours is to hear and to follow. That’s all.

If we do, God promises us a wild ride. Not a safe ride. Not a comfortable ride. A ride like Ezekiel’s creatures enjoy: unpredictable, uncontrollable, unencumbered by all the baggage that we use every day to define ourselves.

A wild ride.

We think of being born again as securing an eternal future. Sure, there’s a piece of that, but that, frankly, isn’t what’s important. If that were the important bit, Jesus wouldn’t have needed to be human. God could have done this salvation thing any way God wanted to, but God chose Emmanuel. God chose to be with us. And by choosing humanity, by choosing to take on mortality, God shows us just how important this creation is.

If we choose to follow, God will gift us with that Spirit. It is an act of empowerment. Selfish, fearful, and broken as we are, we hope in the promise that God’s Spirit is our Comforter. While that’s true, and fundamentally important, God’s Comfort also Encourages us. God’s Encouragement Empowers us. God’s Empowerment Enlivens us, Revitalizes us to go out and breathe God’s Spirit into creation.

We who are empowered have no business sheltering ourselves against the world. We have no business being afraid of - what?

Think you’re getting beat down? Oppressed? Are you suffering the way Paul suffered? He didn’t gripe about it:

Instead, we commend ourselves as ministers of God in every way. We did this with our great endurance through problems, disasters, and stressful situations. We went through beatings, imprisonments, and riots. We experienced hard work, sleepless nights, and hunger.

Instead, Paul says:

We displayed purity, knowledge, patience, and generosity. We served with the Holy Spirit, genuine love, telling the truth, and God’s power.

If you are a born-again Christian, then act like one! Get off your duff, stop complaining, stop being so threatened by all the fear-mongering all around you.

Turn off your Faux News, take your hands out of your pockets, and start using them the way that Jesus does. Go be healing! Go be mercy! Go be forgiveness to all those broken people around you!

Get out and let God’s Spirit blow you around! The best possible thing you can do is be along for the ride. You’ll be amazed at just how God will bless your stinky socks off.

Think you can handle that today? Then come let God feed you this morning, meet your Creator at this table, and then get out that door and let God’s Spirit do something with you.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

God with Skin on: a sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

Matthew 17:1-9

Six days later Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and brought them to the top of a very high mountain. ² He was transformed in front of them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light.

³ Moses and Elijah appeared to them, talking with Jesus. ⁴ Peter reacted to all of this by saying to Jesus, “Lord, it’s good that we’re here. If you want, I’ll make three shrines: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

⁵ While he was still speaking, look, a bright cloud overshadowed them. A voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son whom I dearly love. I am very pleased with him. Listen to him!” ⁶ Hearing this, the disciples fell on their faces, filled with awe.

⁷ But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” ⁸ When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.

⁹ As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus commanded them, “Don’t tell anybody about the vision until the Human One is raised from the dead.”

Let the words of my mouth
    and the meditations of my heart
    be pleasing to you,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

When you tell someone a secret, what do you expect them to do?

Sometimes that depends on the person. Usually, that depends on your relationship with the person.

If that person respects you, and if the secret is not dangerous, they’ll keep your secret, won’t they?

But if that person is perfectly willing to write you off, if you’re not important to them, is it fair to expect them to keep your secret?

Do you confide in someone you don’t trust?

Can someone confide something in you if you don’t have a relationship with you?

Jesus is trusting P, J, & J with a really big secret. They’ve never seen anything like this in their lives. Sure, Jesus did some really nifty miracles, healed people, brought somebody back from the dead once or twice, but this is huge! This is impossible! This is beyond their imagination! This is inconceivable!

But what did they see?

We sing:

Open our eyes Lord
We want to see Jesus
To reach out and touch Him
And say that we love Him
Open our ears Lord
And help us to listen
Open our eyes Lord
We want to see Jesus

or

Open my eyes, that I may see glimpses of truth thou hast for me;

place in my hands the wonderful key that shall unclasp and set me free.

Silently now I wait for thee, ready, my God, thy will to see.

Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit divine!

And that’s nifty. But what are we asking for?

Are we asking for an experience like Moses?

The Lord said to Moses, “Come up to me on the mountain and wait there. I’ll give you the stone tablets with the instructions and the commandments that I’ve written in order to teach them.”

