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Sunday’s Sermon – Digging Holes – Matthew 25:14-30

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Last weekend, Matt and I found ourselves in a pretty deep hole, and it was our own doing. While on our camping trip to Raccoon Mountain near Chattanooga, I had the bright idea that caving would be a fun adventure. So we signed up, filled out a lengthy waiver, put on recommended clothing and headed to the Cavern entrance to meet our guide for our “Waterfall Dome” tour and three and a half hours or so of exploring. We soon veered off from the walking, lit portion of the caverns, and after a slippery walk and belly crawl took a short break. Our energetic young guide, Ben, jokingly asked “so, who here is afraid of heights?” I felt my body stiffen. I had not bargained on heights while deep in a cave. He went on to describe the “y-body position” move we’d need for the next section, angling ourselves “like you see in Ninja warrior” over an opening which he guessed had a drop of anywhere from 8 to 20 feet depending on the section. Then he smiled and asked who was ready to go. I was not. I was trying to figure out if it was possible to go back the way we came; after all, we’d only been going for about half an hour. Then I remembered the notes from the website that said the minimum age was 8 and everyone had to be 56 inches tall. How did 8 year olds do this? They must not have any fear. Fortunately, I have a great partner who saw my panic and reassured me he was there to help me get through it. So we moved forward and made it through. In fact, you couldn’t really see the depth of the drops because of the darkness of the cavern, and it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as our guide had made it out to be. Difficult? Yes. Unnerving? Absolutely. But doable. At the end of the day, you have to overcome your fears if you want to get out of the cave.

In today’s parable, only two servants would have made it out; the third servant would still be sitting in the muddy cavern with his one talent. In the first century, this was the largest unit of currency available at the time. Some scholars guess that it would have been worth between 15 and 20 years’ worth of a salary for a day laborer. The exact figure isn’t as important for understanding as it is that this was no small pocket change. Do some quick math – double your current annual salary. Now add a zero to it. Imagine it in front of you, a stunning amount that doesn’t belong to you, but is now in your care. Of course the servant dug and hole and buried it to keep it safe. His actions prompt us to ask:

What’s so wrong with being cautious? Discretion and deliberateness are virtues, not vices. But with this third servant virtues become vices. Prudence and wariness easily become self-protectiveness and restraint. Inhibition turns to fear, and the servant ends up refusing the risk of trading in the marketplace[i].

The third servant simply waits for the master to come back, so he can return it, perhaps like a hot potato, saying “Here you go – it’s all there. Every penny accounted for, just like you left it.” Nothing new to see here.

And yet, when the master returns, the prudent decision of the servant is not rewarded. It seems there were some better options for how to pass the time while the master was away. The first two servants had invested their sums, 5 and 2 talents respectively, and each doubled the amount. They are rewarded and given additional responsibilities as a result. Then, the master turns to the third servant, who immediately begins offering explanations and notes that he was afraid to do anything but hide what he had been given in the ground. And the result isn’t pretty. The master is harsh, calling the servant lazy, saying he at least could have put it in a basic interest bearing account. And then he is punished, banished to the darkness where there is weeping and grinding of teeth; one of the most harsh treatments of anyone we read about in Scripture. It’s a hard story to swallow. It’s not like the third servant squandered these funds away on gourmet dinners and fine wines. He didn’t buy an iPhone 10 or go on an all-night shopping spree on Black Friday. He just maintained what was there; a reasonable and safe venture. And that seems to be the heart of one issue Jesus is trying to teach in this parable. As John Buchanan notes:

The point here is not really about doubling your money and accumulating wealth. It is about living. It is about investing. It is about taking risks. . . The greatest risk of all, it turns out, is not to risk anything, not to care deeply and profoundly enough about anything to invest deeply, to give your heart away and in the process risk everything. The greatest risk of all, it turns out, is to play it safe, to live cautiously and prudently[ii].

This parable is the third in a series of four Jesus tells in Matthew about the end times (eschaton) as he nears Jerusalem and the final events that will lead him to the cross. The tension of this journey is palpable, with a sense of urgency and importance. Here, Jesus expresses what he hopes and expects of them after he is gone while they wait for his coming again. This is a parable about what it means to be a follower of Jesus, faithful to him, even when he’s not there to show you firsthand how it’s done. And so, it is a parable about you and me as well.

Often we hear this parable and think about it as a stewardship lesson of investment, or a reminder to use those skills that we have rather than hide them away. And while these are reasonable and worthwhile perspectives, they fail to capture the larger picture and drama of the context of this parable about the end of time, kingdom of God, and judgment. We might, as Matt Skinner suggests, think about it more as a parable about callings, the “positions in which God has placed you to make a difference; opportunities to be influential[iii].”

The third servant had the opportunity, the calling, to take what had been put before him and do something for the glory of the master. And instead of building up, he dug a hole in fear. Skinner continues:

This parable is about more than just what you can do, or what God has gifted you with, but it’s a parable about what are you going to do in those moments where you clearly know what it means to represent Christ in a moment and you don’t do so[iv].

From the first century until today, God’s people have had trouble stepping up to live fully into Christ’s call to live actively as disciples. In the 1940s, German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer struggled with this as he wrote in the midst of the Holocaust. He offered “that the sin of respectable people is running from responsibility[v],” as he wrestled with his own sense of responsibility to speak out against Hitler and the Nazi party, which led to his arrest, internment in a concentration camp, and execution. Running from responsibility looks a lot like digging holes.

This is what Martin Luther King, Jr. railed about in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” lamenting and calling out those who, like the third servant, did nothing. King wrote:

I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection[vi].

The middle ground, you see, the ground of inaction and passivity, of the third servant, of the hiding in a hole, is no ground to stand on at all.

This pattern infiltrates our daily lives as well. Fear overtakes our desire and ability to do the things we know are good and right. We don’t speak up when things don’t seem right because we don’t want to create waves. With Thanksgiving on the horizon, this will be tested repeatedly as families with diverse opinions gather.  We hesitate to volunteer because we aren’t sure if we have the abilities, or are selfish with our time and afraid it will take away from the other things we want to do. We don’t want to be inconvenienced. The holes we dig for ourselves are all around us. And, even when confronted with it, we keep digging. Have you ever realized you were wrong about something, but then became even more insistent on your wrong notion, or kept talking and saying things that only made something worse? It seems we think that the holes will somehow protect us a bit, but most of the time they end up burying us instead.

The good news is, we have this parable to inspire us to choose another way; to stare fear in the face and stand on the side of Christ; to be bold enough to take a stand in the face of what tries to render us helpless and say, “not today.” In the wake of yet another story about a shooting during a service of worship, our very gathering here today is a witness to the power of the gospel to triumph over fear. This is what it means to be the church. Our Book of Order even helps define it this way, saying:

The church is to be a community of faith, entrusting itself to God alone, even at the risk of losing its life[vii].

As people of faith, we are called to take risks, not dig holes. This is one of our greatest callings as those who follow Jesus and live in anticipation of his return. To live into the kingdom of heaven that these parables describes means being ready to present ourselves to God not as maintainers of the bare minimum, but as faithful investors who lived fully into the lives God gave us.

As poet Marianne Williamson reminds us:

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone.
And as we let our light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others[viii].

Rather than throw each other shovels to make the holes of fear and insecurity greater, let’s throw some ropes down, join hands, and help each other navigate those caverns and holes together, until we all are brought back up again. And in the midst of the darkness we are in, may the light of Christ shine our way, so that we may be bearers of light to the world with good news, the kind the doubles what we have been given. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
November 19, 2017

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[i] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Proper 28,” Texts for Preaching- Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).
[ii] John M. Buchanan, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 25:14-30,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[iii] Rolf Jacobson, Karoline Lewis, and Matt Skinner, “Sermon Brainwave Podcast #570 – Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost,” Working Preacher.Org, Posted November 11, 2017, http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=948, accessed 11/15/17.
[iv] Matt Skinner.
[v] As referenced by John M. Buchanan.
[vi] Martin Luther King, Jr, “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963, https://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html, accessed 11/16/17.
[vii] Book of Order 2017-2019, Presbyterian Church (USA),  F-1.0301.
[viii] Marianne Williamson, “Our Deepest Fear” from Return to Love, as printed in Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 3, (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1996).

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

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“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

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[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 – Always Being Reformed

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Let’s play a game. Guess the company based on the slogan:

  • “Just do it.” (Nike)”
  • “Finger lickin’ good” (Kentucky Fried Chicken)
  • “It keeps going . . . and going . . . and going . . .” (Energizer Bunny)
  • “Melts in your mouth, not in your hands” (M&Ms)
  • “The quicker picker upper” (Bounty)

Every good product needs a slogan. Advertisers and marketers spend a tremendous amount of time, energy, and money trying to come up with something that will stick with you and help you remember their product in a positive way. This week, we commemorate the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation. Imagine for a moment, those leaders in our faith gathered around a table, trying to come up with a slogan that encapsulated the movement. For example, Martin Luther might have recalled the 95 Theses he had posted, and suggested the slogan, “Nailed It!”

Unfortunately or fortunately, the Reformers never all gathered around for such a session. But as the ideas sparked by Luther and others expanded some 500 years ago, there were some words and phrases that seemed to link together this movement across Europe. By the time we reached the Dutch Second Reformation in a 1674, one emerged in a  devotional written by Jodocus van Lodenstein. He and others were committed to teaching the Reformed confession and catechism, and wanted to see those teachings better applied and more thoroughly understood. The slogan he presented was:  Ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda secundum verbum Dei, that is, “The church reformed, always to be reformed according to the Word of God.” It reminded the church, just 150 years or less after the Reformation had begun to spread, that the process of transformation and change was meant to be ongoing, and it insists that it is God, through Scripture and the Holy Spirit, who will bring this change about. Note:

the verb is passive: the church is not “always reforming,” but is “always being reformed” by the Spirit of God through the Word. Although the Reformers themselves did not use this slogan, it certainly reflects what they were up to[i].

