Tuesday, February 16, 2016

February 14, 2016


“Repentance as Saying Yes...”
Isaiah 58: 1-12
It’s Lent again — I can see the excitement in your faces and can even read what you are thinking:
“Oh boy, Lent, we’ve been waiting all year for this...just like Christmas. The anticipation in us has been building to a crescendo; we cannot wait to give up a bunch of things we like so that we can prove our worthiness and devotion to God. Do we get to wear sack cloth and ashes like the Jews when they repented? Really, let’s thank God Lent is here; I don’t know what I would do if it didn’t come every year! I mean, that Ash Wednesday service was just the tops — I left so full of the Spirit. And Sundays...wow...you cannot believe how we hang on the edge of our seats wondering which sin you will hammer on this Sunday. Then, there’s Maundy Thursday and Good Friday — where we remember that our sin is what drove our Lord to give up his life. Hey, now there’s a couple of services that will pack them in for sure. Sure am glad Lent finally got here...”

OK, maybe this is a little overkill this morning, but you get my drift. There is no task harder or more “anti-culture” than preaching in Lent. Who wants to hear sermons on self-sacrifice, sin and what we need to give up in our lives? Who wants to go to church and listen to the preacher condemn them every Sunday? Why have Lent anyway? Really...Jesus died that we might be forgiven for our sin...why harp on it? Just ask forgiveness and move on; that’s what other churches do.

Yet, Lent is persistent; it won’t go away. While Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, Presbyterian, and Orthodox churches have observed Lent for centuries; even evangelical churches, Baptist and Methodist included, are now observing Lent, i.e., having a period of emphasis on confession of sin and focus on one’s life in the weeks leading up to Easter. The history of Lent is somewhat fuzzy, but suffice it to say that by 325AD and the Council of Nicaea a forty day period of prayer, fasting and self-examination had become common place in the Christian church. Why 40 days? This period recalls the 40 day fast of Jesus in the desert as he began his ministry. Lent, or something like it, goes back in some form to the early days of the Christian church.

Yet, we commit a grave faux pas in our Lenten observance. Though well intended, the reality is that during Lent we talk much more about what we are going to give up, rather than what we are going to positively do as a symbol of our faith and trust in Christ. The result is that Lent is perceived negatively. We Christians become further known for what we are against rather than for what we are for, for what we are not rather than for what we believe and espouse.
Psychologically this sort of pattern is predisposed to failure. As human beings we are unable to “not focus” on something. If I tell you to not think about the number 9, that’s what you think about. If we are playing golf and I say, “Don’t hit it in the lake on the left...” guess where you will probably hit it? Negative focus never works.

Positive focus, on the other hand, works really well. If we say to our children “Don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t steal or you will suffer the consequences,” chances are that will not resonate well with them. However, if we say “Be a person of integrity, honesty and character by always telling the truth for that is pleasing to God,” this is much more likely to take root in them. If a doctor says, “Lose weight,” that may go in one ear and out the other. However, if that same doctor says, “Walk, exercise more, eat right and you will look and feel better and have more energy,” now that gets our ears perked up.

This emphasis is nothing new, Isaiah said as much in our text from the 58th chapter. The situation is that Israel has returned from exile in Babylon and is trying to re-establish her nation in her homeland. However, worship has become perfunctory and ritualistic. She goes through all the right motions; properly observing the High and Holy Days to the nth degree. When she is supposed to mourn and fast in sack cloth and ashes, she does. However, to her surprise she senses not the presence of God, but God’s absence in her worship. Did we hear those words from Isaiah 58 which offer a direct challenge from Israel to God?

Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?1
In other words, they are saying: “God we are doing what we are supposed to do, but you’re not holding up your part of the covenant, i.e., you are not showing up like you are supposed to do. Where are you?”

Did we pay attention to God’s reply through Isaiah?
“Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.  Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself?
Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?”
2


Whoa! Isaiah hits back rather hard, does he not? God rejects their fasting and repentance as unworthy! God does not want them to fast and mourn like this. I can only imagine this sermon hit them like a ton of bricks. What they are doing in worship is totally wrong, according to God. But Isaiah does not stop there; rather he continues with a positive affirmation of what proper fasting looks like:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them,

and not to hide yourself from your own kin?3

Now, this paints a different picture of repentance, does it not? God’s fast is not about sack cloth and ashes, but about justice, about setting people free, about helping others to have shelter, food, and clothing. God’s fast is about identifying with the poor rather than living apart from them and refusing to “see them.” For God, worship is about living a life in accord with God’s teachings, not just showing up and going through a show for the sake of others.

Isaiah’s proclamation is consistent with the understanding of repentance in Judaism as a whole The word for repentance in Judaism is teshuva. There are two types of repentance. The first is teshuvá mi-yir’á, "repentance rooted in fear.” This repentance is fear based, either in fear of humans or God. This repentance is acknowledged as a beginning step in Judaism, but it is a lesser form. The highest form of repentance is teshuvá mei-ahavá, i.e., "repentance rooted in love.”4 In this form the repentance comes not from fear but from a deep love of God, a love which is a vivid response in one’s soul to the love one has experienced in God. The greatest repentance comes not from fear of punishment, but out the realization that, at the deepest level of the universe, we are loved beyond belief. Repentance rooted in love is more about what we do, both individually and corporately, in helping others than it is about our piety and prayers. The height of biblical repentance is positive, based in who we are called to be in Christ, not in negativity or fear. Repentance rooted in love recognizes that we are called to live in such a way as to lift not only ourselves, but others around us. As the great Jewish teach A.J. Heschel put it: “Few are guilty, but all are responsible.” We may not have created the conditions which imprison others, but we all must recognize, in repentance, that we are responsible under God to change them.

Isaiah continues with a strong affirmation of how God will respond to such repentance: “Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.”5

These are tremendous words from Isaiah as they promise that God is coming, he will go before and behind them. Further, the night of their horror will be over — they will cry to God and God will respond. Remember: they are returning from captivity in Babylon. They have just experienced their greatest horror, to be enslaved to another nation. Isaiah goes on to proclaim that not only does God want them to be free, God desires for all to be set free, for all to be liberated from all the bondages of human existence. Isaiah recognizes that as they work to set free those enslaved in one way or another, then they will find themselves being set free as well.

Maybe our repentance ought to look like setting people free, as well. We live in a culture which, while we preach freedom, has people enslaved to all manner of masters. Some are enslaved to addictions; others are enslaved to success; still others are enslaved to wealth while others are enslaved in poverty. The freedom we desire, the freedom we seek — whether we see ourselves as slaves, masters or both — the freedom we need is the freedom found in God through Jesus Christ.
It is the freedom to worship and serve only one Lord, Jesus the Christ.
It is the freedom to be judged by only one person, Jesus the Christ.
It is the freedom to be whom we believe God has called us to be and in so doing to be a liberator of others, to set them free as well.