13 So Moses and his assistant Joshua got up, and Moses went up God’s mountain. 14 Moses had said to the elders, “Wait for us here until we come back to you. Aaron and Hur will be here with you. Whoever has a legal dispute may go to them.”

15 Then Moses went up the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. 16 The Lord’s glorious presence settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days. On the seventh day the Lord called to Moses from the cloud. 17 To the Israelites, the Lord’s glorious presence looked like a blazing fire on top of the mountain. 18 Moses entered the cloud and went up the mountain. Moses stayed on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.

Do we want to see what the people saw from afar? Do we want to be on the mountain like Moses, beholding the glory of God with our own eyes?

That’s one of the things I don’t get about our tradition, by the way. There are times when our witness tells us that no one can see God and live, and then there are stories like Moses’s about someone who does exactly that.

And then there’s Jesus.

How many people saw Jesus? A bunch. Thousands, tens of thousands. Who knows?

I’m just… I’m stuck trying to figure out the difference between seeing Jesus and seeing God. I don’t understand, if Jesus says, “I and the Father are One,” what the actual difference is.

Just confused.

Maybe Jesus is like God with a mask on. Like Moses with a towel on his head when he comes back down from the mountain:

29 Moses came down from Mount Sinai. As he came down from the mountain with the two covenant tablets in his hand, Moses didn’t realize that the skin of his face shone brightly because he had been talking with God. 30 When Aaron and all the Israelites saw the skin of Moses’ face shining brightly, they were afraid to come near him. 31 But Moses called them closer. So Aaron and all the leaders of the community came back to him, and Moses spoke with them. 32 After that, all the Israelites came near as well, and Moses commanded them everything that the Lord had spoken with him on Mount Sinai. 33 When Moses finished speaking with them, he put a veil over his face. 34 Whenever Moses went into the Lord’s presence to speak with him, Moses would take the veil off until he came out again. When Moses came out and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, 35 the Israelites would see that the skin of Moses’ face was shining brightly. So Moses would put the veil on his face again until the next time he went in to speak with the Lord.

Do you know what a habit is?

Today, we refer to a habit as something we do over and over, usually a behavior that is so deeply ingrained that it is nearly impossible to stop.

The older sense of the word refers to the plain dress of a member of a monastic order. Habits are worn by nuns and monks. They put them on and the robe reminds them of the simplicity of their calling, their covenant to a life of poverty and reflection.

As monastics put on their habits, they begin to associate certain behavior with the certain dress. So a couple centuries after the term developed to describe monastic robes, the term evolved to describe the kind of repeated behavior that the habit inspired.

You put on a habit to develop holy habits.

Let me offer this observation, then: Jesus is God’s holy habit.

Jesus is the mask of God, the costume of God, the behavior God puts on to show us what God is really like.

God walking around in skin. God with skin on.

But under that habit you can still see the motion of the Almighty. Under that towel, you can watch the motivation of the Maker.

God’s love beams out through Jesus’s eyes.

And P, J, & J caught a glimpse.

The good news is that we can, too.

I was hungry and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me. I was naked and you gave me clothes to wear. I was sick and you took care of me. I was in prison and you visited me.

I assure you that when you have done [this] for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.

Do you want to catch a glimpse of Christ? Look around you. Here he is.

That’s the big secret for us today. God is within every single one of us. Maybe that’s a little creepy, because plenty of us aren’t actually interested in inviting God into our lives, into our selves, into our private moments.

But Christ is here among us.

And even more importantly, Jesus is outside these walls waiting, just waiting for you to meet him and offer him bread, shelter, comfort, healing, peace.

And if you’ll offer your meager self to God with Skin on, just imagine what God will offer to you.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

On Loving Our Enemies; a sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Epiphany

Matthew 5:38-48

“You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. 39 But I say to you that you must not oppose those who want to hurt you. If people slap you on your right cheek, you must turn the left cheek to them as well. 40 When they wish to haul you to court and take your shirt, let them have your coat too. 41 When they force you to go one mile, go with them two. 42 Give to those who ask, and don’t refuse those who wish to borrow from you.

43 “You have heard that it was said, You must love your neighbor and hate your enemy. 44 But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who harass you 45 so that you will be acting as children of your Father who is in heaven. He makes the sun rise on both the evil and the good and sends rain on both the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing? Don’t even the Gentiles do the same? 48 Therefore, just as your heavenly Father is complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete.

Let the words of my mouth
    and the meditations of my heart
    be pleasing to you,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

I have rejoiced at a man’s death.

