2-16-14: Sermon on the Mount, Part 3: The Law of Jesus

Sermon on the Mount, Part 3: The Law of Jesus

 

Matthew 5: 21-37 (NRSV)

You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.

It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

 

 

This week we’re continuing with the Sermon on the Mount, from exactly where we left off last week. And I’m willing to argue that this particular section of the Sermon on the Mount might be the hardest for us to hear—especially those of us that don’t like having to follow rules.

Really, this week’s lectionary-appointed portion of the Sermon on the Mount is all about “the rules”. The phrase of this week is “You have heard that it was said.” He says some version of that four times in this week’s Gospel lesson, followed closely by the phrase, “…but I say to you.”

“You have heard that it was said.” Said by whom, Jesus? Well, Jesus doesn’t give us an answer for this question, but it’s mostly because the people listening to him, his twelve disciples, didn’t have to ask. His disciples, all Jewish men, knew exactly “who said” these phrases that Jesus quotes to them. All these quotes are coming from the Torah. To us sitting here, that’s called the Pentateuch, or the first five books of the Old Testament—Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. To Jesus’ disciples, “Torah” is a very familiar Hebrew word that means “Law”. What law? The Law. The Law of Moses. Those many, many, many laws that are laid out for us to read in those very books that we call the Pentateuch. Those Laws that Moses dictated to his people, the Hebrews, after his sacred conversation on Mount Sinai with God.

I’m telling you that this can be a very difficult section of the Sermon on the Mount to read or hear if you don’t especially like hearing rules spelled out to you. For Jesus’ twelve disciples, this part of the Sermon on the Mount was equally hard to hear, for exactly the opposite reason—because they loved their rules. That is to say, they loved their Law.

In our modern minds, it can be really hard to wrap our heads around this. Sure, we’re familiar with the Ten Commandments, and perhaps can name them, but how familiar are we with the rest of the many, many laws laid out in the Pentateuch? My guess is not very.

But Jesus’ very devout disciples were well versed in their Hebrew Scriptures, and knew the Law of Moses. More than that, the Law was incredibly important to them. It was revealed to Moses, their great ancestor. The one who delivered their people out of Egypt and to the Promised Land, the one that God chose to be the first leader of their people. The one who conversed with the Lord himself.

Even the disciples, Jesus’ closest companions and dedicated followers, would have to be thinking right about now: Who does this man think he is? What kind of man is this, who presumes to change the Law of Moses?

But, rest assured, disciples of then and today: Jesus told his disciples in verse seventeen, from the portion we heard last week, that he came neither to change nor abolish the Law. Rather, he came to fulfill the Law. Up to this point, Jesus’ Jewish friends and neighbors had followed the Law of Moses. From now on, they’d be following a richer, more complete Law: the Law of Jesus.

Well that’s great, Pastor Natalie, but it still doesn’t make these words of Jesus any easier to hear—or follow. And if you feel a little hesitant or reluctant hearing this morning’s Gospel lesson, you’re right. And honestly if you didn’t react that way, you really should.

Because these aren’t like any other rules, or like our own laws. Frankly, some of the Law of Jesus doesn’t make a lot of sense, even to those who may have heard these verses many, many times over the years. And even if you think you totally follow Jesus through all these verses, if you’re being honest with yourself you must be thinking, Well that’s great in theory, Jesus, but no real person could ever live up to these expectations.

Just consider Jesus’ first new Law. He tells us:

You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.

Let’s think about what we just heard there. “You shall not murder”. Alright, no argument there, great law. But we can’t even be angry? And we can never resort to put-downs? Ever? Not even when we’re driving and some other guy cuts us off? Really Jesus? I understand that’s not model behavior, but it really seems like there’s way worse things that could come out of your mouth in a moment of anger than “You fool.”

Well, if this sounds unreasonable, understand first of all that it is. It’s not just those of us in this room that couldn’t live up to these words—Jesus himself couldn’t live up to these words. Not all the time. Anybody remember that time that Jesus confronted the money changers in the Temple, and called them robbers and flipped over all their tables? I’m no expert here, but I think he just might have been a little bit angry that day. Or what about all the times that the Pharisees confronted him? Sure, he handled those encounters well, but he wasn’t always exactly cordial. One time he even outright snarled at them and said, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” I think he was a little angry that day, too. And, come to think of it, I’m not so sure calling a group of people “hypocrites” is any better than calling one person a “fool”.