If we were to study slavery throughout history, one reality would quickly become apparent: not only were the servants enslaved to their masters, the masters were enslaved to their servants as well. The ball and chain which bound the slave also bound the master in both their person and reality.

As followers of Jesus Christ we are called to a repentance which not only sets us free, it sets others free and in so doing sets all of us free to live our lives in a way that we believe God calls us to do. When we set others free, we set ourselves free as well. We will never know the full freedom of life until all of God’s children are free. When we set people free from hunger and poverty, we set ourselves free. When we set people free from homelessness and addiction, we set ourselves free. When we set people free from all the demons of our world so that they are able to live, laugh and love in the fulness of God’s Spirit, we are set free as well.

How is this possible? Quite simply, we must alter our understanding of faith from intellectual to affectional, from our head to our heart. We Protestants are really good at intellectual Christianity and have been for decades. There is nothing wrong with this, for if we do not understand our faith we will be open to every heresy that comes down the pike. However, in the final analysis faith is a matter of our heart, of our love, of that which moves and stirs us emotionally. In the New Testament the word belief is used as a noun, but more often as a verb, to believe. Belief is not just about what we know, but involves what we do more than what we say. So it is with repentance: when we repent we proclaim that this is the way I am intend to live my life under God. Repentance is not merely a moving from — it is a moving to a certain way of living that is an emotional commitment of our entire being to our Lord and Savior.


So, this Lent let’s join together and set ourselves free from those fears which hold us fast by living up to be the persons we believe God has called us to be. And, let’s see whom else we can help to be free as well...if I’m not mistaken I believe that’s what the New Testament calls sharing the euanggellion — the good news. Lent? Evangelism? Good news? Liberation? Who knew?
Amen.

1 Isaiah 58: 3a
2 Isaiah 58: 3b-5.
3Isaiah 58: 6-7
4 David R. Blumenthal, Repentance and Forgiveness, http://www.crosscurrents.org/blumenthal.htm. 5 Isaiah 58: 8-9 

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Christmas Eve, 2015

“Reflections on Incarnation”
Luke 2: 8-20; John 1: 14;
And so it is Christmas...or at least Christmas Eve. During our Advent journey we have experienced the gospel in a 3 fold manner: Wait. Want. Wonder. Tonight we will wonder — we will look with amazement back some 2000 years or so and wonder that the birth of a Jewish boy in poverty and anonymity could have such a powerful effect upon this planet spinning its way through time and space. We will wonder at the claims we Christians make for that night and this baby — that in Jesus all of God lived fully and completely...incarnation we call it...and yes, we wonder.
The story is told of a young boy traveling with his father one Christmas Eve in the middle of the depression into the nearby city. Their mission was for the son to show the father what he wanted for Christmas from the many vendors who had lined up their carts on the main street. Upon indicating a chemistry set his father inquired as to the price; he turned away and they walked on a bit further. The writer recalled that when they got to the end of the carts he finally realized that his father had only a few cents saved up, having mistakenly believed that he had enough money to buy what his son desired.
They walked slowly back home without a present, each with their hands in their own pockets. The writer said that he wanted to take his father’s hand, to tell him that it was alright, that he loved him and that having him as a father was enough. However, as he put it, “we were not on that basis.” Instead they walked on, two lonely individuals needing each other but separated by the chasm of years and culture.i
How tragic that on the night remembered by Christians the world over as the defining moment for humankind, a father and son should feel separated from each other! However, what is more tragic is that on this night when we celebrate the Incarnation — that invasion of human existence by the Creator — that for too many of us this story of a dysfunctional father and son more likely signifies the reality of our existence. We are, as it were, walking down the road with God — yet often separated so that we cannot take God’s hand and know God’s love. We are, in Bret Harte’s words, “...not on that basis.”
As humans I believe that we recognize this truth subconsciously, held deep within our psyche. We live a “rather than...” existence, as it were. Old and young, poor and wealthy, male and female, of all ethnicities and racial identities – rather than feel our connectedness to all of life, we feel our separateness. Rather than knowing God’s loving presence we feel God’s absence. Rather than, in our heart of hearts knowing the peace
of God, we feel a deep inner struggle against whatever it is that exists in our universe. We feel loneliness...and we hurt. We live “rather than...”
The gospel seeks to counteract those “rather than” feelings and emotions. It’s message is quite simple: In the birth of Jesus God reaches down and takes our hand...that we might “be on that basis.” In this Bethlehem story we experience God’s power to connect with us in a manner which transcends race, culture, nationality, and/or political persuasions.
Tonight we revisit this Bethlehem narrative because we know that its powerful thematic tentacles creep deep into the caverns of our being and latch hold of our soul. We are a people who quickly forget who we are and whose we are; in our spiritual amnesia we are enticed by other gods and other stories. The most common sin may not be unbelief as much as failing to remember who we are. This Nativity narrative reminds us of from where we came, who we are and where we are going. This simple story of the birth of a Jewish baby in Palestine pulls us into God’s presence in ways that little else can do.
In this story we discover a simple yet profound truth about our God-human relationship: God is love; God is always love; therefore loving relationship lies at the heart of God and of every human being as well. We are nothing without relationship; we exist and love only in relationship. Incarnation informs us that life is about a relationship with God based solely in the love of God.
Yet, even the closest and most tender of our relationships can go stale. It is so easy, is it not, to miss what life is really all about? In a world of pain and heart-ache we are seduced into shutting down our soul that we might avoid the pain that accompanies loss. The tragedy of life comes not so much in what we undergo, as in what we miss in these “shut-down” moments. When we shut off ourselves from others, not to mention God, we place our soul in a prison cell of our own making, missing life and love. And so we live...not on that basis.
As I write this sermon, in my mind’s eye I see refugees leaving Syria and other volatile places around the world — and I think of this first nativity — when Joseph and Mary had to leave their home in Nazareth and under the edict of a foreign political power go to Bethlehem where they might register for the purpose of taxation. Were they not fearful and scared as they traveled the roads, wondering what strangers they might meet? Were they not afraid of the Roman soldiers who occupied their land? Is it not telling that the Lord of all was born in a stable on the backside of nowhere? Does this story not speak to the love of God for each all, even those whom we consider the “least of these?” Do these know enough to live “on that basis?” Or, are they living “rather than...?” Do we?