I say this as a matter of confession. As a matter of confession because I believe that it is a central tenet of the Good News of Jesus Christ that every single life is precious, is of sacred worth, is a creation of such beauty that nothing any human being can do would ever make that life anything but beautiful.

But there are people who have done such harm to other people that the temptation to celebrate their passing rather than mourn with their families, their friends, with my own friends who love and respect these murderous, closed-minded, callous ideologues…

The temptation is great.

I have rejoiced at a man’s death.

I have enemies.

Sometimes that’s my own doing. Sometimes I pit myself against other people, sometimes as a matter of contrast, sometimes because I so heartily disagree with something they are doing or something they have done. Sometimes I declare, “This person is against me!”

Sometimes someone does the same thing to me. Or they place me in a box with other people they deem outside of their ideology or theology. Other heretics, allies, socialists, nerds, tree-huggers, gem-x, new evangelicals. Whatever. Whatever labels, false or true, make someone feel superior over another.

I have enemies.

They will rejoice at my death.

Unless.

Unless we can change the conversation.

Unless, with no exception, none at all, we can stop pitting ourselves against each other and declare that we are one body, united in Christ.

I can’t declare the rule any better than Jesus does. I can’t declare the logic any better:

If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have?

What I can do is dream of something better, imagine the possibility of a world with no enemies.

Or at least, imagine the possibility of my life with no enemies.

I have rejoiced at a man’s death.

But I don’t have to. I can fight that compulsion. I can declare, “No more!”

Rachel Held Evans is a popular author living just down the road from us who occasionally bridges the gap that is, contrary to the rest of our culture, actually shrinking between evangelicals and progressives. This past week, she reflected on the cost of pitting ourselves against each other:

I have made assumptions about my brothers and sisters in the faith, only to learn that they too have struggled through big questions, they've just arrived at different answers. I’ve spoken with twenty-somethings whose families ridiculed them when they came to Christianity and with women whose professors sneered at them when they challenged feminist teachings. Once, after I told someone he must certainly have never met a gay person in his life, he responded that his ex-wife was a lesbian and he struggles with how to raise his children with her in a gracious and loving way.

How little I know of other people’s stories. How swift I am to judge based on where we met in the path without bothering to ask where they've come from.

I’ve been thinking….

We fight like brothers and sister because we are. We've all been adopted into God’s family. 

Maybe we don’t have to change each other’s minds to lighten one another’s load by not assuming motives, by giving each other the benefit of the doubt that we arrived at our beliefs through honest searching.  

There’s a cost to every conviction.  

What mine have cost me may be different than what yours have cost you, but the sense of loss is the same.  And so is the hope that comes with breaking bread together in spite of our theological and political differences and settling into the sweet certainty that following Jesus doesn’t have to cost this.  It doesn’t have to cost our love for one another.

Not if we don't want it to.

What is it we want? What do we want for our enemies? Do we want their destruction? That’s certainly not Christlike. It’s a relic of a theology from a bygone era to which Jesus has declared, No More. Do we want their conversion? Don’t you think they want ours, too? Don’t you think that they feel just as justified by good sense and by scripture as we do?

It doesn’t matter if we think we’re right. It doesn’t matter if we know we’re right. In fact, that only makes us far more dangerous. It pits us more firmly against our enemies with no firmer footing than they have.

Now, here’s the problem with this sermon: When you leave here, those of you who think this “love your enemy” thing is a bunch of malarky, or just won’t work in the real world, will still leave here thinking that way.

That’s the problem with the sermon. Any sermon. I can’t convince you if you’re not willing to listen in the first place.

And that, friends, is exactly the problem with our world today. We aren’t willing to listen. When we find ourselves in the company of those who agree with us, we congratulate each other on being right, on being convinced by each other; we affirm our mutual belief and remind each other of the evils that surround us that seek to convert us, to soften our hardened hearts, to open our closed minds.

I’ll never convince you.

Neither will Jesus.

God help you.

If, on the other hand, you don’t think this “love your enemy” thing is a bunch of malarky, then I think Jesus is offering you room to grow. What will you do with it?

You have an opportunity to shape the conversations you share. You can not only reject words and attitudes that are hateful and grown from fear of what’s different; you can also help shape other people’s vocabulary and ideas. Refuse to have ugly speech around you. Stand up for people, even if you don’t know them. 