If you weren’t convinced before, then be convinced now: Jesus was fully God, and fully human. And humans have feelings. Anger is one of those feelings. It’s a reaction we experience to what’s going on around us. It’s our mind telling us something is very wrong here.

So we need to change the way we think of “laws”, or “rules”. A lot of us don’t like rules because we don’t like the idea of someone telling us what to do. We especially don’t like the idea of someone telling us what we can’t do. When we think about rules, we think about what they have to do with our actions, or our behavior—what can we do?

The Law of Moses made a lot of sense to the Jewish people for exactly that reason—it was all about a person’s choice of actions. It was a very long but clear list of what a person could and could not do. Perhaps not easy to memorize, but easy enough to understand and follow.

But the Law of Jesus is different. Because Jesus wasn’t as concerned as Moses about your choice of behavior. Rather, Jesus was concerned about the consequences for your behavior.

The Law of Moses gave exactly what the Hebrew people needed at the time. It was for a people that weren’t ready to hear out a man like Jesus—they were just getting used to life as a people freed from slavery, and they were struggling in the wilderness, trying to find their place.

Thousands of years later, Jesus’ followers were finally ready to hear what Moses’ followers couldn’t. And today, two thousand years after Jesus, we’re mature enough to know and hear the whole truth.

And the whole truth is this: in the real world, you’ll get angry sometimes. In an imperfect world, you’ll hear people swear and make promises they can’t keep. In our imperfect world, you’ll meet people who did get divorced. In our world, sometimes bad things happen, and we need to do the best we can to cope, and that might mean making one less-than-desirable choice, in favor of a better outcome. And, in the real world, some people practice bad behavior all the time, and have enough luck to get away with it.

We’re not perfect. In this time, in this place, we can’t be, and we shouldn’t be. But what Jesus teaches us this morning is that even when we’re not perfect, we’re smart enough to know that all of our actions have consequences.

We’re smart enough to know that it might not be the worst thing in the world to call someone a name, or throw out an insult when we’re mad, but that if we chose to watch our tempers and show just a little restraint, we might hurt each other less. We’re smart enough to know that we shouldn’t have to “swear” anything—if we respected each other enough, and spoke with enough integrity, then our friends and loved ones would be able to trust without any fancy language that we mean what we say. We’re smart enough to know that our romantic relationships are a gift from God, and we should take them seriously, and treat our partners with respect.

We can’t maintain this kind of conduct all the time, and Jesus knew that. He knew, and knows, that we aren’t perfect. But God’s Son set the bar very high for us because God loves us that much. And by our actions, even our simple ones, we might see better consequences—we might see a world that looks even just a little bit more like the Kingdom of God.

Amen.

2-23-14: Sermon on the Moun, Part 4: Fighting Back

Sermon on the Mount, Part 4: Fighting Back

 

Matthew 5: 38-48 (NRSV)

You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

 

Friends, in the old days you have heard that it was said, “Fight fire with fire.”

But I say to you, Love.

You have also heard that it was said in years past, “Don’t get mad, get even.”

But I say to you, Love. And be wise.

In this morning’s Gospel message, we hear Jesus’ famous words on how to deal with an “evildoer”. But, in our modern vernacular, let’s substitute “evildoer” for “bully”, and know that the message is timeless: how to fight back to a bully.

I read way ahead in this year’s lectionary-appointed Gospel texts, because I knew that it was just about time for this particular lesson to make an appearance, and I wanted to know exactly when I would get to deliver this message. Not just because I’ve preached on this text before, and love preaching on this text, but because I feel a very great deal of pastoral responsibility related to this particular Gospel lesson.