Oscar Romero, former bishop and slain martyr in El Salvador, put it this way: “I know that I am a thought in God, no matter how insignificant I may be – the most abandoned of beings, one no one thinks of...Think to yourselves, you that are outcasts, you that feel you are nothing in history: “I know that I am a thought in God.”ii
Incarnation reminds each and every one of us that we are thoughts in the very being of God. Let’s allow that thought to roll around inside of us this Christmas Eve. Every refugee, every drug addict, every homeless and hurting person — each and every one of us exists and matters to God.
What if we were to see each other as bearing the image of God? I think of people so afraid of neighbors they do not know and of strangers who do not look like them. Could it be that our calling as Christians is to reach out in love to the other, whether they be Jewish, Muslim, Sikh or whomever, and share with them the love of Christ? Could it be that if we live out of the Jesus narrative of Incarnational love that we will begin the transformation of our world? Whose narrative do we believe, anyway? The world’s narrative of fear or the Bethlehem narrative of love and faith? Dare we live out of God’s narrative and not that of the world?
I challenge you this evening to look at those next to you, at those with whom you will celebrate this holy occasion — and see in them the very presence of God. If God were standing before you, how would you treat God? How then, ought we to treat one another? Together we can live out the Incarnation and in so doing see the gospel come alive. In Christ we can“be on that basis...”
Thanks be to God who dared to invade our lives and indwell our hearts. Amen.

i I have lost the source of this illustration. ii Oscar Romero, The Violence of Love. 

Sunday, November 15, 2015

11-15-2015

“What About the Cross?’
Hebrews 10: 11-18
What are we to make of the cross?  How are we, in the 21st century, modern and enlightened people that we are, to understand the crucifixion of Jesus in the 1st century?  Is the cross nothing more than a vestige of blood-filled, primitive religion which is to be excised in our modern world?
Try as we might — and we do try — as Christians we cannot escape the cross. Crucifixion texts abound throughout the New Testament: 
  • The gospels focus on the crucifixion and resurrection as the apex of the life of Christ. 
  • For Paul, the most prolific author and thinker of early Christianity, the  sacrificial death of Jesus upon the cross is the inescapable truth.  Remember that great statement by Paul? “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”   
To be a Christian, a “Christ-follower,” is to be surrounded by the cross; no, it is to be centered upon the cross.  We worship with virtual images of the cross burned into our psyche.  Early sanctuaries reflected the shape of the cross in their very architecture.  Many of us love to sing the hymns of the cross.  
Yet, when we speak of our faith in and love for Jesus Christ today, I hear very few references to the cross.  It is as if we really don’t know what to do with the cross, the bloody, wretched cross.  The cross offends our sensibilities and sense of decorum.  After all, we are really good, lovable and intelligent people — why would we need a Savior to die on a cross for us?  
So often we speak of the love of God, forgiveness from sin, peace with God and eternal life as if these were philosophical entities available on their own.  The nicer we become the less meaning the cross seems to have for us.  The great theologian and ethicist, H. Richard Niebuhr stated the essence of our modern theology in his now-famous quote from the middle of the last century: “A God without wrath brought men (sic) without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.”  Contrast this with the gospel witness, i.e., the essence of the earliest Christian preaching, that forgiveness for sin and eternal life are available only through the sacrificial death by crucifixion of one Jesus of Nazareth.  These views are not fully compatible.  Either the cross is central, or the cross is unimportant.  
My observation has been that this move away from having the cross as central to our faith and life is devastating to our faith.  Why?  Simply put: the further we move from the cross, the “better” we look to ourselves and each other and the less we see ourselves as sinners in need of atonement.  Jesus did not die for good people…Jesus died for sinners.  When we forget that we are sinners, we lose the essence of the gospel.  When we diminish the cross, we lose our sense of total dependency upon God and of the depth of love that we encounter in this at once incredible and horrible event.  Why?
In the cross we are confronted by the face of sin and evil such as we cannot ignore.
Often people ask: “Why is there such evil and suffering in the world?”  My answer has become very simple: “Because we humans are alive and well — and we are sinners, pure and simple.”  To be a sinner we do not have to kill another, steal from another or cheat on our spouse.  To be a sinner all we have to do is choose that which is not of God or  God’s will for our lives.  Sin is about selfishness, about an egotism which reigns at the heart of our lives.  Sin is about wanting my way, being master of my own ship, of claiming my own destiny rather than allowing God in Christ to set the course.  Even “nice people” are sinners, are they not?
What face do we imagine when we speak of the face of evil?  Charles Manson? Osama bin Laden?  Adolf Hitler?  Do we ever think of taking a mirror and looking into it?  Ours is the face of evil — for in our sin we partake of evil.  This is quite difficult to imagine, is it not?  
Now that Debby and I have 3 grandchildren our lives have been enriched in so many wonderful ways.  However, I have also been reminded of how difficult it is to reason with a 2-3 year old.  When they get their minds made up they can be virtually impossible to guide, much less control.  As I watched my sons/daughters-in-law working with their children (and they are wonderfully patient parents) I thought, “How must  God feel about us?”  God wants to bless us, to lead us in the paths that are good and right — and we want to fight God at every step.  We want to go our own way, thinking that somehow we know best.  When we grow a bit older we can see that the paths we choose apart from God so often end in pain, suffering, and sorrow — without any sense of hope or God’s presence.  The path of life in God may also have pain, suffering and tragedy, but it is such that in Christ we will be able to accept and move through it.  Apart from Christ our paths end in these tragic consequences; in Christ they move through them into a deeper sense of life than we could ever imagine.  Salvation is through Christ — and it goes through Calvary.
When we look at the cross we are reminded that the removal of sin and evil was neither simple nor painless — and is for our sin and our evil.  Sin and evil are real — and they are removed only through the atoning death of Jesus our Lord.
In the cross we are confronted by the Holiness and Love of God.
We don’t hear much about the holiness of God anymore.  We tend to stress the love of God.  However if we would understand the God of Holy Scripture, then we must see God as both holy and loving.  These central attributes of God go together.  To say that God is holy is to say that God is morally pure and perfect, i.e., that God is without sin.  It is also to say that God is opposed to sin, to all that harms and destroys God’s creation. To say that God is loving is to say that God puts all creation, including humanity, before God’s self.  When we say “God is love” we are saying that God desires with each and all of us an intimate relationship wherein we know and are known, fully and completely.  These attributes of God, properly understood, are inseparable.  Thomas Oden put it this way:
“God would not be as holy as God is without being incomparably loving.  God would not be as loving as God is without being incomparably holy.  God’s holiness without God’s love would be unbearable.  God’s love without God’s holiness would be unjust.  God’s wisdom found a way to bring them congruently together.  It involved a cross.”
When I think of God’s holiness, I think of God’s fierce opposition to that which hurts us, i.e., to sin.  God’s opposition to sin is not based in God wanting to hurt or punish us — God loves us.  God wants the best for us — so when God says, “Don’t eat of the fruit of that tree or you will sure die,” God knows what God is talking about.  For God love is not permissive — it is focused on guiding us into what is best for us.  Adam and Eve believed the lie of Satan that God only wanted to keep them under God’s thumb, controlled and “imprisoned” as it were.  What they discovered is that life as God designed was true freedom and joy, not the life that they chose.  In the cross we find God’s holiness and love coming together to remove the presence of sin and evil from our lives.  
In the cross we find the best image of God’s grace.
So often we throw around words like grace and forgiveness as if they were easy, peasy, nothing to it.  As an agnostic philosopher once said, “Humans love to sin, God loves to forgive sin; ergo, this is the best of all possible worlds.”  Yet, quite frankly, this is not true — at least this is not the true Christian message.  Grace, the forgiveness by God of our sin, came at the highest price — the death of Jesus the Son of God upon an ugly and cruel cross.  
To understand concepts such as grace, sin and forgiveness we must use some metaphors to help us comprehend the atonement, what Christ accomplished on the cross.  None of these metaphors is perfect, but each can and does have an aspect through which we can better grasp God’s accomplishment in and through the cross of Christ Jesus.  
One common metaphor is to see human existence separated from God by a vast and massive, impassable, sin-caused chasm: we cannot cross it by human means.  God’s holiness (God’s refusal to be in the presence of sin) means that we cannot come fully into the presence of God.  This is the reason why there are times when we “feel separated” from God.  Apart from Christ we feel not the presence but rather the absence of God; we have a deep, deep longing for God and we cannot, on our own, cross that chasm. In the crucifixion/resurrection of Christ we have God bridging the chasm as only God can do, in Jesus the Christ.  
Another metaphor is that of paying a legal debt/penalty we owe for our sin.  The idea is that through our sin we are indebted to God; we must pay for our sin to be removed.  Unfortunately, we cannot “pay our own way,” so to speak.  God has already provided the payment in the form of Jesus Christ, for God pays the penalty for our sin, not us.  It is as if God steps down from God’s place as judge and pays the penalty for us.
A sacrificial offering for our sin is a final commonly used metaphor.  Judaism (and many other religions) practiced the blood sacrifice of animals as an offering for their sin.  In our Hebrew’s texts the writer, an anonymous Christian who was probably a former Jewish priest, uses sacrificial imagery to portray Jesus as both the priest who offers the sacrifice and as the sacrificial offering himself.  Because of the uniqueness of Christ — the Son of God who dies in our stead — no other sacrificial offering is necessary.  The sacrifice for sin has been accomplished, once for all, in the death of Jesus.
While each of these metaphors has its limits, each is valuable in helping us to understand the centrality of the cross to atonement and therefore to Christianity.  There is no atonement without the cross; there is no Christianity without atonement.  Hence, there is no Christianity without the cross.
One of my homiletical mentors, John Killinger, introduced me to the short film “The Bridge.”  I don’t know if you have ever seen that movie, but the ending is quite difficult.
It is the story of a fine young couple who have a son. They are very happy together, and the boy is trying to grow up to be just like his father. Then the film shows the father going off to work. He is the switchman for a railroad line that carries people on holiday from one place to another. Part of the line lies over a river, where it must be drawn back most of the time for boats to pass. It is his job to wait until the last moment, then pull the switch that swings the bridge into place before the thundering approach of the train. We, the viewers of the film, see what the father does not see: His little son has followed him to the river and is coming across the bridge. As the train whistle sounds to signal the approach of the speeding train the father sees the boy. If he closes the track, the boy will die. We watch the agony on his face. He loves the boy better than anything in his life. But finally he pulls the lever and locks the bridge into place. We see the people on the train laughing and having a good time as the train races across the bridge. They do not how narrowly they have averted disaster, or what it has cost the switchman. 
This is what the cross is all about…and this is why we can never, ever omit the cross.  Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Robert U. Ferguson, Jr., Ph.d.
Emerywood Baptist Church
1300 Country Club Drive
High Point, North Carolina 27262