The danger in doing that is that it might lose you friends. But if your friends are hateful and reactionary, and if your friends will abandon you because you stand up for someone else, are they really the kind of friends you want?

You can shape conversations around you.

You can also put yourself directly into communities of folk who are not like you. That is the best way to understand what their experience is. And, oddly enough, if you spend enough time with someone, you’ll probably find that you have a lot more in common than what separates you.

Now, I am not suggesting that you go and be in ministry to people who are not like you. That still sets up a hierarchical system that puts walls up and keeps us from being in relationship with each other. It sets up one group of givers and one group of receivers, and the two cannot develop community.

We are not clients and providers. We are people.

Our best relationships happen when we share more experiences. The more you have in common with someone, the deeper your potential relationship can be.

The deeper your relationship, the more you can understand each other. The more we understand each other, the more we stand up for each other. The more we stand up for each other, the fewer enemies we have.

The fewer enemies we have, the closer the Kingdom of God comes.

Will you be a Kingdom-bringer?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

On Being Salty and Lit; a sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Epiphany

Matthew 5:13-20

“You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its saltiness, how will it become salty again? It’s good for nothing except to be thrown away and trampled under people’s feet. 14 You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill can’t be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand, and it shines on all who are in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven.

17 “Don’t even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I haven’t come to do away with them but to fulfill them. 18 I say to you very seriously that as long as heaven and earth exist, neither the smallest letter nor even the smallest stroke of a pen will be erased from the Law until everything there becomes a reality. 19 Therefore, whoever ignores one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do the same will be called the lowest in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever keeps these commands and teaches people to keep them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 I say to you that unless your righteousness is greater than the righteousness of the legal experts and the Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Let the words of my mouth
    and the meditations of my heart
    be pleasing to you,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

What is the point of law?

See, it’s my job to occasionally ask philosophical questions.

What’s the point of law? Not a specific law, just law in general.

That depends on who you ask, I suppose.

Ask Aristotle and you come up with the idea that law’s function is to define the purpose of the state. Often, we see law as overbearing, as constricting our liberties, but Aristotle points out that the law, in fact, reflects who we are as a society.

Want to understand more about the character of a family? Look at their household rules and economics. What standards to they value and invest in?

Want to understand more about a society? Look at the laws by which they govern themselves and the priorities their legislation defines regarding their national and international economy.

Aristotle is interested in forms, in ideals, in seeing all of history and all of creation in magnificent, sweeping strokes. Other scholars, contemporary scholars, tend to seek more pragmatic, immediate definitions.

Law is designed and implemented to set guidelines for conduct and behavior within a society.

Keep us organized. Keep us safe. Keep us protected.

It’s a very practical approach to life together, unlike Aristotle’s. Also unlike a lot of our Biblical opinion.

Now, if you want it quite beautifully put, spend some time meditating on Psalm 119. It’s an acrostic meditation on Torah, a word of praise and wonder about the way the Hebrew people encountered the Divine.

On the other hand, Paul speaks about the purpose of the law, referring specifically to Torah:

Before faith came, we were guarded under the Law, locked up until faith that was coming would be revealed, so that the Law became our custodian until Christ so that we might be made righteous by faith.

But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a custodian.

The Law kept us locked away, “confined” being a safe translation of the word, like a child in a playpen.

But now the law has been fulfilled. Another one of those words that means something different to everyone you might ask, especially in this context.

The law, after all, isn’t a cup about which we can argue whether half-full or half-empty is a more appropriate description. It’s more than a contract between two parties that could either be completed or neglected. It’s a covenant, or the mark of a covenant between God and the children of Israel.

More specifically, it’s a conditional covenant. 

Is that familiar?

There are conditional covenants and unconditional covenants. The most famous covenant is the covenant with Noah. Noah gets off the ark, unloads all the animals who trudge through the mud and populate the world, sees a rainbow and hears God say, “I am NOT doing this again!” and promptly gets himself smashingly drunk.

God doesn’t say, “I won’t do this again IF people can behave themselves.” God says, “I won’t do this again. Period.”

Unconditional covenant.

Unlike the law.

God tells the people:

So now, if you faithfully obey me and stay true to my covenant, you will be my most precious possession out of all the peoples, since the whole earth belongs to me. You will be a kingdom of priests for me and a holy nation. 

That “if” makes all the difference.

That “if” shows us what kind of a God we have.