This morning, we hear Jesus advising his disciples on how to deal with the “bullies” of their day. It’s a beautiful and powerful message, but over the centuries that beautiful message has gotten lost and mangled in translation, and the consequence has been generations of faithful Christians reading the words “turn the other cheek”, and believing that Jesus is telling us that if someone is hurting you, that if someone is threatening you, that you shouldn’t make any effort at all to defend or protect yourself—that you should just let them. Generations of faithful Christians have believed that if they want to follow Jesus’ words, then they need to be doormats for abuse.

This, as a pastor, and as a faithful woman, breaks my heart. The man who flipped over the money changers’ tables in the Temple to defend his exploited neighbors was not a doormat. The man who invited twelve peasants to leave their worldly goods behind and come with him to start a spiritual revolution was not a doormat. The man who refused to recant his message that he was the Son of God and King of the Jews, willing to die to proclaim the Word, was not a doormat. And if this man lived his earthly life as the most glorious of rebels for the sake of saving us from the evils of the earth, then why would he want us, his beloved followers, to succumb to the powers of that evil? This man did not teach us to submit to our bullies. Rather, this man taught us how to fight back with the greatest force on all of heaven and earth: love. Love for yourself, knowing that no one has the right to hurt you, love for your Creator, who made you strong and able, and love even for your bully, who could still see the light if you show it to him.

But, in order for us to understand Jesus’ radical message of love, we need to first understand what he really meant when he said, “turn the other cheek”. I’m going to teach you about this Gospel lesson the same way my chaplain in college did, based on the teachings of Biblical scholar Walter Wink, and I’ve asked my dear, dutiful husband to help me, because in order to really understand what Jesus is talking about here, you need to see this acted out.

Let’s say Sean was here, being a Jewish, working-class man, minding his own business, and all the sudden, I, this bully, come along.

First, you need to understand this: if what you imagined is me clobbering Sean, that’s not the situation that Jesus is describing to us. That’s actually physically impossible based on what the text says. Jesus isn’t talking about a situation where someone like me comes along and attacks someone like Sean. Jesus is talking about a single hit—a strike to the right cheek.

The next thing you need to understand is that this is a right-handed society. Absolutely everything that is done in public is done with your right hand, regardless of which of your hands happens to be stronger. The Jewish Purity Code, laid out in the Old Testament, demands this. So, if I’m striking Sean on his right cheek, and if I have to use only one hand, my right hand, to do it, then there’s really only one way I can possibly hit him—a back-handed slap.

Now, maybe that hurt, but that’s really not the point here. A back-handed slap was, and is, humiliating. Back-handed slaps, especially in this day, were a deeply degrading insult. It’s the way that a master hit his slaves. It’s also the way that a Roman soldier would hit a Jewish peasant. By hitting Sean this way, I’m telling him, and everyone who saw, that he is beneath me and he needs to get back in his place.

Anyone in this room who’s ever been insulted before can imagine how Sean must feel right now—deeply angry. And his Law, the Law of Moses, the Law that says “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”, teaches him that he should respond by turning around and hitting me back. But where’s that going to get him? It will only escalate a situation that’s already bad enough.

So Jesus tells Sean, don’t resist me. Don’t hit me back. Instead do one simple thing: turn your head.

This might not look significant, but this subtle gesture is actually huge. Sean has just totally stopped me in my tracks. With this simple, non-violent gesture, Sean has now just issued me an ultimatum. I can’t hit him with the back of my right hand anymore, because now he’s facing the wrong way. I can’t use my left hand, and if I do, I’m violating the Purity Code and humiliating myself. I only have two choices left: I either need to stop hurting him, give up, and walk away, or, if I insist that I have to hit him again, that I have to have the last word, then I need to either slap him with the front of my hand, or punch him with my fist. And yes, that might hurt, too, but if I do that, me, Sean, and everyone else watching will understand that that is the way you hit an equal. I will have taken back the degrading insult I just gave him, and, no matter what, Sean will have restored his dignity.

The next two pieces of advice that Jesus gives his disciples are similar. Jesus says, “…if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well.” Here’s what you need to understand: the typical dress for a man in that society involved wearing two layers of clothing—a thin sheath against your skin that was called a coat, or a tunic, and a heavy outer garment, called a cloak. If you were very poor, you might not own anything but just these two pieces of clothing. And if you were buried in debt that you couldn’t repay, Jewish Law allowed that your creditor could take your lighter, inner garment, your coat, as collateral. What Jesus says here is that if your creditor is so greedy that he would literally take the shirt off your back in court, then why stop there? Give him all your clothes! Give him what he wanted, and then some that he didn’t ask for.