November 15, 2015

Monday, August 24, 2015

8-23

The Sacred Art of Stone Throwing
John 8: 1-11

There is probably no more well-known but also troubling scene in all the gospels than our text this morning. Here we find the religious elite bringing a “sinner” to Jesus — not for forgiveness, but for justice; not for redemption but for revenge.  They were members of the “Sacred Society of Self-Righteous Stone Throwers.”  They loved to find someone doing something “wrong” and bring them to public ridicule.  Why?  Why is a good question, is it not?
Have we given much thought to what goes into producing someone like this?  No one is born legalistic or judgmental; we are forged into that pattern in life.  What forces had so conspired that these had become such ardent attackers of “sin?”  We would not consider these to be “bad” or “evil” persons. They were the pillars of society, i.e., teachers of the law & religious leaders.  These were highly educated and thoughtful men whose primary concern was to have a country in which God’s rule prevailed.  Their public personae was of persons who desired to follow God’s law, the Torah, to the nth degree.  They only sought this same level of righteousness for others as well.  They fervently believed that if all would follow God’s law that not only would their society be successful above all others, but that the Kingdom of God would prevail.  These men would make good neighbors: no loud parties, keep the yards mowed and the flower beds weeded.  They only wanted a good and moral society to live in, did they not?
We know how they felt, do we not?  We see so many changes in morality and so many divergent “lifestyles” that there can rise up in us a desire to set the world straight.  Let’s not kid ourselves — these emotions run deep within all of us.  We are all just a few steps away from joining vendetta groups to bring “sinners” to Jesus for correction and edification in morals.  We are all at times on the verge of taking up stones and bringing the judgment of God (or so we say) on others.
I believe there was an underlying issue which was only tangentially connected with this woman.  These men were afraid — and fear does strange things to us.  They feared they were losing control over their society.  They feared the Roman reaction if this rabble-rousing-rabbi from Nazareth kept preaching his “good news.”  Already his popularity was rising and they feared that he might lead a rebellion that would bring the Roman boot down upon their neck.  Fear does strange things to us — it moves us in ways and down paths we would otherwise never go.
The conundrum that faced Jesus is simple: the Torah (in Deuteronomy) called for the stoning of those who committed adultery.  Roman law prohibited the Jews from carrying out capital punishment of any kind without Roman permission.  If Jesus had said that she should be stoned, then the Romans would have arrested him.  If Jesus had said that she should go free—then he would have been discredited in the eyes of the Jewish faithful.  After all, adultery was one of the Ten Commandments — #7  I believe.  
Years ago as I read this episode more closely a question jumped out at me:  Where is the man?  The last time I checked it takes two to commit adultery.  Why have they only brought a woman?  These men have displayed their hand by bringing only the woman. Was she a married woman caught having sex with a unmarried man?  Probably, but doesn’t that still make both guilty?  Had they set her up with a man solely for the purpose of challenging Jesus? Stone throwers often act in haste rather than thinking through all the ramifications of their actions.
Equally appalling is not so much the issue raised, but the manner of its raising.  These men had not one thought about the dignity or worth of this woman.  In their eyes she was not a woman, but an adulteress who forfeited her right to live upon committing this sin.  They thought of her in terms of adjectives, not nouns.
Jesus knew the difference between adjectives and nouns.  As humans we are never adjectives — they only describe the perception of others.  Yes, this woman was guilty of adultery; but first and foremost she was a woman, a person created in the image of God of worth and value.  When we place adjectives on a person — black, white, Latino, disabled, dishonest, stern, etc., we change the terms of their existence and we have no right to do that.  Jesus saw people apart from descriptors; he saw them as children of God — no more and no less.  Stone throwers confuse adjectives and nouns, because it is easier to kill another if they are less than human.
Jesus’ response to both the men and the woman is truly remarkable.  Initially he says nothing to the crowd, but just kneels down and begins to write in the sand.  There have been all matter of suggestions as to what he wrote —  but we really do not know.  Did he start writing the list of their sins?  Did he write the ten Hebrew letters that summarize the Ten Commandments?  By his refusal to speak to them Jesus indicates that he is not interested in their Wild West lynch mob form of justice, in joining their Sacred Society.  Jesus ignores them and in so doing indicates that he will have nothing to do with their vigilantism.  
However, these leaders will not let this rest; they push the matter so that Jesus finally utters those well-known words: “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”  You could have dropped an atom bomb in their midst and it would not have had this much effect.  In that second Jesus shifted the focus from her sin to theirs, from her failure to their failures.  Subconsciously they were projecting their shadow side onto her; she was their scapegoat. If they could punish her then they would also remove their sin.  Jesus would not let them do that.  Each must confess his/her own sin — then and today.
We really don’t want to talk much about our sin—do we?  Sin is what other people do—not what we do.  Soren Kierkegaard said that “Sin is either trying to be more than we should be, arrogance or less than we should be, laziness.” Either way we are guilty of falling short of who God has created us to be.
We’re not talking about innocence here — either with the woman, the leaders, or with us.  Life is not a matter of innocence — we are all guilty at some level and we know it whether we will admit it or not.  Confess it we must…for the person who will not confess socio-pathological.  Each and all of us are guilty at one level or another.  Jesus hits them squarely on the nail of universal guilt.  We are all guilty.
The reaction of the crowd is priceless.  One by one they leave, from the oldest to the youngest.  The oldest left first, for they knew well the truth of which Jesus spoke.  Age does that to us; it enables us to see our imperfections so much better than when we are young.  I guess that is why grandparents tend to be so much more lenient than parents; they know well that life is not a game of perfect but of falling down and getting up, falling down and getting up.  When we are young we strive to have the perfect job, the perfect spouse, the perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect car, the perfect career—and so on.  By the time we reach middle age we know that there is no such thing as perfect — and that really is o.k.  
Jesus kneels and writes again — until the entire crowd is left.  Rising up Jesus questions her concerning her accusers and then gives her those words of grace: “Neither do I condemn you.  Go your way and from now on do not sin again.”  Can we imagine how this woman felt?  Ten minutes earlier she believed her life was over; now not only was she free, she was forgiven. 
Forgiven! How great is the knowledge and feeling that one’s sin is put in the past and is an issue no more.  As far as the east is from the West, so far has God removed our transgressions from us” is how the Psalmist describes it.  Forgiveness is simply giving a person a second chance on the same terms as the first. 
Have you ever heard of the disease of scleroderma?  It is a gradual hardening of the soft tissue, both inside and outside our bodies.  Unnoticed at first — usually mistaken for aging or some other normal deterioration of our fine motor skills, eventually we realize that something more is going on. 
As horrific as scleroderma is, even more horrendous is spiritual scleroderma, because it not only hardens our heart toward others, it hardens our heart toward the Spirit. When we are unable to feel the reality of our sin and our need for forgiveness, then we know our heart is ossifying — spiritual scleroderma is at work.  When we no longer feel the need to worship, to seek God and know God’s Spirit in our lives — then spiritual scleroderma is at work.  The more it works, the more self-righteousness we become. The more ossified our heart the less compassion and understanding we exhibit for others who fail.  
These religious leaders knew about God’s mercy and forgiveness, but they felt no need for it — their hearts were ossified beyond measure.  This hardening process occurs so subtlety and quietly that we do not notice it until we are well down the path of legalism and judgmentalism.  If we do not see our own need of forgiveness we will never be able to fully forgive others, no matter how much Bible we may quote or theology we may spout.  Could it be that what God really wants in a church is to be a place where forgiveness can be had…no matter what?  Could it be that all else in Christianity is really secondary to forgiveness and grace?  
In Spain a father and son had a falling out and the son said some very harsh and cruel words, leaving the house and swearing to never return.  His father, who loved him deeply, set off to find him. He searched and he searched for months on end, but to no avail. Finally, in one last desperate effort to find him, the father put an ad in the Madrid Newspaper. The ad read: “Dear Paco, please meet me in front of the newspaper office at noon on Saturday. All is forgiven; I love you, Your Father.”  It is said, that on that Saturday, eight-hundred men named Paco showed up, looking for forgiveness and love from their fathers.
What about us?  Do we have unfinished business with family and friends?  Is there forgiveness that needs to be offered, to be requested, to be given?  
“Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?   She said, ‘No one, sir.’  And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you.  Go your way and from now on do not sin again.’”
Amen.