The late theologian Phyllis Tickle wrote a book five years ago titled The Great Emergence: How Christianity is Changing and Why (Baker Books, 2012)[ii]. In it, she posits that every 500 years, the Church goes through what she calls a “rummage sale,” that cleans out the old forms of spirituality and replaces it with new ones. The former ones are not lost, obsolete or invalid, but they lose their “pride of place” as the dominant form of Christianity. She notes events like Constantine’s acceptance of Christianity as a national religion at the turn of the 5th century, the Great Schism of the 11th century, and the Reformation. Then, she goes on to wonder if the Postmodern era in the 21st century might be a new form of Christianity emerging that means that Protestantism in all its denominational forms is losing influence and is giving way to alternative forms of Christian expression. More and more, studies show that this is becoming true. We live in a “post-denominational world.” This is a real challenge for the church as we know it, because it means that change is on the horizon.

Commemorating the Reformation today should remind us that the Spirit continues to prod and pull and move us in new directions. To be Reformed means to be mindful of this history, while at the same time moving forward. It means looking to those foundations of our faith and holding them to the light of Scripture to see what the Spirit is saying to us as the church today – what are we being called to hold on to? What might we be called to let go? To answer these questions, we might look at some other “slogans” that have come to define what it is to be “Reformed.”

By the 20th century, some scholars began to put them together based on recurring phrases found in the writings of the Reformers. Theodore Engelder presented them in a 1916 article “The Three Principles of the Reformation: Sola Scriptura, Sola Gratia, Sola Fides.” In 1934, theologian Emil Brunner introduced Soli Deo gloriam. In 1958 historian Geoffrey Elton reflected that John Calvin had “joined together” the “great watchwords” of faith and grace, followed by the others. Later Brunner offered that theological Karl Barth had added Cristus solus to the mix. By Johann Baptiste Metz’s 1965 work, The Church and the World, we had the list of five that you see on the cover of your bulletin. These phrases are known as the five “solas,” after the latin that begins each phrase, translated as “alone” or “only.” They have become slogans, if you will, for what it means to be Reformed. Or, as our Presbyterian Book of Order says, are phrases that:

embody principles of understanding that continue to guide and motivate the people of God in the life of faith[iii].

First, Sola scriptura – Scripture Alone. Did you realize that those Bibles in your pews are revolutionary!? Martin Luther himself translated the Bible into German beginning in 1522, and while he was not the first, the Luther Bible became widespread and highly revered. One Wittenberg publisher alone printed 100,000 copies between 1534 and 1574[iv]. At the heart of all of this was the importance of Scripture in the lives of believers, and the desire for everyday people to have access to it in their own language. It is the embodiment of those instructions Jesus gave to his disciples in John 8, to “continue in my Word” that they might discover truth and freedom.

For the Reformers, everything they wrote came back to a firm grounding in Scripture. That is why, practically speaking, we have two sacraments – the Lord’s Supper and Baptism – because those were the rituals the Reformers identified as the ones instituted by Christ himself in Scripture. John Calvin’s systematic theology contains footnotes and references for almost every sentence, setting the bar that belief must be based in the Bible.  Church councils and others followed suit in developing what we have come to know as our Confessions, those statements of faith about what we believe, all with strong phrasing and references to our Biblical text. Even today, this pattern is still very much a part of the life of the church.  Everyone who is ordained in the Presbyterian Church, USA, answers the following question “Do you accept the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be, by the Holy Spirit, the unique and authoritative witness to Jesus Christ in the Church universal, and God’s Word to you?[v]” We surround ourselves with God’s Word, believing that in doing so we will allow it to inhabit our very being.

We might hear echoes of Jeremiah’s explanation of God’s covenant with the Israelites from the very beginning, as God declared “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts” in order that “they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest[vi].” The only way to have God’s law inside of us, written into the very fabric of who we are, is attentive focus on reading and studying God’s Word to us in the Bible. In short, we should be wearing our Bibles out as Reformed Christians, and that engagement with scripture should make some impact in our lives that helps us embody God’s Word each and every day. Sola scriptura.

 As John Calvin did, let’s take the next two together – sola fide and sola gratia – faith and grace alone. This is the heart of the Reformed understanding of salvation, rooted in a close reading of Scripture. Ephesians 2:8 even pairs them succinctly, saying, “for by grace you have been saved through faith.” These phrases emphasize the role of God’s grace over any works we could possibly do or law we could follow. The Reformers knew that, as Paul described to the Romans in chapter 3, God’s righteousness, justification, and redemption are free and good gifts from God. 500 years ago, this spoke to some very specific circumstances within the church, but even today it speaks to us in a world where “there is no such thing as free lunch.” For Calvin, it was clear that this was the only way salvation could work; he knew just how far we as humans were from what God intended because of sin in its many forms. “Total depravity” is the catch phrase that runs alongside these, with the recognition that we are utterly and solely dependent on God. Grace is the means by which God acts and brings salvation. Faith is the way we receive it. Sola fide. Sola Gratia.

It is this dependence on God that leads us to our next slogan, the means by which we understand God’s grace – Jesus Christ. Solus Christus.  Christ alone, is the way through which God is reconciled with the world. Calvin’s favorite title for Christ was “mediator,”  recognizing the intercessory role he played in our salvation. Jesus is the fully human embodiment of God – God’s goodness, righteousness, wisdom, and power to save – in our history[vii].  This understanding of redemption is laid out in Romans. Jesus Christ is God’s gracious self-revelation, through which we come to a saving and transforming knowledge of God. It is the purpose of the entire New Testament, and the fulfillment of the promises for a Messiah from the Hebrew Scriptures. Through Christ, we are justified and made free. Solus Christus.

Finally, soli Deo Gloria – Glory to God alone. In some ways, this slogan is a summary of all the others, reminding us of the one through whom all things have come into being, including our salvation. Like the Psalmist, we are in awe and wonder. This sola calls us to “Come, behold the works of the Lord” (Psalm 46:8). It focuses our attention on praise and honor to God in all that we do, for it indeed is God, not anything we have done or could possibly do who is responsible for our salvation. It is right, then, for us to give our thanks and praise in response. This final slogan prompts us to action, with lives that proclaim the goodness and glory of God. Soli Deo Gloria.

Together, these five solas represent the heart of the Protestant Reformation, as well as a solid summary of what we as Presbyterians believe. Although they might seem simple, once you start digging into them a bit more than we have this morning, there is much to be discovered and discussed. In fact, the Protestant church has been doing just that for five centuries now, as Councils and other gatherings of believers have tried to explain their meaning and figure out how they apply to our lives as individuals and as the church. One would think that this would have all been iron clad and figured out after 500 years, but the truth is, it is a work in progess. We, the church, are a work in progress. And that is good news that returns us to that hallmark slogan: ““The church reformed, always being reformed according to the Word of God.”

If the Reformation tells us anything, it is that God is always at work, reforming and reworking us through the revelations of Scripture, our experience of the risen Christ, and the movement of the Holy Spirit. God is in the business of change. On this 500th anniversary, perhaps we can join the Reformers in digging deeper into questions of faith, continuing to unpack Scripture and figure out what the Spirit is saying to us anew. When we do, we are being “Reformed” at our very best – ready for the changes God has for the future.  May this ongoing re-formation carry us into the next 500 years together. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 29, 2017

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[i] https://www.presbyterianmission.org/what-we-believe/ecclesia-reformata/
[ii] An excellent interview that highlights some of the key points can be found here: https://www.faithandleadership.com/phyllis-tickle-anthill
[iii] Book of Order, 2017-2019, F-2.04, Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
[iv] For more information about the Luther Bible, see http://www.history.pcusa.org/blog/2017/10/luther-translator.
[v] Book of Order, 2017-2019, W-2.0404b, Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
[vi] Jeremiah 31:31-34
[vii] For an excellent summary of John Calvin’s life and beliefs, consider Christopher Elwood, Calvin for Armchair Theologians, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002).

Sunday’s Sermon – Show And Tell – Exodus 33:12-23

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“Show me the money!” Perhaps this should have been the start to last week’s Stewardship sermon. Do you know the line? It helped make Cuba Gooding, Jr. famous in the 1996 movie Jerry Maguire. Desperate to keep his one remaining client, the once-cocky sports agent lead character, played by Tom Cruise, calls the player who is unhappy with his existing contract, Gooding’s character, Wide Receiver Rod Tidwell. It’s a comical give and take, as Gooding paces around his home with swagger, trying to get his agent in the same groove. By the end of the phone call, there is dancing and shouting from both player and agent in a scene that propelled Gooding to Oscar success.

“Show me the money!” is about more than just financial negotiations. It is a cry for authenticity and connection, even in the midst of mistrust or broken relationships. It is a beginning point for relationship and commitment between these two characters that touches on a theme carried throughout the film.

Our reading from Exodus this morning shows similar movement, as Moses meets God in a tent of meeting outside the camp of the Israelites. God’s people have been in the wilderness for some time, have received the Ten Commandments[i] and numerous other instructions about life together in community. They have gotten the building plans for the structure of the Tabernacle they are to build and the proper making of offerings, as well as all the furnishings. They have created the Ark of the Covenant, where the commandments will rest. And again, God has called Moses up the mountain for more instructions. But this most recent trip reveals impatience and frustration among the people of Israel, who respond under Aaron’s instructions by melting their gold into an idol for worship. You may have caught the reading of this story in worship last week. When this happens, not only does God get mad, but Moses is also furious, breaking the stone tablets he has been given, and Aaron declares that the people are “bent on evil[ii].”

