humility

Sunday’s Sermon – Starry-Eyed – Galatians 3:23-29 – Scriptures and Seuss

July 28, 2019 Leave a Comment

This July, our summer sermon series pairs Scripture texts with well-known and loved books by Dr. Seuss as modern parables to deepen our exploration of faith in the world together. This week our Dr. Seuss classic is The Sneetches.

Last week for Heritage Plays, 23 of us met up at Suntrust Park to enjoy a baseball game. Matt, Andrew, and I got to the stadium just before the game began. A few steps past the gate, I began to notice fans carrying the kids giveaway for the night: a Braves backpack. They were no longer giving them away at the gate, and I wasn’t surprised, assuming we’d missed it. But, just in case, I talked Matt into letting me walk towards another gate to see if they still had any. He convinced me that was a fool’s errand, so we began to head toward our section. But I kept seeing people with these backpacks. More and more of them. I even saw one of the employees holding two of them, so I asked him if perhaps I could have one (he told me, “no” – he was holding them for some other fans in a reserved seating area). Every time I saw someone with a backpack, something poked at me inside. I wanted one. I noticed they weren’t even the totally cheap-o ones either. And everyone seemed to have them. More and more. Like they were giving them away nearby even. My internal monologue was getting a little ridiculous as I looked around. I begrudgingly followed Matt back up the stairs, and then, right by the gate where we had entered, I noticed something. Everyone had a backpack. I looked again. There were a few stacks of them, and employees giving them away. I walked over, prepared to persuade with my very cute infant. Before I could get out a sentence, one was in my hand and I was saying “Thank you!”

Now, I don’t need this backpack. In the words of my wise husband, we don’t need this backpack. Another backpack. Even if it does have an “a” on it and a place for water bottles. And he’s right. But my sense of jealousy at what others were carrying around, and my pride at having one of my own in my hands was palpable. Probably in ways beyond what it should be. All for a “free” giveaway at a ball game.

Sometimes, we get caught up in wanting what other people have, don’t we? There was a cartoon devoted to this idea, illustrated by Arthur R. “Pop” Momand, it ran in The New York World and other papers from 1913 until 1940. It featured a couple, the McGinis family, who were social climbers and struggled to “keep up” with their neighbors, unseen characters who never appeared in any comic, named “The Joneses.” This is one theory on where we get that idiomatic expression, “keeping up with the Joneses”[i]. Whether it’s out of a sense of keeping up with the Joneses (or Kardashians, or anyone else), we tend to pay attention to what others around us have. We are jealous of the newest phone or latest model of car; we wish our haircut would look half as good as hers, or that we had half the hair that he does. And we play a comparison game: we wish our haircut would look half as good as hers, or that we had half the hair that he does. And you know, we do this at church too. We notice that their cookies don’t look misshapen and burnt at the potluck; we see that they not only attend worship each week, but also go to Sunday School and volunteer at the food pantry; we stand for a hymn and realize that while we can’t carry a tune in a bucket, they are singing notes we can’t even read in beautiful harmony. It seems, no matter where we fall on some social ladder, we look at those around us and it seems they have it more together than we do, and we are jealous. And while a lot of times this becomes about material possessions, the “stuff” in our lives and our ability to get our hands on it, the root of the issue is not so much the stuff, but our obsession with who is “in” and who is “out,” and our ego’s deep need to be “in.”

The early church also struggled with this question. Following the radical whirlwind that was Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, Christ-followers and new believers set out to figure out what it meant to be the church. We see glimpses of it in the gospels, but the real meat of their predicaments (pun intended) is found in the book of Acts and the epistles. One of the central questions? What it meant to reconcile a new faith community that included both Jews and Gentiles. These were not small questions, either. Mark Douglas notes that:

How much like a Jew does a Gentile need to be in order to be a Christian? . . . is the central moral question for the early church because it is a deeply theological question. God made promises to Abraham and Abraham’s heirs. Gentiles are not natural heirs. So how do God’s promises apply? If the promises apply to Gentiles, God seemingly treats Israel in an arbitrary way. If they apply to Jews, then how does the crucified Jesus matter to Jews? . . . On the one hand, the new church could worship a God who is willing to break promises – but that will take them away from their claim that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. On the other hand, they can pursue a vision of the continuing faithfulness of God’s promises to Abraham – which seemingly excludes Gentiles and makes the new gospel of the crucified Lord irrelevant to Jews[ii].