August 23rd, 2015

Sunday, July 5, 2015

7-5-15

The Emerywood Pulpit
“Confessions of a Repentant Southerner…”
Luke 10: 25-37
Week before last, on June 25th, our national somnambulance was once again shattered by the bullets of a deranged gunman.  This time, however, it was in our own beloved Carolinas — Charleston, South Carolina — to be exact.  The details we know all too well — they are ever with us.  On that fateful Wednesday evening twelve African-Americans were engaged in a Bible Study of Jesus’ parable of the “Sower and the Soils” when a young, white male, Dylann Storm Roof, entered the room.  After speaking with them for over an hour, he pulled out a pistol and started firing.  Nine of the twelve were brutally murdered — he reloaded at least twice — and then he calmly left the church and the premises.  He was captured the next day in North Carolina and presumably has seen the last freedom he will ever know.
Once again our nation has been turned upside down as the issues of race and gun violence have raised their ugly heads.  I will leave the issue of gun violence for another day.  My concern this morning is with the underlying racism that drove him to such lengths.  Mr. Roof not only displayed racist photographs and videos on the web, he even told his victims that he was killing them as an act of racial revenge.  “I wanted to start a race war” is what he is said to have told the police and justice officials.
Racism is the proverbial ball and chain around our leg as a nation — and particularly as a region.  No matter how hard we try we just cannot seem to be set free.  As a native of the Deep South for most of my early years — New Orleans, La. by birth and Alabamian by residence — and then in the South for most of the remaining years, I have lived with racism, both open and hidden, my entire life.  (To be honest, I also lived in Portland, Oregon and there encountered racism just as in the South.)  Racism is not limited to our beloved South, though it certainly has its tentacles deep in our red clay soil.  However, it is here — and we can no longer ignore it.
For decades racism was socially and culturally acceptable.  In my youth I knew otherwise “good people” who used the “n” word just as any other word; their excuse was simple — “that’s what you called those people.”  However, I must say that we were never allowed to say the “n” word in my home of origin, nor have I ever allowed it to be said in my presence without challenge. 
As a Southerner I have heard incredible rationalizations as to why racism and bigotry were ordained of God.  I have witnessed systemic racism bury itself within the fabric of our culture and work its dirty business unseen and unknown.  If America is ever to live up to its calling as a bastion of freedom and liberty, then we must do our due diligence to recognize incipient racism in all its manifestations; we must work together to eradicate every last remnant of publicly acceptable racism. 
What does it mean to be a racist?  Most of us do not consider ourselves to be overtly racist, and for the most part we are not.  We do not hate another person because of the color of their skin, the texture of their hair, the slant of their eyes or any other physical characteristic.  However, not being overtly racist does not comprise the totality of racism — it is only one expression of racism.  Racism is the preference for persons of our own tribe. PLU’s is the commonly acceptable acronym:  “People Like Us.”  To be sure, racial tribalism or cultural “clannishness” is a common, human, cultural trait but that does not mean that it is of Christ.  Just because something seems to be hardwired into our cultural DNA does not justify it one iota.
There is a deeper aspect of our racial preference that we do not always identify.  Racism involves the tendency to “see” another racial group in terms of the worst characteristics of the worst members of that group.  Simultaneously, racism sees ourselves and our group in terms of the best members of our group.  For instance, in my youth in the deep I was told (by persons other than my parents) that all blacks were lazy, shiftless, irresponsible, dishonest and uneducable.  Obviously that was not and is not the case, but it was convenient for our white majority to think thusly as it gave justification for discrimination, Jim Crow laws, etc.  Central to this subconscious racism was the development of “slang” terms for persons of other races, terms which insidiously move us toward seeing the other as beneath us, or less than human. Wop, Chink, Spic, Dago — the “n” word…these are just a few of the terms we use which dehumanize another.  These are not just innocent slang terms, but epithets which devalue and degrade a fellow human who also bears the image of God.
Why do we act in this manner?  Simply put, as humans we live with a certain level of residual inferiority, the belief that, at bottom, we are not good enough.  One of the ways for us to it is a way for us to justify/feel good about ourselves is to denigrate the other as less than human.  You may object that what we see in racists is a “superiority,” but we know that such arrogance is really a covering for deep “inferiority.”  As humans we are driven by fear much more than we are compelled by our faith.  Racism, at its core, is fear based — as it all evil.
This is seen quite clearly in the Confederate Flag controversy.  For the most part, those who wave or display the Confederate battle flag are white people for whom life has been at best a struggle.  Economically they are on the bottom rung — or close to it.  Educationally they are usually there as well — those often go hand in hand.  For them this flag is a symbol of their defiance of a governmental system which they believe works against them and for others, particularly African-Americans.  In the early years of the 20th century poor whites and poor blacks often had the same economic struggles.  The sole comfort for these poor whites was that “At least I’m not black.”  Now, as education has offered persons of all races opportunities to grow and develop, the anger and frustration of these who occupy the lower socio-economic rungs has focused on a flag as their symbol and on race as their enemy.  These may claim it is heritage and not hate, but rarely is that the case — and we know it.  For those who want to fly this flag I have only one question: given its history as the symbol of the Lost Cause — of a racially motivated rebellion against our country — would Jesus fly this flag?  
Racism is subtle, rarely presenting itself as evil.  Rather, racism, like all sin, masks itself as that which is good.  Many of those who owned slaves or later  perpetuated racism in our culture did not necessarily consider themselves to be “evil persons.”  Many were active in churches, worshipped God, loved Jesus and sought to share what they understood as the gospel, as truncated as their version may have been.  They were people who were doing what they thought to be right in order to “preserve their way of life,” which they assumed to be ordained of God.  
The specific translation used this morning is one by Clarence Jordan called “The Cotton Patch Bible.”  He translated most of the New Testament into the language of the South and in so doing personalized these stories and teachings for us.  Here we have the familiar story of “The Good Samaritan.”  What is shocking about that story is that the usual “good guys,” the persons Jesus’ listeners assumed would stop and help, did not.  Their fellow Israelites crossed over and went on by, even after seeing this one in distress.  When Jesus said that the one who stopped and helped was a “Samaritan,” I can imagine that you would have heard the proverbial pin drop.  This was the last person any Jew expected to stop or wanted to stop.  Samaritans were half-breeds, the result of “inter-racial” families from the days of the Babylonian Exile.  No self-respecting Jew would ever say anything good about a Samaritan.  Yet, Jesus does, because Jesus wants to show his questioner just what it means to be a person of God.  
Salvation (the original question posed) for Jesus is not about keeping the law, but about loving one’s neighbor, i.e., for Jesus the neighbor being the one whose need presents itself to me. Further, by making the neighbor a Samaritan — or in our cultural node a black man — Jesus shatters all our pretensions about our goodness and righteousness.  