Imagine for a moment a child has done something way out of line, or just something quite ridiculous. Have you ever heard one parent say to the other, “look what your son did!” That’s the premise of some of this conversation. Moses is confronted with the realities of what his people have done, but in partnership with God offers the reminder that these people are also God’s people[iii], and as such, he looks to God as if to say, “so now what are you going to do about it?” He says, “show me your ways.” The subtext here is the same as in that conversation between Jerry Maguire and his athlete client – are you going to be with me or not? It’s a risky question for Moses to ask of God, too. As Dennis Olson wonders:

How can the powerful holiness and glory of the God of all creation live with and in the midst of a sinful people without the surging power of that divine holiness destroying the people (Exodus 33:3)?[iv]

The disparity between what God has intended and how the people have responded is tremendous, and now the entire covenant between them has been called into question. But in the midst of struggle and broken promises, we God and Moses speaking as they always have, friend to friend[v]. In this conversation, Moses begins by trying to figure out what kind of relationship God intends to have with the Israelites after all.

This week, if you are connected to social media, you likely saw numerous posts that included the phrase or hashtag “me, too.” In response to revelations and accusations about inexcusable and despicable actions by Harvey Weinstein, actress Alyssa Milano invited those who had experienced sexual harassment or assault to name it with a post, hoping that it might raise awareness about the magnitude of the problem in our world. In a very different way, it was a call to show, and sometimes tell, about a problem in our society that is too often unnamed or brushed aside. What many don’t know is that the phrase actually began more than ten years ago as activist Tamara Burke reflected on a heartbreaking story she heard from a young girl at the camp where she worked. This experience motivated her to help young women of color who had survived sexual abuse, assault, and exploitation. Burke continues that work today as she serves as director of the Brooklyn-based Girls for Gender Equity. It has been a number of years since she began introducing the phrase “me, too” as a way to express solidarity and compassion to those victims, and this week it became more viral given recent events. Between noon last Sunday and Tuesday afternoon,

the #MeToo hashtag has been used 825,000 times [according to Twitter]. . .
[Facebook] said that in less than 24 hours, 4.7 million people around the world have engaged in the “Me too” conversation, with more than 12 million posts, comments and reactions. According to Facebook, more than 45% of people in the United States are friends with someone who’s posted a message with the words ‘Me too.[vi]‘

“Me, too” carries a lot of implications. It is one expression of the calling out of a sin that exists in our world and give space for those who have been long silenced to be heard. It gives reassurance that those who have experienced brokenness in its most gruesome form are not in fact alone.  And it reminds us of the importance of showing up and telling truths. Underlying all of this is a fundamental question of how we are going to be in relationship with one another in the midst of the brokenness of our world.

As we ponder this question in the midst of our communities of faith, we might look to the conversation Moses has with God in Exodus 33 to guide us. In this moment, as with the stories that precede it in the Exodus narrative, God’s character is revealed. Just one chapter before, Moses has persuaded God to not destroy the Israelites, and it’s not the first time they have screwed things up. But over and over again, God continues the pattern God began with the parting of the Red Sea; God delivers the people from the bonds of slavery and captivity of sin and brings them into freedom and the arms of mercy. We learn again that:

When justice and compassion clash within the heart of Yahweh, compassion prevails[vii].

Moses is the mediator through which this happens, as he represents the people of Israel to God, and also then represents God to the people of Israel as he returns to reveal the fruits of these conversations. The first gleaning of this conversation is the assurance of God’s enduring presence, promised in verse 14 with the word in Hebrew, Emmanuel. This is a promise of dwelling and desire to be in deep and abiding relationship with God’s people, even in the midst of trials.

At the end of our text, Moses gets a glimpse of this God while tucked into the cleft of a rock. This small taste of God propels Moses, and the people of Israel, into a renewed relationship with God again, which will lead to worship and a renewed proclamation of God’s graciousness and steadfast love. This is a pattern that repeats throughout the stories of Scripture. We even hear echoes of it in Paul’s greeting to the Thessalonians, where it is evident that the showing and telling about God’s grace and love has gone viral in that community, so much so that word has gotten back to Paul, Silas, and Timothy. God’s presence is meant to inspire a response from us. It is meant to call us into relationship and a way of being with each other that demonstrates the kind of covenant community God has envisioned from the very beginning, and never stops at trying to bring into reality. It is meant to make us load up our mystery bags and bring into our circles of family and friends and neighbors and even strangers, and share what we know to be true with a joyful show and tell of God’s presence in our own lives.

There has been a great response on the whole, I think to #MeToo. In the comments I have seen and read, and stories I have been privileged and trusted to hear this week, I think there have also been signs of God’s presence, that same presence promised to us in Exodus. I have heard it in the expressions of solidarity among women. I have seen it in the responses of men who have acknowledged the times they have “let things slide,” or even been responsible for statements or actions themselves, with earnest promises to do better as individuals and as a community. This “show and tell” as it were via hashtag and slogan has become more than just something trending on social media. It has become a call to be the community we are supposed to be, complete with an acknowledgment of the ways we have failed.

In bringing things to the light, and having tough conversations, we are better able to forge ahead as children of God together, and if we are faithful about it, we are doing it in the presence of God, which indeed can and will bring some relief and rest from those terrors that too many live with. This is important for the issue of sexual harassment and assault. It is also important for numerous other issues in our society and world that tear away at the very fabric of our communities and cause real pain and harm. Things like “Me, Too” are reminders that everyone has stories to tell, and calls us to pay better attention and do a better job of caring for each other through attentive, supportive listening and reciprocal action. They urge us to respond – by listening, by saying #IBelieveYou, by promising to step up when we observe it happening.  Being together in community can also look like other signs of support. Did you know that this morning, the entire congregation of Macland Presbyterian church here in our Presbytery is having a “pink-out?” with everyone wearing pink in support of their preschool director and others who are fighting breast cancer? This is a sign of our awareness of God’s presence. It’s about showing up for one another, and telling each other the hope we have come to know.

At our best, the church’s response to the world can be what is laid out in Exodus – a proclamation that we belong to God and that God never abandons us. The promise of Immanuel is that God says, “me, too,” because God’s nature is to be with us in the midst of the mess. And over and over again lead us from brokenness to restoration. This is the nature of God’s show and tell. May we load up our mystery bags with this good news, and prepare to proclaim it. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 22, 2017

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[i] See Exodus 20:1-17
[ii] Exodus 33:22.
[iii] See Exodus 33:13
[iv] Dennis Olson, “Commentary on Exodus 33:12-23,” The Working Preacher, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3445, accessed 10/18/2017.
[v] Exodus 33:11a, New Revised Standard Version
[vi] http://www.cnn.com/2017/10/17/us/me-too-tarana-burke-origin-trnd/index.html
[vii] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, James D. Newsome, Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).

Sunday’s Sermon – Keep Going! – Philippians 4:1-9

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Every November, the city of Richmond, Virginia, hosts a marathon. For 26.2 miles, runners pace themselves down Monument Avenue, across the James River, and tour the city in a street race. This is my story of that race. I didn’t run it (clearly – remember, I’m not a runner!), but my seminary campus was along the race route, and each year members of our community would volunteer at the closest water station, or just meet up to enjoy fellowship as we watched those running pass by. During my third year, we had a specific objective – one of our classmates was running. Signs were made, and various friends were positioned along the entire race route to cheer her on. We waited eagerly next to campus, close to the paced out time, excitedly scanning the runners for our friend. After a little while, someone caught sight of her and began to yell. The first thing I saw was Faith’s smile.

She shifted her run to come closer to the side where her cheering section had gathered, and ran victoriously by our campus receiving all the high fives and love she could. Another classmate, Lindy, joined her at the corner and ran a mile or so with her to give her a final boost to make it to the finish line. In class the next week, we celebrated with her again as she wore her medal to one of the classes we shared. She noted, eyes beaming, how much it meant to her to see those familiar faces along the race path, especially in those later miles when she thought her body might give out.

It helps, you see, to have a cheering section that reminds us to “keep going!” in our pursuits. A little encouragement can go a long way to help lift our spirits, remind us of our abilities, and get that extra boost to carry us forward. In many ways, Paul’s letter to the Philippians is one large cheering section for the early church. Throughout the letter, he encourages them to live their faith in the best ways possible. A large part of this is a call to unity with each other, that they might find strength in numbers and in working together. He also continues to emphasize the great gift of faith and power of Christ’s presence among them when this happens. In this final chapter he delivers a wonderful punctuation point with instructions on how they are to continue.

Verse four is one of the most well-known verses in Scripture and is often among those favorites we list. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!” For Paul, this is an important mark of the life of faith – a constant and persistent celebration of God in the lives of believers. You might even imagine the popular tune by Bobby McFerrin playing in the background, “Don’t worry . . . . be happy!,” particularly when reading the next verses. Such a conclusion is upbeat and uplifting, and it gives us all those warm and fuzzy feelings. It seems to check all the boxes for what encouragement should be.

For most of us, we hear these verses in fairly relaxed circumstances. It’s a crisp fall day and we are comfortable here in our pews, looking forward to a delicious picnic outside after worship. We might describe our metaphorical level of exertion as that of a leisurely stroll. For Paul and the Philippians, though, the context might have been a bit more taxing. We know from other places in this letter that the Philippians were enduring some sort of external persecution, and likely some internal turmoil and disunity. And Paul? He was writing this letter from prison. So it’s fair to say that both the reader and writer here were under some amount of stress. Perhaps the race equivalent of, say, mile 23 of the marathon. And here, the words of encouragement are even more important, and the instruction for continual joy even more challenging.

Paul is encouraging himself and his readers to remember joy continuously, because of what they know to be true in Jesus Christ. As Nathan Eddy notes:
Joy is a discipline of perception, not an emotion dependent on circumstances

    1. .