Imagine, if you will, that the early Christians, those Jews who believed that Christ was the Messiah, were like the Sneetches with stars on their bellies. They had their rhythms and routines figured out, and stuck together. They were the chosen ones, set apart. They’re not too keen on anyone else joining what they have. Or maybe they’d be willing to accept newcomers, as long as they began to look and act just like them.

James Kemp offers:

This story is rich with social commentary about how fallen human beings search for ways to make divisions among themselves. It also makes a statement about those who have a vested interest in keeping people divided and at war because they can sell their products to both sides[iii].

If we follow Seuss’s story, it’s pretty clear that the truth of the matter is we like to be set apart and special, and don’t like when things disrupt that status quo.

But, now, how in the world will we know,” they all frowned,
“if which kind is what, or the other way round?”[iv]

We are so quick to provide those answers, aren’t we? And we’re willing to go to some pretty extraordinary, and expensive, lengths to keep things the way they are. Instead of being focused on what unites us, we too-often become “starry-eyed” and obsessed with those things that may or may not set us apart and certainly divide us.

I think that’s because, at the heart of it, we are afraid that we aren’t enough, and so we let our fear drive us to put others down so we won’t feel like we’re on the bottom. One of my favorite devotional sites, d365.org, begins with a thought-provoking “pause” each day. The theme this week was “fear less,” and began with these words, which I think challenge the “starry-eyed” parts of us:

            Our world appears to thrive and profit from our fear –
            Fear of those different from us,
            Fear of insignificance and isolation,
            Fear that our secret shames might come to light.
            Could there be another way to live?
            Is it possible to fear less?[v]

The early church was living in a time of fear, when everything in their world, religiously and secularly, were shifting in dramatic ways. For a community set up against the challenging context of the Roman Empire, the Galatians had to rethink both their theology and their politics as those from the secular world became a part of their faith, or of some new faith that was emerging. All of a sudden, the church was full of people juggling multiple, and often conflicting, identities, with different understandings about things like what to eat, and what do with their bodies (i.e. circumcision). Paul spends a lot of time sorting out what no doubt were long lists of contentious questions about how things were supposed to work, rooted in a sense of the early church wanting to remain special, starred, rather than invite everyone in.

Our text for today is the high point of Paul’s letter. You get the sense that he is at a point of exasperation, following detailed conversation about nuances of the law. It’s as if he throws his pen across the room, and grabs his hair screaming at them for their obsession with the details. “GROW UP!” he might have shouted, noting that their quest for who is “in” and who is “out” was like teenage girl cliques or childhood clubhouses. They can’t see the forest for the trees. Or, quite literally, I wonder if Paul adopted the phrase that I have started using when I get in the weeds of minutia myself in ministry, “Jesus Christ did not die for this.” So Paul comes back to the central point of the gospel: that in Christ, God was doing a new thing. A new family has been formed, one that breaks down every boundary imaginable. Social distinctions are obliterated.

Paul says that Christ alone matters: Christ our unity, Christ our focus, Christ the line of energy along which relationships run, Christ the beginning and the end, Christ the cause for which we live, Christ from which nothing can take us, not even death – especially not death[vi].

Paul writes:

Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus
Christ[vii].

Dr. Seuss says:

Sneetches are Sneetches and no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches. That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars and whether they had one, or not, upon thars[viii].

This is a vision for the church of the future; to truly be one in Christ Jesus.
Proclaiming and celebrating unity in the church means learning from our differences instead of allowing them to divide us. It means encouraging others and not boasting about our own accomplishments. It means courting a spirit of gratitude instead of pride. It means that we cannot separate love for God from love for one another[ix].

Living this way is not just for Christians or the church exclusively. This is the approach to community that should be our goal; to recognize that people are people, and that every. single. person. in this world is a beloved child of God. That doesn’t mean that we don’t notice our differences. Indeed, that’s also dangerous and detrimental. We don’t need to ignore the things that make us distinct. But we shouldn’t let those things that make us different be what drives us apart. Why? Because the God who created us, the Savior who died for us, and the Spirit who both scatters and gathers us together, is so much bigger than that.