To grow up in the South is to grow up as a conflicted person: loving the people and heritage of which we are apart, yet feeling quite deep shame at the entrenched racism of our past and present. A prime example of this is one of my personal heroes, General Robert E. Lee.  As a son of the South I always felt badly that we fought the Civil War, much less that we lost it.  I became a history major — and in particular a Southern history major — due to my desire to understand more and more about this region of my birth.  General Lee was the salvation for most of the South, particularly the more educated Southerners.  He was the classic figure of a Southern gentleman in every way, not to mention that he was an incredibly good general (other than at Gettysburg where his vanity and pride overran his wisdom.)  Yet, in reality he was a slaveholder and a traitor to his country.  He violated his own oath, taken at his induction as an officer in the US Army, to never take up arms against his own country.  Yes, he stipulated in his will that his slaves should be freed upon his death — but he allowed his wife to keep what she needed until her death.  As I have studied his life through the years I have come to see that he is, at best, a flawed hero.
In the South (and nationally) we have used up all the cliches and metaphors possible to explain away what is really residual racism.  Here we are in 2015 and we still send each other racist emails as supposed “jokes.”  When I replied to some of these with the statement that these were un-Christlike, I was quickly deleted from some lists, and gratefully so.  Who wants a spoil-sport pointing out our racism to us?  We live by the myth that we’re not racist anymore, yet it refuses to go away.  When fraternities on college don blackface for parties we know that racism lingers deep within.  
Last year a pastor and good friend of mine married his daughter to a man whom he said was one of the finest young men he knew.  What was unusual about this was that she married an African-American man.  I saw the pictures and I thought, “How would I respond if I had a daughter who did this?  How would I have responded if one of my sons had married a girl of another race?  Would I be as loving and accepting as my friend?”
Jesus Christ came to set us free — and part of that freedom is to be free from the constraints of racism which is anti-God, anti-Christ and sinful in all its manifestations.  If we cannot see all persons as created in the image of God…if the color of skin or ethnic background keeps us from seeing them in the love that flows from God, then we are living in sin and are in need of the grace of God.  To participate in or acquiesce to any manner of racism — whether in jest or in seriousness — is to participate in sin and evil.
Are we racists?  Not really…not in the angry, vengeful way.  Would we ever think of putting another person down for their race or making crude comments about another over their racial characteristics?  I don’t believe so.  Why, we even welcome people of other races when they attend!
Yet, I must confess that as a proclaimer of the gospel for now 40 years, I have failed my congregations.  I have failed to help us see that racism needs to be confronted and eradicated whenever possible.  I have allowed us to be comfortable with our congregations being 99.9% white and thinking that this reflects the Body of Christ.  I have allowed us to look the other way when racial issues came to the fore in our community and nation.  I have been at ease in Zion, at peace with a culture that is not close to the Kingdom of God.
Why did I not focus on this residual sin that will not go away?  Because it is too close to home, that’s why.  Because when we start preaching and teaching about this sin, church people get uncomfortable and say things like, “We’re just not spiritual anymore.”  Why, they may even go to another church if I say too much about it.  So, I just throw it out there once in a while in a sermon, but never in a challenging or confrontative fashion.  This is why I say that I have failed you.  I have let you think that our congregational life as we know it is pleasing to God, when in reality it is anything but.
So, what can we do?
 Confess our sin to God and ask for forgiveness.  Confess not only our individual sin, but our cultural sin.  Ask God to forgive us for tolerating theological heresy and sin and accepting them as normative.
Develop a primary value which says that all persons are created in the image of God and as such deserve to be treated with dignity, acceptance, respect and love, regardless of how they treat us in return.  Until we get our values right, our lives will never be right.
Do not be a party to or go along with racism in any shape or form.  Challenge racists statements when made in our presence.  Refuse to laugh at or be party to racist statements or jokes of any kind.  If someone had confronted Dylann Roof we might never have known of a “Charleston Nine.”
 Ask God to use us to not only combat racism, but to be integral in working for and building up a community of faith which goes beyond racial and ethnic identities.  To this end we need to intentionally seek to make friends across racial lines.  Develop fellowship meals and “Dinners for 8” with persons of other races and ethnicities.  Have conversations with persons of other races about their experiences; seek to understand what transpires in their lives.  
Can we do this?  Yes, but it will take the grace and power of God, for we cannot do it on our own; we are too weak. Tuesday evening I attended the “Community in Unity” service at St. Stephen’s AME Church.  There was a decent but not great attendance — about 125 or so.  The music was wonderful, the preaching was great.  However, I was blown away by the Rev. Kinston Jones, a young African-American minister who organized the service.  In his remarks he said: “A lot has been said about the Charleston Nine, but not much about the One.  I want us to pray for Dylann Roof, for the salvation of his soul, that he might turn to Christ and know forgiveness and healing.”  Then he proceeded to do just that — to pray for the perpetrator of these horrendous murders.  How do you do that?  How do you pray that prayer when that man has just stated that he wanted to start a war so that all black people would be killed?
You can do that when your heart is surrendered to God in Jesus Christ, when your primary motivation and purpose is not self, but allowing God to love others through you.  Years ago there was a man named John Newton whose life was characterized by rebellion and chaos.  He worked aboard a British Naval vessel, but rebelled against the discipline and deserted.  He was captured, put in irons and flogged.  He later convinced the captain to discharge him to a slaving vessel.  Later while at sea he went through a tremendous storm and feared for his life.  Providentially someone had given him Thomas A’ Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ.  In the bowels of that ship he prayed and asked God to save him.  Later he worked on a slaving ship, knowing that what they were doing was wrong, but hoping through his presence to curb its excesses.  Some forty years passed (1787) during which time he grew in his faith and became a minister of the gospel — he had long since left the seas.  It was then wrote Thoughts Upon the African Slave Trade for the express purpose of helping his friend and member of Parliament, William Wilberforce in his campaign to outlaw the slave trade and slavery in the British Empire.  Ultimately they were successful.
During his time as minister he led a Thursday evening prayer service.  Almost every week he wrote a hymn for that service — 280 to be exact.  It was in this stage of life that he penned the hymn for which he is most well-known: Amazing Grace.  In his old age, when it was suggested that the increasingly feeble Newton retire, he replied, "I cannot stop. What? Shall the old African blasphemer stop while he can speak?”
Amazing grace…how sweet the sound…can we sing that song knowing that it is only by grace that any of us are acceptable?  Can we sing that song knowing that as we have received grace, so we are to extend grace…to all God’s children?  As I sing this song today I am singing it in repentance, asking God to forgive me for not being more bold and true to the gospel I know and love.  “Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far…and grace will see me home.”
Amen.
Robert U. Ferguson, Jr., Ph.d.
Emerywood Baptist Church
1300 Country Club Drive
High Point, North Carolina 27262
July 5th, 2015