 

    1. Again, he calls for a reorientation to the world that perceives everything in light of the good news of Jesus Christ. And in this light of good news, joy can be found. This isn’t a fleeting or flimsy joy – it is the result of a deep abiding faith in the strength of God. It is an orientation of the spirit that hopes for a better future, and indeed trusts that future to God’s hands and seeks to become a coworker in it.

The role of joy in faith is not just celebratory – it is provocative and subversive. JOY is persistent, and seeks to overturn those threatening situations, vain desires, and selfish ambition and replace them with a peace that guards hearts and minds. What better place for it to begin than in difficult times, where it is needed the most. Eddy goes on to say that:
Joy always takes root amid adversity; there is no other soil for it to grow in .
By taking on a perspective of joy, the Philippians will join God in delighting for the good that is happening in the world, and will be motivated to keep pursuing it. Above all else, joy has the ability to keep things going.

This week, I had the incredible blessing of attending a conference at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur that connected the creative work of improve comedy to the context of serving in ministry and the need for adaptive leadership. It was eye-opening, and very fun. As we began, we gathered in a circle for some introductions, and the leaders used joy to build the energy in the group and foster a sense of connection and momentum for us that would launch us into our time together. After each person completed a prompt, the entire group would raise hands and exclaim, “that’s awesome!” It didn’t matter what was said. Some of the things shared were good, like a comment about someone seeing friends in town. Others were not quite that way, such as when someone shared that they had just quit their job and weren’t sure what came next. Admittedly, it was a bit weird to say “that’s awesome!” to some of them, but after a few times it started to make sense. We were honoring the brave space in which they had shared, and the refrain became an expression of support and encouragement. Laughter broke some of the tension and community was created. All with a little bit of shared joy, a precursor to what was to come.

A large part of improv comedy involves keeping the energy going. The adage “Yes, And” is a hallmark to this practice. It reminds the actors that what is spoken by others is offered as a gift. The job of others on stage is to attentively listen and receive it as that gift, encouraging each other and building upon what others have offered. The simplest way to do this? Start your response with “Yes, And . . .” It’s amazing the energy this can generate. It pushes the story forward, even to unexpected places.

When we’d forget, the energy would suddenly fall. A negative block of an idea would feel like the rug was pulled out from under us or a door was slammed in our face. But as the week progressed, we got better at doing it. We began to work together in pretty profound ways as a team. “Yes, And” became a way we helped inspire each other to “keep going.” One of our leaders even challenged us to step into open space before we knew what we were going to say, trusting that we could keep it going. And on those times when we failed? We knew we had the joy of “That’s awesome!” or a slow motion 1980s style group high five that would break any sense of failure apart with joy. No matter what comes, Paul, writes, keep going. If things are difficult, just put one foot in front of the other.

“Yes, And” is permission to “keep going,” and should be the line on all of our lips with each other as we encourage one another in faith and ministry. Last week in our text from Philippians 3, Paul urged us to “press on” and keep our eyes on the prize of the heavenly call. This week, just one chapter later, he continues this message with the encouragement to keep on doing what we have learned and received. Keep going. It’s simple advice that moves us into the future, and helps us live into the joy we carry or need to discover. “Press On, Keep Going” is what is carrying us through this Stewardship season as we reflect and make commitments to one another here in ministry. As a congregation, we are cheering each other on, and pointing each other towards greater goals of discipleship with each of these pledge cards. We are reminded that we are in this together, each of us doing what God calls us to do, trusting that the Spirit will knit us together in powerful ways. This is a day of celebration! We will rejoice together here in this space for worship, and continue in a time of fellowship at noon. There is much to be celebrated about what God has done, yes, AND today we also celebrate what we hope God will do in us, through us, and maybe in spite of us, in the year that is to come. Even if you are not a member of our congregation, I invite you to take a few moments and jot a note, perhaps on a scrap of paper, that is your offering to God today for how you will engage in ministry in your own ways, and then bring that paper forward with you as an inspirational sign, lifting it to God, the ultimate encourager.

Keep going, friends, in faith in the one who runs alongside us and is always near us. Keep going, and rejoice along the way! May these cards and offerings be our “yes” to following Jesus Christ, and may we joyfully anticipate that God will keep them going, receiving them and saying “yes, and…”

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 15, 2017

Quotes from Nathan Eddy, “Homiletical Perspective: Philippians 4:1-9,) Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011.)

Sunday’s Sermon – Press On – Philippians 3:4b-14

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I am continually impressed with those who have the discipline to run, even more so the ones who do it for fun. I have several friends who post about their training for marathons, including one who recently completed a Ragnar ultra-relay run, in which she and 5 friends combined ran 200 miles over a weekend. Seeing things like this remind me that I am in no way a runner. I grew up playing soccer, but was a defensive midfielder, which meant I spent most of the game in sprints and stops. I’m also horrible at pacing myself, so if I were to start out just trying to run, I would quickly reach maximum exertion and then be spent. Running without a ball or Frisbee to chase is of little appeal to me most of the time. I need to have some sort of objective. So right now, I’m working my way through a program called “Couch25k[i],” which gives a schedule of intervals of walking and jogging or running over the course of 9 weeks.  I’m starting week 4, and let me tell you, I’m not looking forward to it. This is the week where things shift so you run twice as long as you walk, rather than in evenly paired intervals, and I know it’s going to be hard. I am tempted to stop, or to at least just remain with the more comfortable “easy” runs in which I didn’t feel like I was going to fall off the treadmill and my legs didn’t feel as rubbery. But, with you all as my witnesses, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to challenge myself to press on to the harder runs, because I know that’s the only way I have any hope of actually reaching my goals this time around.

All of this to say, is running is no joke. It takes commitment, hard work, and discipline. The same is true about our life of faith, which is something the apostle Paul knew well. In Philippians, he utilizes the image of an athlete to demonstrate that the Christian life is not about just a quick profession of faith in Jesus Christ and then sitting back and waiting until he comes again. As Fred Craddock writes, the image is quite the opposite:

Paul portrays himself in the least relaxed, most demanding posture he knows: as a runner in a race. His language is vivid, tense, repetitious: pressing, stretching, pushing, straining. In those words the lungs burn, the temples pound, the muscles ache, the heart pumps, the perspiration rolls[ii].

For Paul, faith is an active response marked by a sense of movement toward something more. And Paul is quick to point out what gets left behind.

He reflects in this letter about his many accomplishments as a successful student of the Torah who was zealous about fulfilling his religious obligations. He notes that he was one who “had it all” religiously speaking. He took part in the appropriate rituals and adhered to the letter of the law. But then he references that moment we know from Acts 9 with his conversation on the road to Damascus, and identifies that this has shifted his perspective drastically. Now, all that he once clung to as accomplishment is loss. The word in Greek he uses is translated by the NRSV as “rubbish,” but carries a much more graphic feel – you can substitute your own euphemism. Instead, he has discovered that there is a much greater goal than just checking off all the boxes on the activities card at church. His focus has shifted, and now he is zeroed in more directly on an engaged relationship with Jesus Christ. For Paul, this is a critical distinction, and a straightforward reminder that our lives of faith are not as much about us as they are about Jesus. That is what he identifies as the gain.

Put simply, Jesus changes everything. Christ’s resurrection and claim on us as his own reorients us to a new way of being in the world that is forward-facing, not looking back to our own past achievements. The image of the runner here again is helpful. In running, it is usually less helpful to spend much time thinking about the road that is behind you. Instead, the focus needs to be on what lies ahead. Sometimes, that means little increments. I remember doing conditioning runs each year at the beginning of soccer season, when we had all neglected our training. As the team captains led us on a neighborhood run, I remember looking to telephone poles, large trees, street corners, anything I could to give myself a focus point on which to reach. By keeping my eye on something ahead, I found my feet were more likely to move forward. In the first century, however, runners may have had a different perspective. If you look at art from around that time and earlier, you find that the depictions are almost always of runners looking backward, suggesting that it may have been common to look over one’s shoulder when running[iii], as if you were being chased. Of course, this will generally make for a slower run, and potentially a dangerous one if you don’t pay attention to what is coming up. Paul’s image in Philippians may have been provocative to those early readers, challenging them to see things from a different perspective and to take on a new way of thinking in relationship to their lives of faith.

Maybe we need that reorientation, too. It is very easy in our lives of faith to get caught up in what has been done in the past and only note what we have experienced or have done before. This can be good, of course, as we recall those foundational and pivotal moments to our relationship with God. But it can also leave us with a belief system that is in the past, rather than one that engages us now in the present. Paul, I think, would have us work to let go of the things in our past that distract or encumber us so that we can pay attention to the here and now. Then, we can look ahead and press on to the future that lies before us. In order to get there, he might suggest that we focus on the one who is responsible for it all – Jesus, who is indeed ahead of us. Consider the chorus to the old hymn as our refrain:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory grace[iv].

These words were written in 1922 by Helen Lemmel, and the verses speak to those struggling with weary hearts and to places where evil seems to envelop all light and hope with darkness. In the face of heartbreak and tragedy, these words are a powerful testimony to the transforming power of Jesus Christ; of the good news of the resurrection that said evil and sin in this world would never be the final answer. This is the hope of our faith, and it needs to be spoken over and over again – as natural disasters strike, and as domestic terrorism leaves more than families grieving and hundreds injured in Las Vegas. As people of faith, we need to cling to the hope that Jesus can and will change these realities.

But our text from Paul also presses us to do more. Remember, he doesn’t instruct the Philippians to rest in this good news. He calls them to action. Thoughts and prayers are important in times of struggle, and good and right, but they themselves cannot be the end. We must press on towards a more full participation in the life-giving transformative work that God has done and is doing in the world through Jesus Christ. This means being a witness of compassion and love, like those who rushed to provide medical attention and care for the injured. This means being engaged in measures that might prevent such attacks from happening in the future. This means looking around our own communities and asking if we are showing Christ to each other every day in ways that foster peace and usher in the kingdom of God. This means spending time in prayer and reflection on what our own “heavenly calls” might be, whether around these circumstances or others where we are passionate. Our work as disciples isn’t finished just because we are here confessing that Jesus Christ is Lord. In fact, that profession is just the beginning of the race and journey Paul talks about. And, it’s like the clichéd phrase reminds us, it isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon.