And because we are brought together in the one who is indeed that big, we need not be afraid of anything; not those things that make us different from each other, not those forces in the world that are pushing against us, not the thing that keeps us up at night, or is that we can’t even bring ourselves to say, not even death itself. So maybe, just maybe, we can be as smart as the Sneetches, and recognize that there are McBean’s all around us, seeking to divide us and make money off of our fear, but that, in the end, it doesn’t matter if we have stars on our bellies or not. Realizing that is realizing God’s overwhelming grace. A grace so powerful that it allows us to step out of the relentless lines going in and out, and instead embrace a new reality and identity as children of God. Together. For in Christ Jesus, we are indeed one. May we be smart enough to realize this is the truth, and go and live like it. Amen.

~sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 28, 2019

____________________________________________________________________________________________

[i] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keeping_up_with_the_Joneses
[ii] Mark Douglas, “Theological Perspective: Galatians 3:23-29,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iii] James W. Kemp, The Gospel According to Dr. Seuss, (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2004)
[iv] Seuss.
[v] “Pause,” www.d365.org, week of July 22-28, 2019, written by Joshua Hays
[vi] Carol E. Holtz-Martin, “Homiletical Perspective: Galatians 3:23-29,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[vii] Galatians 3:28, The Message
[viii] Dr. Seuss, The Sneetches and Other Stories, (New York: Random House, 1961).
[ix] Kemp.

Sunday’s Sermon – Powerless – 2 Corinthians 12:1-10

July 8, 2018 Leave a Comment

Think of a time when your home lost power. In the summertime, these outages are hot, sticky, and frustrating. It disrupts every sense of normalcy we have about our lives, as we work on other arrangements, and mourn the loss of refrigerators and freezers full of food. As we have learned here about our new HVAC system, even a small blip in the power grid can prompt our new unit to shut off to protect the compressor – which is good for the longevity of the system, and less good when you have a hot sanctuary despite things looking like they are running properly on the thermostat. But more than just inconvenient, being without power is so hard because we realize how vulnerable we are to outside factors and sources. To play with the words a bit, we are “power-less,” both literally with the electricity outages, but also in other ways, unable to fully control the situation, forced into waiting it out and hoping for the best. And no one likes to be powerless or weak.

Except maybe the Apostle Paul in today’s New Testament reading. His premise, on the surface, is a little ridiculous – weaknesses, Paul says, are good. In fact, that’s about what he will boast. He even goes so far as to add in the thorn in his side, persecutions and hardships to the list. It doesn’t make much sense, does it? Why on earth would we want to tell others about those places in our lives where we are imperfect? It goes against the very grain of our culture, which tells us to conceal our weaknesses, not boast about them. Focus on our strengths, minimize our shortcomings. Don’t admit when you don’t know the answer, just wing it. “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Nowhere in any of these words of advice are putting our weaknesses on display. After all, that would make us incredibly vulnerable, open to criticism, and frankly, less likely to succeed. Consider taking Paul’s advice on your next job interview. Go in and lay out all of your weaknesses, boast about the skills you lack. Probably won’t get you very far.

So what is Paul getting at? By the time this epistle was written, Paul already had a relationship with the church in Corinth. The church had been through challenges and complications, akin to many of the early churches, struggling with what it meant to live as a community of faith, particularly in circumstances where cultures and habits collided. But rather than focusing on these issues, this letter takes a different turn. Here he spends a lot of time defending his own position as an apostle. There’s a reason for this. Earlier he almost sarcastically mentions some “superapostles” who had been traveling around, teaching and preaching a gospel that differed slightly from Paul’s understanding. From the context of the letter, it seems that these leaders were asserting themselves in ways that Paul was not – from accepting financial support from the Corinthians for their ministry to simply being more charismatic in their visits. Rather than try to go “toe to toe” with these other leaders, Paul chooses another route: to use the perception of him as “wimpy” or “weak” as a strength.

This seems counter-intuitive to most of us. After all, if your authority as a leader is being threatened, why not defend yourself, pad that resume a bit if you have to, so that the church in Corinth will follow you? But Paul’s choice isn’t an oversight in church politics. He is a master rhetorician, and once again pushes his readers into considering something more. To understand it, we have to look more closely at what this weakness about which Paul boasts actually is. Theologian Karl Barth describes it in this way:

what is his weakness? Simply what remains of his Christian existence after it is stripped of the religious experience of which he could boast for good reason and in truth, but that means insults, hardships, persecutions, calamities for Christ’s sake (v. 10). There he sees the power of Christ dwelling in him; there he knows himself to be strong; there is what he boasts about[1].