This might sound like you’re submitting to your bully, but that’s not the case here. Jewish Law was very clear that to view the nakedness of another man was deeply shameful—much more shameful than being naked yourself—and that it was especially shameful, and worthy of ridicule, to cause a man to be naked. What Jesus is telling his disciples to do is to call such a man out on his greed. Hold him accountable for what he has done. And let anyone who’s there to witness see how far such a man has gone in his greed.

Lastly, Jesus tells his disciples, “…if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.” Jesus is using rather vague language here, but his disciples knew exactly what he was talking about because he was referring to a very common practice. Roman soldiers, who occupied Palestine at the time Jesus lived, were allowed to pull local civilians off the road, and force them to carry all their gear for them for a whole mile. Jewish men deeply resented this practice. It would pull them away from their own labors, and they would be forced to carry upwards of 60 pounds of weight while a Roman soldier treated them as nothing more than a pack mule. And then they would have to walk back to what they were doing, exhausted and humiliated.

But here’s the catch: that Roman soldier could only force that civilian to carry his load for one mile. If the civilian walked even one step further than that, that soldier would be violating orders, and subject to punishment by his next higher-up, a Centurion, and the Centurion would be allowed to punish the soldier however he wanted to. No soldier would risk this punishment.

So Jesus is telling his disciples: next time a Roman soldier forces you to carry his gear for him, don’t resist, take it. Then when you get to the end of that mile, and the soldier asks for his gear back, tell him, Oh no, that’s okay, I’m fine, let’s keep going! Then that soldier will see how quickly the tables are turned. Jesus’ disciples could just chuckle at the idea of a Roman soldier, who was so full of himself 20 minutes ago, now chasing a peasant down the road, begging him to give him his gear back.

The point is this—there will always be bullies. You can’t stop that. There will always be people who degrade and humiliate you just because they can. There will always be people who pick on someone weaker or less powerful than them so they can feel better about themselves. And someday someone will bully you.

But if you respond to their behavior, to their taunting, to their insults, by turning around and trying to hurt them the same way, or by finding someone else that you can pick on, than you’ll only be stooping to their level and you’ll become a bully yourself. But if you resist the urge to get even, to fight fire with fire; if instead you respond with love, you can save yourself, and maybe even your bully, too.

Jesus told us to love our enemies, to love and pray for those who would persecute us. Love is about more than romance; it’s about more than just sentimental, fluttery feelings.

Love is about seeing the absolute, precious worth of every person. Love is about seeing in you a person who deserves more than to be bullied. Love is about looking into the eyes of someone who’s trying to put you down, and seeing, in spite of their behavior, that that person, too, is a precious child of God.

Love, most of all, holds us all accountable for our actions. Love commends the work of one who has done well, but makes the bully see the consequences of his or her actions. Love makes your adversary stand face to face with who they have become, and offers them a better future. Love says to your adversary, Your actions are unacceptable. And love says, even to your adversary, There’s still grace for you. There’s still time for you to be a better person.

When we hold one another accountable for our sins, for all the ways we have bullied others, and even ourselves, then we give one another a true chance at redemption. That is how a follower of Jesus fights back.

May it be so.

Amen.

In writing this sermon, I referenced the works of Biblical scholar Walter Wink. You can read his work on this topic at this link: http://www.cpt.org/files/BN%20-%20Jesus%27%20Third%20Way.pdf . Special thanks to the Rev. Dr. Laurie Tiberi for directing me to this article.

2-9-14: Sermon on the Mount, Part 2: Salt and Light

Sermon on the Mount Part 2: Salt and Light

 

Matthew 5: 13-20 (NRSV)

You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but it thrown out and trampled under foot.

You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

 

This week I found my sermon-inspiration from a rather unexpected place.