The people certainly don’t keep their end of the covenant, which means God has every reason to reneg on the Divine end of the covenant, too. That is the expected response. One covenant party defaulting on the covenant frees the other party from holding true to their end.

But instead of walking out, God commits even more deeply.

God becomes human to fully commit to the covenant.

Because the covenant isn’t about right and wrong. It isn’t about following rules. The covenant, even the covenant of the Law, the covenant of Moses, is about God fully loving people.

That doesn’t sound like law, does it? That’s not about just keeping an orderly society. It’s not just about implementing guidelines for conduct and behavior.

It’s something a lot more like Aristotle. Rather, I think Aristotle’s understanding of law may enlighten what Jesus is doing to fulfill the law.

If the function of the law is to define the purpose of the state, then God becoming incarnate because God loves us enough to ignore our unfaithfulness, our neglect of the covenant, tells us that the kind of state, the kind of people of God we are called to be is a family of people who love each other and all God’s creation enough to forgive… and forgive… and forgive… until we’ve forgiven as much as God has.

We’re called to be people who share that forgiveness everywhere. We’re called to be people who rethink law, who rethink the purpose of law, because God has turned the law on its head.

We’re called to be a people who understand what God speaks through Isaiah:

You quarrel and brawl, and then you fast;
    you hit each other violently with your fists.
You shouldn’t fast as you are doing today
    if you want to make your voice heard on high.
Is this the kind of fast I choose,
    a day of self-affliction,
    of bending one’s head like a reed
    and of lying down in mourning clothing and ashes?
    Is this what you call a fast,
        a day acceptable to the Lord?

Isn’t this the fast I choose:
    releasing wicked restraints, untying the ropes of a yoke,
    setting free the mistreated,
    and breaking every yoke?
Isn’t it sharing your bread with the hungry
    and bringing the homeless poor into your house,
    covering the naked when you see them,
    and not hiding from your own family?

That’s what it means to be the salt of the earth. We are what make life worth living. We are what give life meaning, flavor, intensity of experience in the same way that salt intensifies taste.

That’s what it means to be the light of the world. We’re called not to reveal all that the world has done wrong. That’s not what God’s light does. We’re called to shine love into those dark places, to warm the hearts that are cold, to dispel the shadows that are the stuff of nightmares, dancing trees in the moonlight scraping long claws onto the cold walls of our midnight rooms. God’s light burns through the nightmares, melts our frozen hearts, shows us each what God has created us to be.

Salt and light. That’s what God has created us to be.

People who free each other, untie the yokes of slavery, share our bread, shelter the homeless, cover the naked, bring relationships into wholeness.

Will you do that for Jesus today? Will you be salty and lit with God’s love?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Behold! a sermon for Epiphany

Matthew 2:1-12

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in the territory of Judea during the rule of King Herod, magi came from the east to Jerusalem. 2 They asked, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We’ve seen his star in the east, and we’ve come to honor him.”

3 When King Herod heard this, he was troubled, and everyone in Jerusalem was troubled with him. 4 He gathered all the chief priests and the legal experts and asked them where the Christ was to be born. 5 They said, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote:

6 You, Bethlehem, land of Judah,
        by no means are you least among the rulers of Judah,
            because from you will come one who governs,
            who will shepherd my people Israel.”

7 Then Herod secretly called for the magi and found out from them the time when the star had first appeared. 8 He sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search carefully for the child. When you’ve found him, report to me so that I too may go and honor him.” 9 When they heard the king, they went; and look, the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stood over the place where the child was. 10 When they saw the star, they were filled with joy. 11 They entered the house and saw the child with Mary his mother. Falling to their knees, they honored him. Then they opened their treasure chests and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12 Because they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they went back to their own country by another route.

Let the words of my mouth
    and the meditations of my heart
    be pleasing to you,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

The United Methodist General Board of Discipleship has been offering online a ministry called Chuck Knows Church. It’s a series of videos about stuff we do and say and see around church, from a specifically United Methodist perspective. The videos are genuinely fun and entertaining and informative. All in all, it’s one of the potentially most effective ministries that the Church has produced.

I recommend that you check it out.

This past week, Chuck offered some background on the story of the magi who came to present Jesus with gold, frankincense, and myrrh. If you were watching the Circuit’s FaceBook page, you probably caught it, too.

And I warned you, on that FaceBook post, that there would be a quiz.