For Paul, boasting about weakness is an entry point into boasting about God. Rather than taking an “I can do it all myself” attitude, allowing himself to be weak means that he is open to receiving help from someone far more powerful and strong – Jesus Christ. In essence, it is Paul getting out of the way of himself, out of the way of pride, so that God’s strength can be seen more clearly (see verse 9) and the church can get away from power struggles and spend time focusing more on faith development. In this text, he presents humility almost as hyperbole as one way of getting there.

Each week in worship, we follow this pattern as we expose our own weaknesses as Christ’s disciples. It’s called the prayer of confession. In these moments, both silently and together, we admit that we don’t have it all together. Most importantly, we invite God into the midst of our sinful places and ask for forgiveness, healing, and grace. We trust that God’s grace does prevail, that we are forgiven, and in response break out into songs of praise.This is the beautiful image of song revealed in the book of Revelation, and captured in the 19^th century hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,” written by pastor and missionary Reginald Heber for use on Trinity Sunday. In it, all of creation celebrates the eternal power of the God, with voices united in endless praise.

Rather than rely on our own power, which we know to be limited, we rely on God’s, which we know to be infinite. In order to fully understand what God’s love and grace is all about, we have to get out of our own ways. To be “powerless” and “weak,” if you will, like Paul. We must do so with care, for there are some tempting and common traps that we can fall into if we take this boasting in weakness business too far.

First, we can get hung up on our list of weaknesses. Overachievers among us will be tempted to create a long list of imperfections about which to boast. If we have to be weak, we might as well be the best at it, right? In the movie Notting Hill, this activity even becomes a dinner party game, with the person who has the saddest story winning the last brownie in the pan. And it happens in real life, too. You all probably know someone in your life who always has to “one up” any story you tell. Good or bad, this person always seems to have had a life experience that’s just a touch more extreme than your story. If you share, for example, a physical weakness, such as back pain, this individual immediately jumps in with a story about how she threw out her back once, and it was ten times worse than what you had experienced. This is certainly boasting in weakness, but it’s not what Paul is talking about.

For Paul, the boasting is only a means of entry, a way of reminding ourselves who is really in charge in the world – God. So don’t get caught up in naming or proclaiming your weaknesses either. It’s not about you, after all. Instead, get caught up in inviting God into those places in your life. Boasting in weakness means flinging the doors to our weak places open and making space for God to work within us. Because when we get out of our own way, checking pride at the door, we are better able to dwell with Christ in an honest relationship that truly makes us strong.

Second, once we have our laundry list of imperfections, we can fall into the trap of using them as a cop-out for not acting in the world. We can say “oh, I’m weak. I can’t possibly do that. It’s just not in my skill set.” Eventually with this pattern, we wind up not doing anything at all. God doesn’t promise to swoop in where we are weak and just fix things for us. I can’t simply say “I am a really slow runner and tire out quickly,” and then expect the Holy Spirit to do its thing and suddenly help me run a marathon. One of my favorite scenes from the movie Evan Almighty involves God, undercover as a fellow diner at a restaurant, speaking with Evan’s wife. She is lamenting how hard things are sometimes, and is looking for answers that don’t seem to be coming anytime soon. God, portrayed by Morgan Freeman, poses some questions back to her:

If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?[2]

Something similar could be said in the way God works through our weaknesses. When we admit them, does God simply come in and patch things up, or does God give us the opportunity to work on them, promising love and support through the Holy Spirit and through others, so that we can, with God’s help, be made strong? Our strength comes from God, who made heaven and earth, and each one of us in God’s own image. God has promised to continue to strengthen us in all we say and in all we do. God doesn’t promise that it will be easy, doesn’t assure us that we won’t be weak. Rather, God promises to be with us even in our weakness. And I believe God surrounds us with a great cloud of witnesses to help make that possible. Through Christ, we are assured that none of us have to endure hardship alone. Suffering is neither God’s design nor the end result.