You see, I almost always plan the rest of our Sunday worship service before I write the sermon. Time wise, that’s just how it works out. I pick out the hymns first, and save those, and then a little later in the week I plug this week’s hymns into the format that I use for our bulletins. Then I plug in this week’s scripture readings. Then I come up with a call to worship, usually based on our lectionary-appointed Psalm. Then one of the last things I do, before the bulletin is all ready to get printed and copied, is find a prayer to use as our “Prayer for Illumination”

This week I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to use for that prayer. Sometimes I pick our “Prayer for Illumination” out of the hymnal, so this week I decided to just thumb through it and see if anything spoke to me. Once I got past the ones that are really only appropriate for Christmas and Easter, my eyes landed on the one we just read together.

Of course, I recognized it immediately when I saw it printed in our hymnal, and I knew most of you probably would, too. That prayer is commonly called the “Serenity Prayer.” It’s been used by Christians of all denominations, it’s been set to music, quoted in popular culture, and recited faithfully by the members of Alcoholics Anonymous since the early 1940s. Chances are if you’re familiar with any classic or commonly used prayers, you’re familiar with this one.

I did just a little bit of homework on the “Serenity Prayer” after I found it in our hymnal. Since, like I told you, I tend to print and copy our bulletins before I write the sermon, I found later that I actually made one mistake when I copied the “Serenity Prayer” into your bulletin—it’s not anonymous. The hymnal says that, but the prayer as we know it was actually penned by a 20^th Century theologian by the name of Reinhold Niebuhr.

In his lifetime, Niebuhr wasn’t able to pin down exactly when he first wrote this prayer, and neither have his children since he passed away in 1971. But we’re pretty sure that the one sentence that we commonly see and hear, and that we spoke together this morning, is a small part of a longer prayer by Niebuhr. The full-length version of that original prayer goes like this:

God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed,

courage to change the things which should be changed,

and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.

 Living one day at a time,

enjoying one moment at a time,

accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,

taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it,

trusting that You will make all things right, if I surrender to your will,

so that I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen.

 

This is the path to peace. This is the path that Jesus taught us. And I realized, while I was putting together my thoughts for a sermon this week, that the one-sentence version that we prayed before, that we’ve heard before, speaks to what Jesus commands of his followers in his sermon on the mount—particularly the piece of it that the lectionary appoints for us to hear today.

Because Jesus said: we are the salt of the earth, and we are the light of the world.

And in order to live up to those words, we need to be a force of change for that which we cannot accept.

But why these two images—salt and light?

It’s interesting that while I was preparing this week’s worship service, I could find lots of Biblically-inspired works (songs, poetry, prayers, etc) using the image of light, but not much on this image of salt.

Now that there’s a little container of it on your table at any restaurant you ever go to, now that you can buy it by the bag-full at any convenience store when you’re out, now that we throw it on the ground to do something as simple as melt the ice on our sidewalk—we don’t see salt the way Jesus’ first century disciples did. In Jesus’ day, salt was rare, and incredibly valuable.

But more than that, in Jesus’ day salt wasn’t just for adding a little flavor to your food. Without salt, you couldn’t eat at all. You couldn’t live without salt. There was no other way to preserve your food, meat especially.

Jesus tells his disciples—the twelve who followed him then, and the many who follow him now—that we are that incredibly precious commodity. We are salt. And it’s not just that we’re a source of salt. We are the salt of the earth. We’re it.

And we have a huge responsibility. It’s up to us, and us alone, all of us who love God and believe—it’s up to us to keep the earth good. It’s up to us to save the earth—to show stewardship of our environment and all living things by protecting what God gave us. It’s up to us to save what is good about the earth—to protect the love, kindness, and justice that God commanded of us.

And this isn’t always a fun process—if you’ve ever heard the phrase ”putting salt in the wound”, then you know that what Jesus calls upon us to do isn’t always comfortable. But there’s a saying—we’re here to comfort the afflicted, and to afflict the comfortable.

But in order to save, protect, and preserve the earth, we need to first take care of ourselves. Jesus was very concerned about this on the day he had this discussion with his disciples. He told them, “…but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored?”