Monday, June 1, 2015

5/3/2015

“An Offer We Ought Not Refuse...”
Matthew 22: 1-14
Did we hear all these preparations being made? Oxen and fattened calves were killed...I imagine tents erected, food prepared, musicians hired...hotel rooms reserved...rabbi on stand-bye. We mere mortals cannot imagine what a wedding banquet such as this would cost. Or, maybe we could. According to Business Insider, to make the list of the 12 most expensive weddings in recent history you had to spend at least 1.5 million. The most expensive was Prince Charles and Diana — $48 million in 1981 or $110 million in today’s money. If we wish to look at someone who spent their own money and not that of a nation-state, we could consider second place: Vanisha Mittal and Amit Bhatia of India. The bill was $60 million in 2005, or $66 million when adjusted for inflation.1
To be sure this wedding portrayed in our text was the event of the year, probably of the decade, and maybe even of the century in Palestine. Obviously they sent out “save the date” invitations six months earlier; then the King sent his servants to personally bring the invitees to the banquet.  

This reminds me of the couple who spent $900,000 flying 500 guests to the wedding on private jets. What more could one do to ensure that his son had a proper wedding?


For some unknown reason the invitees refused to come. The King could not believe it. He was enraged; none dare refuse the offer of a King to come to a wedding banquet. (This is like the statement from the Godfather movies: “I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse!”) So, being the “nice guy” that the King was, he sent more servants to explain that everything was ready and issue one more invitation. Surely they would now come. Yet again not only did they refuse, the invitees mocked the servants, even seizing and killing them. How’s that for saying “No thanks!”

The King’s blood was running hot...fiery hot. I can just hear him now: “Those no-good, unworthy so and so’s...I’ll show them what happens when you turn me down.” He sends his soldiers to kill those who rejected his offer and then he has them burn down the town. Literally...burn down the town. I can only imagine how fast word must have spread throughout the region: “If this King invites you, you best show up...you don’t want to refuse this offer.”

But now the King has a serious problem: who will be the guests at his son’s banquet? He just killed off the primary guest list; where can you find more friends with whom to party at this late hour? Where else but the streets? So, he tells his servants (the one’s who are left): “Go out on the streets and invite anyone and everyone to come to the party...rich, poor, good or bad...regardless of creed or ethnicity... bring them all in so we can celebrate and party.”