The life of faith is about action and continued discernment. This is what “pressing on” toward Jesus is all about, and our text for today urges us to examine our own lives and consider how well or not the decisions we are making is leading us in closer relationship with Christ. This month at Heritage we have paired our stewardship season with these words from Paul, as an encouragement to us to think about our own engagement within this community as well as throughout our lives of faith. A few weeks ago, you should have received commitment cards that asked you to reflect on your financial, time, and talents. Our Stewardship and Finance committee along with the Deacons hope that you will take time to pray with these and see them as a spiritual growth opportunity. The intent of these cards is not to be an obligation or pressure to mark every item on a list, but is meant to be a way that we each make a commitment to Christ through the sharing of all we have been given, a promise to how we hope to look ahead and move forward as disciples of Jesus Christ through tangible ways. Perhaps, in one or more of these areas, you might consider pressing on to a deeper level of involvement. That might mean an increased financial gift, a resolution to attend worship more often, a commitment to pray daily for our congregation and its leaders, or a new way of volunteering your time and talents. Don’t just stay at a comfortable, easy pace with faith. Step up to the challenge of Paul’s race and stretch yourself a bit. You might just find that in doing so you own faith will be strengthened, and that you’re able to do more than you thought possible before. And, as you bring these cards to worship with you next week, remember they are not an end to themselves, but are a reminder that we are on a journey together, straining forward to what lies ahead.

As those on the road together, we are working toward a pretty big goal. Bigger than a “balanced budget,” or “increased worship attendance,” or more hands at the mobile food pantry. While all of these are indeed goals that we can and hopefully will accomplish together, if we only focus on these, we will miss the point of it all. Fortunately, Paul helps remind us. Our “goal” is to pursue the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. That’s it. To be the most faithful in this time and place, and to press on to deeper levels of discipleship together, so that we might be transformed by the relationship we have with Jesus Christ. That’s why this has to be a process of prayer and conversation, attentive to our actions being a natural and earnest extension of our faith. This is what stewardship is all about.

Over the next week, I encourage you to take this passage to heart, and spend time in reflection and prayer with how you are running the race. Center yourself on Jesus and the call God is making to you, and press on to that goal of being the best disciple you can be with your time, your skills and abilities, and your financial resources. In striving towards this goal, the Psalmist’s words will ring true, and we will also be those who “tell of the glory of God[v].” May the words of our mouths, the meditations of our hearts, and all that we do in response, be done with this in mind, that they may be acceptable to God, our rock and our redeemer[vi].  Together, we press on. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 8, 2017

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[i] https://health.nokia.com/blog/2016/04/14/couch-to-5k-inventor-josh-clark/
[ii] Fred B. Craddock, Interpretation: Philippians, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1985)
[iii] Annette Weissenreider, “Exegetical Perspective: Philippians 3:4b-14,” Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011.)
[iv] “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus,” words and music by Helen H. Lemmel, 1922.
[v] Psalm 19:1
[vi] Psalm 19:14

Sunday’s Sermon – Every Tongue Confess – Philippians 2:1-13, World Communion Sunday

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Believe it or not, good things can come out of Stewardship seasons. In 1934, Dr. Hugh Thomson Kerr, a pastor who had recently been the moderator of the General Assembly in 1930, had an idea that churches should be brought together in a service of Christian unity, so that everyone might receive both inspiration and information, and above all, know the importance of the church of Jesus Christ and remember that each congregation is interconnected with one another. He took this thought to the Stewardship Division at Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1934, and they began to celebrate with such a service on the first Sunday of October. Two years later, World Communion Sunday was adopted by the US Presbyterian Church, and then it began to spread to other denominations and was endorsed by the Federal Council of Churches (now the National Council of Churches) in 1940.  The pastor’s son, Rev. Donald Kerr, was a teenager at the time, but later noted:

The concept spread very slowly at the start. People did not give it a whole lot of
thought. It was during the Second World War that the spirit caught hold, because
we were trying to hold the world together. World Wide Communion symbolized
the effort to hold things together, in a spiritual sense. It emphasized that we are
one in the Spirit and the Gospel of Jesus Christ[i].

This morning, almost 100 years later, we join with brothers and sisters in Christ in different congregations, denominations, and countries to celebrate our unity. We can see glimpses of that truth here at Heritage. Last week, we welcomed several new members from different places, including Hilda Snyders, who comes to us from the Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa. During the week, we met school children and adults who were evacuees from St. Croix and opened our facilities to them so they could have a makeshift school and activity time for their children and teenagers as they worked on what would come next for their families. Today at 11:00, we will be joined in worship by our brothers and sisters from Marietta Presbyterian Church, the Korean speaking congregation who meets in our original church building up the hill. In just a week’s time, we have several new examples of the wideness of God’s family.

World Communion Sunday is a wonderful witness to the entire body of Christ, and is a time for us to renew our energies and be inspired by the great cloud of witnesses that surround us, and have even gone before us. In a time where our society and world is full of division and argument, when threats of war lurk not just in the shadows, but in our news cycles, we need to know that we are not as disconnected and alone as it may seem.  World Communion Sunday is an affirmation that we are united by something far bigger than anything that could threaten to divide us.   Today is a reminder and a celebration of the faith and friendship we share through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Paul’s letter to the Philippians is the perfect text to help focus us on this important point. It is written to a Christian community in eastern Macedonia with whom Paul had great affection. Throughout the letter, his encouragement and commentary are signs of a friendship and love with this group of believers in a way that is more affectionate than almost any of his other letters. In addition to this theme of love and care for each other, Paul continually encourages them to seek unity. Writer Monya Stubbs suggests that:

Paul lays out three levels of unity into which he hopes the Philippian community will grow stronger: (1) a unity of purpose or mission in living and proclaiming the gospel, (2) a unity around the principle of “other interestedness,” and (3) a unity of perspective where people understand themselves as mutually indebted to one another[ii].

For Paul, unity is related to actions and is a lived-out reality of our beliefs. In writing to the Philippians, he hopes that they will learn a pattern of thinking and living that is humble. He knows that this is a difficult thing to do. In fact, it can only be accomplished with the help of Jesus Christ himself.

Paul includes a beautiful hymn in verses 6 through 11 of our passage, one that was likely familiar to this congregation in Philippi, and helps illustrate the core elements of his message with a beautiful description of who Jesus is as an example and inspiration to believers.  Marcus Borg notes that, in Jesus:

Rather than being an article of belief, God becomes an experiential reality. . . .
God can be known in that direct and intimate way, not merely believed in[iii].

Through Jesus, humanity has a relationship with God that is defined by love. In this way, Jesus is the manifestation of the heart of God[iv]. Such a revelation, such a love, is meant to evoke a response in the Philippians, and in us. It should call us to worship. The very name of Jesus should stir in us something deep and profound, touching the places of deepest longing and sincerest hope. It should bring us to the place where we, too, bow down and worship, confessing with our loudest voice that Jesus Christ is Lord!

I love the phrase in verse 11 from this ancient hymn “every tongue confess,” because it reminds me that Christians have a variety of ways of professing our faith, which I imagine sounds like a beautiful symphony to God. We profess our faith in literal different tongues, using different languages to proclaim the same good news. Today, we hear words of Scripture, prayer, and praise in English and Korean, and join our voices in these and the other languages of our hearts to offer our worship to God. We also use different kinds of words and phrases to articulate and explain our faith. While the profession of Jesus Christ as Lord is what makes us distinctly Christian, we have many ways of explaining what that means. Leanne Van Dyk describes some of them in this way:

One person might say, “It means that Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior and, if I believe in him, I will have eternal life.” Someone else might say, “It means that Jesus is on the side of the poor and oppressed and we are called to join in the struggle for justice.” Yet another person might declare, “Jesus is the King of the world. We must follow Jesus and obey him.” Someone else might answer, “Yes, Jesus is King. But his rule is best seen in the suffering of the cross. We must turn upside down all our notions of power because of Jesus.[v]”

What would you say? How would you confess that Jesus Christ is Lord? Chances are, there would be as many different answers in this room as there are people. And I think that is almost always a good thing, because it means that Jesus Christ isn’t just some historical figure about whom we learn a biography or facts and figures. It means that Jesus is alive and well in our lives today, and has impacted us in ways that are deeply personal and unique. That is the power of God’s love, a God who is at work in each of us, even now.

The many ways we confess who Jesus is also means that we need each other in community to fully get a picture of God. Together with the stories of our scriptures, we can better understand the many dimensions and aspects of God that make our great mystery of faith. Through these understandings, we might hope to get a glimpse of Christ himself.

When I was a child at church summer camp, I remember learning a song whose chorus asks:

Have you seen Jesus my Lord? He’s here in plain view.
Take a look, open your eyes, he’ll show it to you[vi].

I sang it constantly, because I fell in love with the soprano descant, but also because it was a reminder of the ways we experience God in the midst of our lives. The verses speak of God in the sunset, and the ocean, and on the cross. By my favorite is the final verse:

Have you ever stood in the family with the Lord there in your midst?
Seen the face of Christ on each other? Then I say . . . you’ve seen Jesus my Lord[vii].