Remember Paul’s complaining about the thorn in his side? His begging God to remove it? God’s reply is simple, “my grace is sufficient.” That grace comes from Jesus Christ, who conquers all. By grace, God sent Christ into the world, to walk with us, to strengthen us and show us how to live, to heal us, and most importantly, to save us. Elsewhere Paul writes to the Philippians “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). This is what makes us strong – not anything we do or don’t do, but God’s grace alone. It is a gift, ready and waiting for each one of us, if we can be so bold, so crazy, so ridiculously counter-cultural, to be like Paul and boast in our weaknesses, getting out of our own way so that Christ may dwell more fully within us and work for transformation and reconciliation in our lives and in the world. When we are grounded not in our own egos and agendas but in truly seeking to embody our Savior, it is then where we will find the power and strength to live into our calling as followers of Jesus.

This morning’s hymn doesn’t have a particularly unique story behind it as some of our others have this summer, but it does give voice to Paul’s words about our power coming from Christ and nothing else. “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name” is known as the “National Anthem of Christendom.” It:

first appeared in the November 1779 issue of the Gospel Magazine, edited by August Toplady, who wrote “Rock of Ages.” This text has been translated into almost every language where Christianity is known; and wherever it is sung, it communicates the spiritual needs of human hearts. One writer has said, “So long as there are Christians on earth, it will continue to be sung; and after that, in heaven” [i].

So may we join our voices again with the saints and angels in heaven, giving God all glory, honor, and praise, and proclaiming with our lips the source of all our strength is indeed in Jesus Christ our Lord. Let us sing:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

July 8, 2018

————————————————————————————————————

[1] Karl Barth, On Religion: The Revelation of God as the Sublimination of Religion, trans. Garrett Green (New York: T&T Clark, 2006), 92.

[2] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0413099/quotes

[i]Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2012).

Sunday’s Sermon – Who Taught You That? Matthew 23:1-12

November 5, 2017 Leave a Comment

“Who taught you that?” When it follows an impressive feat or display of skill, such as a delicious home cooked meal, the tone is quite positive and full of admiration. “Who taught you that?” It can also be skeptical, with an eyebrow raised, questioning the accuracy of a teaching or method. Sometimes it comes when a parent discovers a mischievous child’s surprise (good or bad) – then it manifests as humorous denial. Regardless of tones, this question beckons the rest of the story. It invites us into explanation for our actions and to provide rationale for our skills. It’s like putting a citation in a paper for a class. As teachers are known to say, it is important to “give credit where credit is due.”

In today’s text, it seems the scribes and Pharisees were overly anticipating such a question; and they wanted to be the answer. After all, it was their role to teach and instruct the people on God’s will. They are the experts, and have spent countless encounters with Jesus in Matthew’s gospel, quizzing him on his knowledge of scriptures, perhaps trying to corner him into a moment where the second tone of disapproval might raise the question “who taught you that?” Our opening verses indicate that they have gotten so caught up in their status within the community that they merely spout off their knowledge and righteous answers without actually living in a way that reflects them. Here, of course, is where Jesus takes issue. He is quick to call out those who have become lazy in their ivory towers of religious authority. While their teaching may indeed be sound, they have missed the point.

It is tempting for us to read these passages of conflict between Jesus and the religious leaders of his day and make them out to be the villains of the gospels. We gleefully join in hisses and boos when they enter the scene, and smile all too knowingly when they are rightfully called “hypocrites” and “brood of vipers.” In this text, we hear Matthew’s detailed descriptions of their ostentatious display of religiosity and pat ourselves on the back to be on the side of Jesus, knowing just how awful these people are. But, what if, these same tendencies of the first century religions leaders aren’t so far removed from our own? Perhaps the vanity, hypocrisy, and arrogance that trouble Jesus are more universal human characteristics that we all embody more than we’d like to admit.

The lure of power is great for us, too. We all have things we yearn for in life: success, money, status, or simply being liked by others. And in those moments when we accomplish steps towards them on any level, we feel pretty special. We must have done something right to deserve this, right? God must be smiling on us, rewarding us for our goodness. Patrick Gray says:

“It is so easy to confuse our interests with God’s purposes, our power with God’s sovereignty, our standing with God’s glory[i].”

After all:

“human beings like to matter, to be important, to be honored. We all want to be known and loved; this is what it means to be human . . . How important is it for all of us to feel as if we matter and are appreciated! We want promotions, raises, bonuses, good grades. We are the “they” – the finger points back to us, because we are all human[ii].”