So they do — and what a party it must have been. I am sure that it got a little rowdy; after all these were not the “country club clientele” who were now gracing the dance floor, eating caviar or drinking champagne. No, these were the people who knew how to get down with it...they had more in common with the servants and the band than with the King. They might have even talked the band into playing country music or at least some good old South Carolina shag!

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Just when you think that you have seen it all, the King surprises everyone. He notices a man enjoying himself who does not have on the proper garb — he is not wearing his wedding garment (translation — tuxedo or at least dark suit.) Anyone knows that when you come to a wedding after 6:00pm you have to wear a tux. However, not our friend...he’s there in blue jeans, tee shirt and flip flops just having a good old time. The King challenges him: “How did you get in here without the proper clothes?” Our friend is so stunned that he cannot answer...he just stares speechless at the floor...thinking to himself: “Is there a dress code? Did I miss something?” Then the King utters these words that echo across the room and down the corridors: “Throw him out and let him go to hell. For many are called, but few are chosen.”

Do you think the party ended shortly thereafter? I sure do. I can see the guests heading for exits, tuxedos or not, for this King is not one with whom one can trifle. When he invites you, you best come — and dressed to the nines as well.

OK — I can see you are all just as puzzled as me at this parable. After wrestling with it this week I was so glad that it is not an allegory, where every part reflects some area of life. (The portrayal of God as the King, for instance, is not one with which I am comfortable.

What is important here are not the details per se, but the fact of God’s great invitation to us all to the banquet of celebration in the Kingdom of God. Jewish weddings were great affairs which often lasted a week or more. The contract/proposal was agreed upon by the parents; then the bridegroom would show up, often unexpectedly, at his bride’s home to take here to his home where the feast would be prepared. After this word would go out to the guests, the party would start and the guests would come from all around. To refuse the invitation would be to shame the King, the giver of the party; no one in their right mind would do that. Would they? Would we?

Let’s bring this home a bit. What about us? We’ve all been given an invitation to the celebration of life and life eternal. This is an invitation to a life in Christ that begins now and never ends. To say yes to the invitation is to accept this incredible invitation to live in relationship with God through Jesus Christ. When we say yes to Christ we say yes, we will be at this party which begins now and never ends.

What about those who refuse? Jesus is telling us a strange truth: all are invited, but not all accept. “Many are called, but few are chosen.” For whatever reasons there are those who refuse to join the party. Oh, they want to hear the band...some will even stand outside and listen. But commit to the party — no way.

Far too often we who claim to follow Christ are guilty of a hollow commitment, an insincere “yes” to the “save the date” but a “no” when the date comes. Yes, we will follow Christ; no, not right now — its’ just not convenient. Yes, we would love to come be a part of a celebration; no, I’ve other things to do. Saying yes...but then no — is to say no, is it not? If you go back one chapter to Matthew 21: 28-33 Jesus tells the parable about the two sons — one whom said yes and did not go and the other said no but went. The doing of the will of God, it seems, is not in the verbal reply, but is found in our actions, in the obedience of our life. Do we really show up at the banquet, properly attired and ready for action?

What about these who killed the servants? Jesus talks straight to the Jewish leaders who have rejected the prophets and even Jesus, and they know it. He says to them, “Not only have you refused to come to the party...you have even killed the messengers of God who brought the invitation. Now, since you refuse to come, not only will you perish outside the Kingdom, I will invite and and all who will to come.”

This parable comes at a vital time in the life of Jesus: Wednesday of Holy Week. This is the day of controversy, the day when push comes to shove and the confrontations between Jesus and the Jewish leaders are coming to a head. Immediately following this parable Matthew tells us that these leaders try to trap Jesus into betraying his hand by demanding to know whether they should pay taxes to Rome. Yes, the journey of Jesus is approaching that climatic moment.

Before we get too far down this road, let’s take a minute and look that those whom Jesus is saying rejected the invitation. They would have been most surprised, for they would have said that they accepted the invitation. After all, they were “good, God-fearing people who loved God, obeyed the Torah (mostly) and just knew that they were ‘God’s people.’” How did they reject the invitation? They rejected the invitation when they refused to listen to the prophets who sought to bring correction to their life, particularly in the areas of social and economic justice. They rejected the invitation when they made religion a matter of private practice/relationship and not applicable to societal structures or to social moral and ethical issues. They rejected the invitation when they ostracized, imprisoned, and/or ignored the prophets/messengers for speaking to these very issues.

All my ministry I have heard the mantra over and over again: “Following Jesus is about going to heaven when you die and not about those social issues you keep talking about!” Nothing could be further from the truth. “Going to heaven when we die” and working to align our social structures/lifestyles with the biblical witness are one and the same — the result of a life of full and complete surrender to Jesus the Christ. The gospel of Jesus is about the in-breaking, the coming of the Kingdom of God in this world. The gospel of Jesus is about us working together to establish communities where the justice and economics of the Kingdom are practiced. This gospel is about realizing that in this Kingdom we come alive with one another and with Christ in such a way that life, even when it is difficult, becomes a banquet, a celebration of life under God. Working for social and economic justice? Not a problem when you’re a part of the wedding banquet...not a problem when you’ve read the prophets and heard their message in the depths of one’s soul.

But — what about our guest who gets evicted for not wearing a tuxedo? Can we get in and get thrown out? In Palestine a good host not only invited you to the wedding, he provided you with a proper wedding garment. When you arrived you were given the garment to put on as you entered the party. To not have on the proper garment is simply a matter that this one, like the earlier invitees, refused the gracious invitation of the King and wanted to enter on his own terms. Wearing one’s own clothes, in this parable, was like believing that salvation could come by one’s own merits, one’s own righteousness. Just as entry into the banquet was by the grace of the King — and our acceptance of that grace, so entry into the Kingdom of God is by grace and grace alone. We don’t get into the Kingdom on our own merits...and we don’t stay in the Kingdom by those either.

We live in a culture where we all expect to live full and complete lives — and go to heaven when we die. Even for those who never grace a church or work to build the Kingdom, we still have that

subconscious, cultural thread: “they were good people and they surely will be in heaven...right, Preacher?” Maybe, maybe not? Maybe how we live and the faith we live out are of vital importance? Maybe, just maybe, saying yes to the invitation and living out the values of the Kingdom are of first hand importance. Maybe, just maybe not all “good people” go to heaven?

Can we recall these earlier words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 7? (I think Matthew was giving us early warning...)
“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.’ 2

So...have you had any good wedding banquet invitations lately? Might we ought to pay attention to them? Have we said yes to the invitation that came to us? When will we?

1 http://www.businessinsider.com/most-expensive-weddings-2010-7?op=1#ixzz3bLWgFZEj 2 Matthew 7: 21-23
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