Today, on this World Communion Sunday, we stand in the family of God, and the Lord is here in our midst. We proclaim the good news that Jesus Christ is Lord to each other, as we join in prayer, lift our voices in song, and share in bread and cup. Look around you, brothers and sisters in Christ. The Lord is in our midst. May we see Jesus Christ on the face of each other, may we feel his presence, may we hear his name and bend a knee to confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 1, 2017, 8:30 am service (11:00 am was abridged from this manuscript to allow for interpretation in Korean by Rev. Paul Lee of Marietta Presbyterian Church)
——————————————————————————————————
[i] John A. Dalles, “Presbyterian Origins: World Wide Communion Sunday,” Originally printed in the October 7, 2002 issue of Presbyterian Outlook, http://www.wekivapresbyterian.org/articles/presbyterian_origins.htm, accessed 9/28/2017.
[ii] Monya A. Stubbs, “Philippians,” True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary, Brian K. Blount, General Editor, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007).
[iii] Marcus J. Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the Heart of Contemporary Faith, (New York: HarperOne, 1994).
[iv] Leanne Van Dyk, Believing in Jesus Christ, (Louisville, KY: Geneva Press, 2002).
[v] Leanne Van Dyk.
[vi] “Jesus My Lord” by John Fischer, copyright 1970 by Songs and Creations, Inc., as printed in Songs, compiled by Yohann Anderson (San Anselmo, CA: Songs and Creations, Inc. , 1982).
[vii] Ibid.

Sunday’s Sermon – That’s Not Fair! – Matthew 20:1-16

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Being the oldest of three children is not always as glamorous as it seems.  On one hand, you tend to get a good bit of attention early on, and sometimes get privileges because you are the oldest. On the other hand, though, you’re the Guinea pig for your parents as they learn the ropes. This means, at some point, you will watch your younger siblings get to do things you never would have been able to do at that age. Somehow, they get to stay up or go out later, watch more grown up tv shows, and generally be way less supervised. And they never get in nearly as much trouble. Admittedly, as I observed my brothers growing up, multiple times I found myself exclaiming, “that’s not fair!!!”

That’s not fair could be the title of today’s story in our Bibles. It’s the exclamation of those who have worked all day, long and hard, and get to the front of the line to receive exactly the pay they’ve been promised, likely a small amount, but the going rate that was fair for a day’s pay. If you consider just their experience, such a cry seems odd. They came, agreed on a price, worked as agreed, and got their reward. So why are they so cranky? Because from the back of the pay line they have seen the landowner paying others, those who had worked far less. Based on that pay, they’ve come to expect more than was promised. Surely they had earned it. And yet, they only get the original amount promised. Just like those who arrived last.

It’s just not fair. And actually, that’s kind of the point of the parable, illustrated plainly in the conversation with the landowner, who reminds those laborers that he has fulfilled his promise to them in full; why are they resentful for graciousness shown to others? Jesus introduces this as an example of what the kingdom of heaven is like. Emile Deith, former president of Montreat Conference Center, used to greet conference attendees with a joke about such an image. He’d comment that “Montreat is a lot like heaven; you see a lot of people you didn’t expect to see.” The joke fit, reflecting the connectional, small world nature of the Presbyterian church, where you smile as you see friends you haven’t seen in a while in that holy mountain spot beyond the gate. But what if you said it as a summary of this parable: “in the kingdom of heaven you will see people who haven’t worked as hard or as long as you but get the same reward?” Well, that almost offends us if we’re honest. This parable rubs us. Something doesn’t seem right about it. That’s because we’re probably the most like those all day workers, and it’s hard to reconcile the gracious generosity of the landowner. We, too, might be equally envious and grumble a bit. So were many of the original listeners.
Commentator Patrick Wilson reflects that:

We may be entrepreneurial enough to agree that the owner of the vineyard can run his business any way he pleases, but we cannot rest comfortably with his payroll policies…. If the master is determined to be generous, why not pay those fellows who worked all day a bonus? That also would be fair. The way generosity gets passed around in this tale abrades our sense of justice[1].

Considering that this is a parable, and clearly the landowner is meant to represent God, we might quickly conclude the following: God’s not fair. The parable is great news to those hired at the end of the day, promised to be paid what was fair, and even to those hired midday, with the same unnamed but just amount promised. It’s harder to hear it as good news if we’ve been there all day. We take the exchange and salary for granted, not truly wrapping our heads around the gift that it is.

We are too close to ourselves, too wrapped up in our own skins, too bundled in our own terrible needs, to see truly what God gives us. What God, in goodness and generosity, gives us we are likely to assume is our due, something we have earned, a goodness we have fabricated for ourselves. We see other people more clearly than we see ourselves[2].

And in this context, our cries of “that’s not fair!” more likely than not expose our own warped sense of entitlement; or at least our privilege and our resistance to sharing it with anyone else.

The workers protest that in his decision, the landowner has made the later in the day workers “equal” to them, and you can imagine that word “equal” said with a dirty taste in the mouth. It seems the workers, and us, rely on systems of inequality in order to maintain our own sense of self-worth and value. Work is more than just earning a daily wage; it determines whether or not we are considered successful or a failure, superior or inferior. It is a source of division and competition[3]. And the landowner upsets the apple cart by showing generosity to everyone.

In my family, my brothers and I would jokingly compete for the title of “favorite child” with my parents. We used it as a tool of persuasion and a way to harass each other. It was a game to us most of the time, but also reflects a very real part of our nature to want to be the chosen one. That’s why this parable offends us so much I think. If the landowner, if God, is going to be extravagant and generous, why not towards us? We want to be the favorite children of God.

Here’s the thing- we are all “favorites”. In showing generosity to the other workers, the landowner wasn’t taking away from the first workers. He was simply adding to those who would be blessed. It’s not like God was giving out one pie, and dividing it into smaller and smaller pieces of pie because more people were there. Everyone was getting pie.

This parable reminds us that there is an ongoing tension between our sense of justice and fairness and our understanding of God’s radical and abundant grace. And it’s a story that plays out over and over again in our scriptures:

Jonah sat on the brow of the hill outside of Nineveh and pouted when God spared the city. The elder brother thought his father a doting old fool when his father invited him to join the celebrating at the prodigal’s return. The Pharisee at prayer thanks God that he is not like the sinful publican. Divine grace is a great equalizer which rips away presumed privilege and puts all recipients on a par[4].

Parables are meant to turn the mirror on us, and beg us to put ourselves in the story. No matter where we are in the payment line, this parable asks us to consider how we might respond to God’s grace, whether expected because of a relationship established long ago, or something that comes in the middle of the day or even at the last minute.

If we find that we are among the grumbles, this parable might just be calling us to check our privilege, and ask us why we are so guarded about others receiving the most basic daily needs. The landowner asks those who grumble to take a different perspective. The literal translation of the question he asks about envy reads “is your eye evil?” The struggle in the text isn’t about the transaction between the landowner and those later laborers. It’s about the struggle with the lens through which the original laborers are viewing the situation. Perhaps, if they can understand the true beauty of the grace shown to those they deem undeserving, they might realize that the same measure of unbelievable, unmerited, loving grace is what has been given to them all along as well.

Grace is something we talk about a lot, but never really know what to make of or what to do with it. Renowned Southern writer Flannery O’Conner wrestled with it in her fantastic short story titled “Revelation,” which details the scene of a well-to-do woman, Mrs. Turpin sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, passing deplorable judgment on those around her, not just in her head. After some time, a young woman finally explodes from the confines of her own chair and lunges after the protagonist, screaming that she is a “wart hog from hell.” The final moments bring Mrs. Turpin to consider what truth these words might be, even considering her charity to the less fortunate and church-going ways. She brings her wrestling to God. O’Conner writes:

What do you send me a message like that for?” She said in a low, fierce voice, barely above a whisper but with the force of a shout in its concentrated fury. “How am I a hog and me both? How am I saved and from hell too?[5]”

Such a moment calls attention to the ongoing need for us to examine ourselves, to realize that perhaps we aren’t really as deserving of the privileges we hold, and instead are completely reliant on God’s grace alone. Such a revelation on our part will bring about some hard questionings about our own priorities and opinions about others. It will mean we have hard work to do. It will cause us to push back. As O’Conner herself noted:

All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful[6].

But if we can get past our resistance, if we can get past the grumbling, we might just discover a better response to grace – gratitude. For what God gives to others, and for what God gives to us as well. That is what the parable is driving us towards.

And then, we can truly proclaim those words of the Psalmist that we called ourselves to worship with this morning:

The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.

That’s not fair! May we have the faith for that cry to shift from envy to joy. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 24, 2017

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[1] Patrick J. Willson, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 20:1-16,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).
[2] Patrick J. Willson
[3] Based on work by Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religions Reading, (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000), 394, as quoted in Charles Campbell, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 20:1-16,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlet and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[4] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, James D. Newsome, “Proper 20,’ Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).
[5] Flannery O’Conner, “Revelation,” http://producer.csi.edu/cdraney/archive-courses/summer06/engl278/e-texts/oconner_revelation.pdf
[6] Flannery O’Conner, as quoted by Skip Johnson, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 20:1-16,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

Sunday’s Sermon – The Hard Work of Forgiveness – Matthew 18:21-35

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What does it really mean to forgive someone? We often learn about it as a practice from a very young age, being taught from a very young age to say “I’m sorry,” and then “It’s ok. I forgive you” when something happens that hurts another person. But, as we get older and life gets more complicated, we discover there is far more to it than your cart bumping into someone else at the grocery store or even taking someone else’s toy away in the sandbox. The truth is that life sometimes hurts; not just in general, but in specific, tangible ways that cause us real harm, emotionally, mentally, and even physically. And when we are hurt, or when someone we love is injured, forgiveness is often the farthest thing from our first response. Sure, we hear the countless instructions to forgive, but when it comes down to putting them into practice, we balk. Perhaps because we don’t quite know what forgiveness really looks like, or how exactly we are to go about it.