Jesus didn’t go on to answer that question, but his disciples knew what he meant. In those days, when you used the same supply of salt repeatedly to preserve your food, that supply would end up getting dirty, as other things mixed in with the salt and diluted it. Your salt was only good if it was pure. If your supply got contaminated, you needed to cleanse it.

That’s what we come here on Sundays for—to worship together, to put aside the things that distract us, and to focus just on God, so that we can purify our hearts and minds to go and be the salt of the earth when we leave this place.

Jesus calls us to be a shining example of his love, so that others may understand him just by looking at us. We are the light of the world. We are God’s light.

But the thing we can lose sight of, because of our modern sensibilities, is that Jesus didn’t mean that each one of us is like a giant spotlight, showing others the way to God.

Jesus’ disciples didn’t have those kinds of lights. They had oil lamps—a single wick kept going by a dish of oil.

That’s not a very powerful light source. That’s not even enough to light up a room. If we work together, we have enough power to light up our whole church, but there’s still a lot we just aren’t strong enough to do.

We need to have the peace to able to accept what we can’t change-- our own limitations. And the might sound like de-motivation, but it’s actually very important.

Because we can’t do our work without humility. We need to know that we are only just a small part of the whole picture to God. We need to not get frustrated and lose hope when, in spite of our noblest efforts, we still see corruption in the world. We can’t do everything.

But Jesus assured us, his disciples, that not even a single stroke of God’s law would pass away until it was fulfilled. In time, in God’s time, there will be peace and justice.

But until then, may God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot  change, the wisdom to change the things we cannot accept, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen.

For more on the "Serenity Prayer", refer to this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serenity_Prayer .

2-2-14: Sermon on the Mount, Part 1: The Beatitudes

Sermon on the Mount, Part 1: The Beatitudes

 

Matthew 5: 1-12 (NRSV)

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

 

If you’re familiar at all with contemporary Christian music, or if you listen to the radio station K-LOVE, like I do, then you might be familiar with an artist by the name of Nichole Nordeman, and you might be familiar with a song she released a few years back, called “Legacy”.

I heard this one a number of times when it was in K-LOVE’s regular circulation, but I didn’t have a strong appreciation for it until a few years ago, when I was a seminary intern and led my first “All Saints’ Day” service with my friend, Emily. As we remembered the saints among us and the saints gone before us that day, Emily shared that she heard this song played at the memorial service for a friend of hers, and that these lyrics are simply a powerful reminder to all of us of what it means to a person of faith to have a life well lived.

If you’re not familiar with this song, the first verse and refrain go like this:

 

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
You could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all who's who and so-n-so's that used to be the best
At such'n'such ... it wouldn't matter much

I won't lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an 'Atta boy' or 'Atta girl'
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who
blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

 

From now until the season of Lent begins, the Revised Common Lectionary is taking us on a journey through the Gospel of Matthew, chapters five through seven—or, what our tradition calls Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount”. Our tradition has given great love and praise to the “Sermon on the Mount” in the millennia that have passed since Jesus spoke it and Matthew copied it down. The words you find preserved in these three chapters are by far the most well-known of all of Jesus’ teachings—and, by many, the most loved. My guess is that if we went around this room and we all shared a favorite saying or teaching of Jesus’, many of them would come from the Sermon on the Mount. “Love your enemy”, “turn the other cheek”, “you are the light of the world”, “do not judge, or you will be judged”, and even the Lord’s Prayer—all of these sayings come from the Sermon on the Mount.

Now, whether Jesus really sat down with his disciples and said all of these things in one afternoon, or whether Matthew recorded them all back to back out of his own authorship is a matter of debate, but the end result is the same—in the space of three chapters, Jesus teaches us nearly everything he had to say about life. So much so that I was taught when I was being confirmed that if I was ever struggling with anything, the first place in the Bible I should turn to for advice is Matthew chapters five through seven. I’m half a lifetime removed from my confirmation, but this advice is still serving me very well.

Our Sermon on the Mount begins with what are perhaps the most famous of Jesus’ words from those teachings—what we have called “the Beatitudes”.