So let’s see what we know about the wise men.

First, in how many of the gospels is the story of the wise men found? Only in Matthew. We can guess as much as we’d like about the reason Matthew may have included this story, but in the end, guessing is all we have. We can’t get in Matthew’s head with any degree of accuracy.

Second, how many wise men were there? We don’t know. Matthew doesn’t tell us. We just infer that there are three because there are three gifts mentioned (v.11).

Then they opened their treasure chests and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Third, when do the wise men come? I talked a bit about this last week. We don’t know. Again. We infer from Herod’s statement (v.16) that it was some time before the child was three:

When Herod knew the magi had fooled him, he grew very angry. He sent soldiers to kill all the children in Bethlehem and in all the surrounding territory who were two years old and younger, according to the time that he had learned from the magi.

Plus, Matthew tells us (v.11) that the Magi don’t come to a stable, but to a house. Apparently Joseph has put down roots in Bethlehem:

They entered the house and saw the child with Mary his mother.

Fourth, what does Matthew call them? He calls them magi, μαγος, which is a designation for people of wisdom from the east. They could be philosophers, astrologers, teachers, priests, sorcerers… we really don’t know. We assume they are astrologers because it is a star that guides them to the Child King. We call them scientists today because astrology is as advanced a study of the heavens as we find outside of Greece at that time.

What they are not is kings. So the bit that the first line of “We Three Kings” gets right isn’t in the title. It’s that the magi are vaguely oriental.

Not the first time one of our hymns has gotten our theology wrong. And it won’t be the last.

What the story gets very right is how broadly important Jesus is. For that matter, I’m a bit surprised that it’s Matthew who includes the story and not Luke. It is Luke who records the movement exploding far beyond Judea, through Paul, into the broader greek world. If somebody were to point out, even this early, just how wide the implication of Messiah is, I’d expect it to be Luke.

But I didn’t write it. I don’t make those choices.

Matthew doesn’t bother to point out that the heavens rejoice at Jesus’s birth. He doesn’t point out the good news reaching the shepherds first, one of the filthiest and most degraded groups in Judea.

He points out that a group of magi from somewhere in the east, non-Hebrews, probably worshipers of some other god, see a sign in the stars and figure out that something amazing was happening in Judea.

They aren’t Jews. They don’t belong to the local synagogue. They don’t even know who YHWH is.

They just know something amazing is happening, and they come to behold the Child King.

They have an epiphany, a revelation of a miracle, and with no back story and no context, they recognize that something important is going on, so they come not just to check it out, but to pay homage.

But today, the Church claims a monopoly on miracles. If there’s going to be an epiphany, it has to happen through us. If Christ is going to come again, it’s going to be according to the way we understand it.

Since when does God play by our rules?

The Good News Matthew tells through the magi isn’t such good news for the institution that is the Church. It’s good news for a world that is often unknowingly looking for a revelation from God. It’s good news because this is a story that tells us that God can work through any means God chooses to bring humanity an epiphany today.

We, meanwhile, have our noses stuck in a book, expecting a revelation through the very ancient words that tell us, time and time again, that revelation happens wherever God chooses to make it happen.

During Jesus’s time, it is the people with their noses stuck in books who miss the revelation of Christ.

Friends, we can’t afford to miss Jesus. We as a church can’t afford to be blind to the Messiah we find in the poor, the widow, the orphan, the alien, the prisoner, the hungry, the abandoned. If we forsake them, then we should remember that God’s historical response is to forsake us. We as individuals can’t afford to bury our heads in our books and our presuppositions and miss the blessings and miracles God is working around and in spite of us every day.

We can’t afford to miss that.

Sure, there are occasional moments of epiphany that happen through the Church and her people, but increasingly, God’s miracles are happening outside these walls, outside this Body.

And increasingly, it is the world outside the Church that’s catching on to the grace and mercy God is working all around them, while the Body trudges on slowly into atrophy and inevitable death.

The world may not call those moments by their Divine Name, but that doesn’t make them any less miraculous or God-sent.

We can’t afford to miss that.

Friends, we have to open our eyes and call out those God moments, proclaiming, Behold! The risen and powerful King! Behold! Emmanuel, God with and through us!

We have to open our eyes to the inevitable epiphanies happening all around us every day. When we do, God’s Spirit will speak to us and breathe through us and make us powerful proclaimers of the goodness of God.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.