That essentially is the question Peter is asking Jesus at the onset of today’s gospel lesson. His suggestion of seven times is no accident – that is the biblical signifier of what is complete or perfect. Peter, not surprisingly, wants to get it right. He’s not asking the Rabbi what the bare minimum requirement is to pass the class; Peter wants to ace the exam with a perfect score. Jesus replies, though, with an astronomical figure – seventy-times seven. This isn’t just math to get him to the number 490. It is the response that forgiveness requires something even beyond perfection. Let that sink in for a minute. The goal is the perfection of perfection; infinity times infinity. As Lewis Donelson puts it:

it must be beyond counting. Forgiveness becomes an absolute[i].

No wonder we have such a hard time doing it! However, there is hope in this initial response from Jesus; he indicates that forgiveness is not so much about a check-list or sticker chart or final exam, but instead is about ongoing discipleship. Put another way, forgiveness must become a way of life.

One illustration of this can be seen in the Amish community. Typically,  when we think about the Amish, our first images are of buggies, quilts, jams, and barn-raisings, or perhaps what we’ve gleaned from a reality television series; but an even better marker of Amish life and culture is seen in their practice of faith.

Amish people are likely to say that they are simply trying to be obedient to Jesus Christ, who commanded his followers to do so many peculiar things, such as love, bless, and forgive their enemies. This is not a picture of Amish life that can easily be reproduced on a postcard from Amish Country; in fact, it can be painted only in the grit and grim of daily life[ii].

Almost 11 years ago, on October 2, 2006, tragedy came to Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania as a gunman entered the local school, leading to a hostage situation that killed five schoolgirls and left five others seriously wounded.  It was a devastating time that rocked this small, close-knit community and brought about intense media coverage at the time. Almost as shocking as the violence, though, was the response from the families and community of the victims.

Even as outsiders were responding with compassion for the Amish community in the wake of the shooting, the Amish themselves were doing another kind of work. Softly, subtly, and quietly, they were beginning the difficult task of forgiveness. . . . Within a few hours of the shooting, some Amish people were already reaching out to the killer’s family[iii].

Some went to find the gunman’s wife, children, and extended family, offering words of sympathy and love and forgiveness. As cameras and bright lights shone in field interviews and questions came from tv hosts, the refrain was similar: the Amish insisted that they forgave the gunman almost immediately. A few days later, the community showed up at the gunman’s funeral, and even reached out with financial support for his family. Several weeks later they met with his wife and other members of his family at a local firehouse. In each of these, and the relationship-building instances that followed, the Amish community modeled an authentic and powerful witness of what forgiveness looks like. It almost sounds too good to be true; inconceivable to even those who consider themselves faithful Christians.

In response, a trio of professors worked to explore more about the notion of forgiveness and grace in the Amish community and the implications for the rest of us, interviewing dozens of Amish people from Nickel Mines and beyond.  They shared this work in a book titled Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, which inspired a Lifetime Movie a few years later. It’s worth a read or view as we consider our own theological understanding of forgiveness. One of their underlying questions was, given the importance of forgiveness in the Christian tradition,:

Did the keen public interest in the grace of the Amish stem from the fact that their forgiveness differed from other understanding of forgiveness, or did it arise from the Amish community’s willingness to practice what others only preach?[iv]

As they spoke with the Amish about forgiveness, they found a strong rooting in the community’s belief that forgiveness was an expectation for what it means to follow Jesus Christ. The most prominent citation given from scripture was the parable we read today from Matthew 18, often known as the parable of the unforgiving or unmerciful servant. It is a parable of extremes. Just as Peter and Jesus used big, epic terms in their exchange in the preceding verses, Jesus introduces characters with larger-than-life debts and responses. The concept of ten thousand talents was astronomical. Both “ten thousand” and “talent” were words that were the biggest units in Greek at the time. It would be akin to saying “a million bajillion” or some other inconceivable number. The amount that the servant owed was absurd. The concept of a master forgiving that amount of debt? Also absurd. Thus, the illustration shows a measure of grace in abundance. It is a seventy-times-seven kind of forgiveness of debt. In contrast, of course, is the response of the servant to the one who owes him a debt, comparatively miniscule at only a hundred denarii (a number you could wrap your head around – a denarii is a day’s labor). While we might expect a repeat of the grace exhibited to him, instead we see quite the opposite. And the lord summons the servant to make it clear that this isn’t how it works. Mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, necessitates the same.

“To err is human; to forgive, divine.” These well-known words from the English poet Alexander Pope strike many as the right way to think about forgiveness: as something good but almost impossible to do[v].

In the face of tragedy, and other instances of loss and pain both intentional and accidental, the Amish seem to do the impossible. As the professors discovered in their research, it is largely because, for the Amish, forgiveness is a way of life. It is some of what marks them as a community, and is practiced in smaller ways, which makes the practice of it on such epic levels not as outlandish as it may seem. This fits with the understanding of the pattern that Jesus gave to Peter, a repeated, ongoing forgiveness, seventy-times-seven, might lead to an embodiment of it even in the most trying of circumstances. In order to embody this radical way of living, it might be good to try to name what exactly forgiveness is.

Forgiveness, on its most basic level, is a letting go. Many offer that it is a choice that we make, regardless of remorse shown. It is both psychological and social; it happens both internally within ourselves and externally as we engage with other people. Presbyterian minister, writer, and retreat leader Marjorie Thompson writes:

To forgive is to make a conscious choice to release the person who has wounded us from the sentence of our judgment, however justified that judgment may be. It represents a choice to leave behind our resentment and desire for retribution, however fair such punishment may seem. . . Forgiveness means the power of the original wound’s power to hold us trapped is broken[vi].

Forgiveness is freeing, for more than just the one who might receive it. It is freeing for the one who does the forgiving. The benefits continue, too. Research shows that:

forgiveness is good for the person who offers it, reducing “anger, depression, anxiety, and fear” and affording “cardiovascular and immune system benefits.[vii]”

But, as with most things that are ultimately good for us, it’s often not the most attractive option unless we make efforts for it to become our pattern. Our nature seems to be to get sucked into our own anger and the need for revenge to settle the score. Such an attitude breeds resentment, which is when we re-live that anger over and over again. Incidentally, that’s one of the signs that you haven’t really forgiven – if you are re-living all of those emotions over and over again. Forgiveness calls for a release of those things that bind us. This is what makes it such a theologically important concept – when we let go of that resentment and anger and relinquish the grudges we have, we open up space – space to experience all of the other emotions present in our lives; space to experience grief if we need to grieve, joy and hope the in promises of a brighter tomorrow, and time to work through other things that prevent us from living the lives God intends for us. Most of all, forgiveness offers us the space to experience God’s grace and love more fully.

Let me be clear, though: forgiveness is not just “getting over it.” It is not pretending that some wrong did not occur or forgetting that it happened or acting like the harm done is ok by condoning or excusing it. And it most certainly does not mean putting ourselves in positions where we continue to subject ourselves to harm. “Seventy-times-seven” is not meant to be a number of times which anyone must endure abuse at the hands of another. Rather, forgiveness is naming the offense and declaring that it should not be repeated. Forgiveness is also declaring that the offense will no longer take hold in our lives any more. Forgiveness proclaims that mercy is what will define us.

I think that’s what Jesus was hoping for in his conversation with Peter and the following parable; that the lives of his disciples would be marked by mercy. That’s the example we find in the story of Joseph from Genesis, who even in the face of immense pain – his brothers’ violence and selling him into slavery – would not let pain or violence be what defined him. Forgiveness can certainly open the door to reconciliation and the restoring of relationships. In the instance of the tragedy in Nickel Mines, it did just that, as the community came together and continued to be in relationship with the gunman’s family, who they saw as victims as well. Such a move, though, can only come with a renewal of trust, which may not always be possible. If you aren’t able to get to that point of reconciliation, right now, or ever, that is ok. Focus your work on that of forgiveness – it may be more than enough for you to handle.  Even the Amish admitted that it was hard, excruciating work, repeating the refrain:

“We try to forgive, but we are human too.[viii]”

Forgiveness calls attention to our humanness at its most human. It reduces us to our most base of instincts, and challenges us with the hard work of responding in the way of Christ instead. Examples like that of the Amish, or the lessons taught by Jesus, can be daunting. They are big. Larger than seems possible. But we need such big images to begin to wrap our heads around the nature of God. And such seemingly unreachable examples might just be what we need to begin to take even a little step in the direction forgiveness calls. One opportunity at a time, then seven, then seventy times seven. May we, little by little, move more into the ways of God’s mercy. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

September 17, 2017

———————————————————————————————————[i] Lewis R. Donelson, “Exegetical Perspective: Matthew 18:21-35,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011)

[ii] Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2007).

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Ibid.

[vi] Marjorie J. Thompson, “Moving toward Forgiveness,” Weavings, March-April 1992, 19, as quoted by Charlotte Dudley Cleghorn, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 18:21-35,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011)

[vii] Clinical research of Psychologists Robert D. Enright and Everett L. Worthington Jr., as reported in Amish Grace.

[viii] Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2007).

Sunday’s Sermon: The Law of Love – Romans 13:8-10, Psalm 119:33-40

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How many of you would say you “love” the law, or at least rules? Are you sticklers for things like speed limits? Does it make you crazy when people are turning left at the intersection and don’t pass each other first, or don’t take turns at a 4-way stop? What about when watching sports? Do you find yourself explaining or arguing with other fans about technicalities, or try to beat the referees to the call? Rules and laws are something that we tend to have decided opinions on, sometimes strong ones, or at least deeply engrained behaviors, such as what speed we will travel in relation to the speed limit.  Admittedly, I am on one of the rule followers. I like structure and boundaries and order in my life and in the world around me. It makes me a good Presbyterian, with our detailed polity and systems and procedures. Rules and regulations bring me a sense of comfort and security. While I am absolutely willing to push back against rules that I don’t agree with, that generally also takes the form of following the system to change the rule, rather than just outright rebellion. When those around me aren’t following the same set of rules, I feel anxious and irritated. Yes, I’m the person that mentally counts items the person in front of me has in the 10 items or less line if it looks like it’s getting close. It would be fair to say that I love rules.