To these authorities in the first century, and to us, it is as if Jesus saying, “who taught you that?”

This passage calls us beyond ourselves. For the Pharisees, Jesus is pointing them to the heart of their faith, and reminding them that they are not God. In our own day to day lives, we sometimes need those reminders, too. We get caught up in the excitement of our own accomplishments and are blinded to others as we beam with our own pride. This passage, though, calls us off of our pedestals to consider that it’s really not about us. For behind any of our accomplishments are a host of individuals who have loved us, nurtured us, taught us, and supported us along the way.

Who taught you that? It’s the question answered in acceptance speeches for awards, as actors and athletes thank their parents, coaches, teachers, friends, and other important people in their lives. As we reflect on our own lives and accomplishments, I imagine we also come up with a list of others to thank. It is particularly appropriate on this All Saints Sunday of the year to reflect on those who have made us the people that we are. One simple definition of a saint is someone who has shown us the way, often by example, and usually in a way that helps us be better people. Today we give thanks to God for them in our lives. We will lift them in prayer this morning during our worship service – if you have not already, write down their name on a prayer card or scrap of paper and give to an usher during the next hymn. You can also say their names out loud during the prayer as well.

After a death, I have the privilege of being with families as they grieve, and love hearing stories about their loved one. Almost without fail, the stories are not about “stuff” or even “power”; they revolve around how much of an impact the individual had on others, his or her positive example of how to live, and of his or her self-giving spirit. This humility is a common trait among saints, who gave of themselves in big and small ways that taught us more about love and life, and did not put themselves above others in doing so. Saints model how Jesus calls us to be at the end of this passage – the greatest among us who have been servants. On this day especially, we remember that even though they are no longer here with us, they have been exalted in heaven, rejoicing as saints in God’s presence forever. This is the image the Bible gives us over and over again of saints: endless praise at the throne of God. For you see, it isn’t really about the saints either. Saints point us to an even greater “who”– God.

As we honor and remember the saints in our lives, we really are giving thanks to God for the gifts and abilities God gave each of them, and for putting them in our lives. We acknowledge that God is the master creator, ruler of heaven and earth, and proclaim that in life and in death we belong to this amazing God. This is what Jesus is getting at, I think, in his insistence that there is only one father, God in heaven. Everything begins and ends with God. This is the message we proclaim at every memorial service or funeral. We hold our loved ones close to us, yes, but more than anything else, we remind ourselves of the heart of our faith as we gather for worship services that witness to the resurrection – the power God has beyond life on this earth to be in loving relationship with us forever.

Who taught us this? The one instructor and rabbi, Jesus Christ. Through Christ, the power of death is shattered. Because of Christ, we have eternal life, and can be bold enough to say that the saints who have gone before us, our loved ones, are indeed with God. This hope extends to us on earth as well, as we join them in the communion of saints, believers united in every time and place. It is part of what we celebrate every time we gather around the communion table. Our celebration of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is our rehearsal for that time when we are united with all the saints at Christ’s table, our glimpse of what it might be like. Our preparation for this, though, should extend beyond a small cube of bread and cup of juice. It should be modeled in every moment of our lives. As the Saint Theophane Vernard says, “the life of a Christian should be a perpetual jubilee, a prelude to the festivals of eternity.”

This is what All Saints Sunday is truly about: a celebration of the communion of the saints – all people of faith here today, those who have gone before us, and even those who will come after us, connected together by the one who taught us what God’s love was all about, and who led us by his example, and who continues to teach us through his Word. So let us give thanks for the ones who have gone before us, and then humbly take our seats as students of the one true God. Because we still have a lot more to learn. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
November 5, 2017

—————————————————————————————
[i] Patrick Gray, “Exegetical Perspective: Matthew 23:1-13,” David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 4 (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[ii] Jacqueline J. Lewis, “Homilectical Perspective: Matthew 23:1-12”, Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2 Chapters 14-28, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

Sunday’s Sermon – Starry-Eyed – Galatians 3:23-29 – Scriptures and Seuss

Sunday’s Sermon – Powerless – 2 Corinthians 12:1-10

Sunday’s Sermon – Who Taught You That? Matthew 23:1-12

Food Pantry

Church News

Upcoming Events

Worship