So does the Psalmist. The Psalmist writes a beautiful prayer about delighting and loving the law of the Lord. Such an ode to God’s instructions is comprehensive. At 176 verses, it is the longest chapter in the entire Bible. The verses assigned to us today from the lectionary cycle emphasize one of its major themes; the joy of following the commandments God has given, naming them as life-giving and uplifting. This is an acrostic Psalm, meaning each of the 22 stanzas (of 8 verses each) begins with a different letter, in Hebrew from Aleph to Tav, in English it would be from A to Z. Perhaps it could have been used to teach. One traditional legend in the Orthodox church, who actively uses this Psalm regularly even  suggests that King David used this Psalm to teach Solomon not just the alphabet, but an alphabet for the spiritual life. The Psalmist does a pretty good job in laying out the importance of the Torah, the sacred law of God’s people Israel. Verse 97 flat out says “Oh, how I love your law!” The Psalm is a beautiful poetic homage to God’s power and role as teacher, and gives us a clue as to how we are to relate to God as well. Verse 105 reads: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (verse 105).  The Psalm reminds us that one of the purposes for God’s laws is to have relationship with how we live our lives. If we truly love God, and love the instructions that God gives, we will live into them, with God’s help.

The Apostle Paul had a lot of ideas about how that looked in the first century, and his writings can help inspire us today, to consider how we are applying those ancient laws captured in our sacred texts to the world we know. Throughout his letters, Paul wrestles with what to make of the law in light of the grace shown in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. He wants to be clear that the early church understands that their actions are not going to be what makes the difference to their salvation – it’s the grace of God that does that. Nevertheless, though, what they do does matter. Repeatedly he calls God’s people to live in ways authentic to the faith they profess. This is especially true in his letter to the Romans. Our text today from Romans 13 is the heart of Paul’s treatise on Christian ethics, the integration of life and faith. David Bartlett offers that:

Roman 1-11 spells out the first part of the commandment: “How do we love God with heart, mind, soul, and strength?” Clue: have faith in Jesus. [Then,] Romans 12-14 shows the various ways in which we live out the second part: Love your neighbor as you love yourself. The summary is itself good news[i].

In these verses, Paul emphasizes a well-known refrain, made clear in Leviticus (19:18) and by Jesus himself with the giving of the Greatest Commandment (Matthew 22:36-40). If there is only one thing that we are to remember about how we are to live it should be this: the law of love. This is the identity marker for us as Christians, what makes us who we are.

It is easy to misinterpret this law. Our first inclination is to get wrapped up in the Hollywood and Hallmark illustrations of a saccharine-sweet and unrealistic set of amorous feelings for the whole world. We treat love as an emotion, something we’re just supposed to feel, that makes us all smiley and happy because, well, we just love everyone. Sometimes, this becomes a hypothetical ideal that we can never really achieve, much like a notion of “world peace.” But Paul doesn’t mean for it to be inaccessible. He uses the Greek word agape for love in this passage, which is not the kind of doe-eyed mushy stuff sense of love. Rather, it is a love that is related to doing things for the benefit of another person, an unselfish concern for others and willingness to seek the best for them. In Paul’s instructions, the law of love, he is calling for love that has tangible signs. It is:

the difficult task of real love for real people who are met in everyday life, not theoretical love for humanity as a whole[ii].

For Paul, love is about action, not just emotion. Love needs to be a verb, THE verb, for how we live as those who delight in God’s law and seek to fulfill it.

Right now in our world, I think LOVE is what is at stake, and how we respond to it will make all the difference. As those who believe in the life-changing power of the love of God through Jesus Christ, we have to live like it matters. We have to follow the law of love. And in times when love is threatened or challenged, that is even more important.

Just over a year ago, in the wake of the senseless and heartbreaking attack on PULSE nightclub in Orlando, Florida, one Tony Award winning speech broke through some of the darkness with words of light. Lin-Manuel Miranda, a composer, lyricist, playwright and actor, won several awards for his creative work in Hamilton, including Best Score. Take a moment to see how he thanked and inspired the crowd [start video clip around 1:40]:

[I’m not freestyling. I’m too old. I wrote you a sonnet instead.

My wife’s the reason anything gets done.
She nudges me towards promise by degrees.
She is a perfect symphony of one.
Our son is her most beautiful reprise.
We chase the melodies that seem to find us
Until they’re finished songs and start to play.
When senseless acts of tragedy remind us
That nothing here is promised, not one day
This show is proof that history remembers.
We live through times when hate and fear seem stronger.
We rise and fall, and light from dying embers
Remembrances that hope and love last longer.
And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love;
Cannot be killed or swept aside.
I sing Vanessa’s symphony; Eliza tells her story.
Now fill the world with music, love, and pride.
Thank you so much for this]

In the face of struggle and tragedy, love is what is going to make the difference.  Love is what brings us together in community with each other. “Love does no wrong to a neighbor,” Paul writes (Romans 13:10). It’s not a trick we have to figure out. Look around you. Those are your neighbors. Think about another person, another group, as far away as you can imagine. Those are also your neighbors. All of God’s children are your neighbors. That means everybody. So, wherever we are, there will always be neighbors around, and with them there will be countless opportunities for us to embody the law of love.

You can do it here in our Sanctuary – consider our youngest worshipping neighbors, the ones who sit on the steps with me each week. Love is being the body of Christ to them, and not just saying they are welcome here, but creating a space in our Sanctuary for them in the PRAYground where they can engage in worship in meaningful ways to them. Love is greeting them, passing the peace, asking them what they learned about God today, or even what they might teach you. The law of love means that everything we do in relation to our children in this place comes from love- our love of them, our desire of them to know God’s love through us and through hymns and scriptures and sermons and communion, and most of all, our hope that they will develop a love for Jesus here.

Opportunities for practicing the love abound for our lawmakers. Right now, they face the monumental task of working together across party lines to address critical issues of immigration for those who arrived in our country as children. They are charged with financial decisions about debt ceilings that impact aid given to hurricane flooding victims and countless other programs. We need to pray for their conversations to be filled with love so that they can work together, and that love will infuse their decisions. And we need to act, to encourage our representatives to create rules and regulations and systems that practice the law of love for our neighbors.

And the law of love is already at work in many places.

The law of love is up the hill – as cars drove through our parking lot yesterday and were filled with produce for the mobile food pantry. As donations of clothing are examined and tagged and displayed as a store-like shopping experience to bring dignity to those in need.

The law of love is in Texas. Do you know about the Louisiana Cajun Navy? (https://www.facebook.com/LaCajunNavy/) It’s an informal, ad-hoc volunteer group of private boat owners who assist in search and rescue efforts. They formed in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and resurfaced last year after flooding in Louisiana. Two weeks ago, they lined the highways heading towards Texas with bass boats, johnboats, air boats, and other shallow-draft craft that can navigate flood waters to bring relief and rescue. The motto on their facebook reads “We the people of Louisiana refuse to stand by and wait for help in the wake of disasters in our State. We rise up and unite and rescue our neighbors!” A similar sense of fellowship is happening here in Georgia, as those from the coast evacuated up 75 and find welcome and shelter.

The law of love is in the responses of the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, too, not just in Texas and those in the path of Irma, but in other places impacted by flooding, including the South Sudan, Sierra Leone, Madagascar, Malawi, Columbia, and Peru. PDA’s work also extends beyond natural disasters, providing relief and support to refugees, war-torn places, those struggling with famine and hunger and more. Our fish banks and offerings to One Great Hour of Sharing at Easter help support these ministries, and there may be opportunities coming for us to take part in their relief efforts.

This is what fulfilling the law of God looks like. It’s not rigid and legalistic, stuffy or boring; it’s engaging and active, alive and full. It is love as a verb. In big and small ways, there are moments where you can practice this kind of love, a love of action, that actively promotes the well-being and good of another person. Any other person. When we love our neighbors, we fulfill the most core aspect of the law by which God intends we live. And when that happens, I think it’s more than just us who are delighted. God is as well. May it be so. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 10, 2017

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[i] David L. Bartlett, “Homiletical Perspective: Romans 13:8-14,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[ii] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Proper 18,” Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).

Food Pantry

Food distribution is scheduled the 1st Saturday of the month at 10:00 am and the 3rd Wednesday of the month at 12:30 pm.

The next Drive-Up Food Pantry is scheduled for Wednesday, June 18th at 12:30 am.  Accurate pre-registration is strongly encouraged to ensure volunteers pack accordingly.
Please sign- up here!

For other pantry locations, go here
or text “FINDFOOD” to 888-976-2232

Church News

Volunteers are needed to help pack family boxes on Monday, June 16th at 10 am in the Fellowship Hall. We welcome all volunteers.  

Food Pantry distribution volunteer opportunity Wednesday, June 18th registration here!

Worship Live Streaming and archives can be found by clicking the appropriate link under the worship tab.

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Upcoming Events

Worship

Sunday Schedule

9:00 AM
Responding in Faith Sunday School Class
     via Zoom with Barbara Jessee

9:15 AM
Bible University Sunday School Class
    with Dr. Tom Scott
Hybrid format (in-person & via Zoom)

Connections Sunday School Class
with Mark Bixler
Hybrid format (in-person & via Zoom)

Youth Bible Study (returns in August)
6- 12th grade

Kids Club – (returns in August)
Biblically-based Faith Formation Activities for Preschool – 5th Grade
Praise Kids Music on the 3rd Sunday of the month.

10:30 AM
In-Person Worship and Livestreamed via   YouTube.

Youth Group – the first and third Sunday of the month from 5-7 pm during the school year. (returns in August)