I have a lot of places in my life from which to draw inspiration on how to live a good, faithful life—music, authors of the faith, friends, colleagues of the cloth, family, you all—but these verses, the Beatitudes, tend to be the first I turn to.

In these twelve verses Jesus says the things that Nichole Nordeman echoed, in her song I told you about before. The difference, of course, is that in our contemporary, post-Jesus world, we’re used to hearing these kinds of thoughts. We’ve been hearing words like these for two thousand years, and, although that may not make the words themselves any easier to live up to, we aren’t shocked at the lesson.

Jesus’ audience would have been. These words are incredibly subversive. Think about them—the poor in spirit will inherit the kingdom. The meek will inherit the earth. The peacemakers are the children of God. The pure in heart are the ones who can see God. The merciful will be treated in kind. Those who mourn are blessed. Those who are persecuted are blessed.

What kind of a world would that be? Certainly a very different one even from how we live, let alone from how Jesus’ first-Century disciples lived. What kind of a world is Jesus describing to us, where humility, gentleness, faith and love make you as strong as you can be? The world is the Kingdom of God—a kingdom Jesus came into this world to plant. A world that has never been fulfilled—but could be.

It’s a world that even Jesus himself would have heard about growing up as a devoutly Jewish young man. No one had ever put these words quite as eloquently as Jesus before, but he knew that he wasn’t the first to preach this message. Prophets of old—prophets of the Old Testament, who had gone centuries before him, prophets whose words Jesus and his audience would have found sacred and holy—those prophets also proclaimed that the way to God was through peace and love.

When you study at seminary and make your way through the process of becoming an ordained minister, you get asked lots of times, in lots of different ways, to explain what your theology is. You also get asked lots of times, and in lots of ways, to describe what calls you into Christian ministry. Eventually, those two questions get put together, and they turn into—describe what you think God wants us to do to better our world.

I was prompted with a question like this one not too long ago. And people will continue to ask me questions that sound like that one—not just the people who have the power to ordain me, but the people who are curious and want to know, what do I believe that is so compelling that I would devote my life to this work?

There’s lots of words I could say to those people, but Micah, the Old Testament prophet we heard from this morning, got it in one sentence: “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.”

May we all leave that kind of legacy. Amen.

“Legacy” was written and performed by Nichole Nordeman.

1-26-14: Faith By Sight

Faith by Sight

 

Matthew 4: 12-23 (NRSV)

Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:

“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.”

From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

 

Looking over these words from Matthew, I think the question of the day is this: what would make you leave your job?

What would make you leave your job?

And ,really, the question this Gospel lesson begs is more like, what one sentence could someone say to you that would make you leave your job?

And if you just heard that, and what you’re thinking is, well, nothing, because I’m retired, or because I never worked outside the home, then let’s consider this idea of “work” a little more like Jesus’ very first disciples would have.

This morning, our lectionary-appointed Gospel story is the story of Jesus calling his very first four disciples—Simon, Andrew, James, and John. Two sets of brothers, all young adults like Jesus himself, and four men who all had one common occupation: fishing.

This is a very different world than ours. These men didn’t list “fishing” as their occupation on their IRS tax forms, they didn’t report to an overt kind of “boss”, and, most importantly, they didn’t have a set Monday through Friday kind of schedule, where they punched in at 9 and punched out at 5.

Fishing, to these four men, was much more than just what we might want to call their “job”. Fishing was a whole way of life for Simon, Andrew, James, and John. As we can see by the fact that Simon and James fish with their brothers Andrew and John, and by the fact that James and John worked with their father, Zebedee, fishing was the family business for these four men. Simon, Andrew, James, and John were probably raised from the time they were little boys in the art of fishing.

Some of us might have grown up in a particular family, or in a particular culture, where we, too, faced serious expectations of what we were going to be when we grew up, but for Simon, Andrew, James, and John, there wasn’t even a question. They were going to be fishers.

We can guess these four men were from the lower working class—James and John were clearly at least a little better off than Simon and Andrew because they owned a BOAT (Simon and Andrew had to just sit on the shore with their net). Still, though, we can expect these four young men didn’t have much of an education, and wouldn’t have seen much more of the world than their own hometown—fishing was quite probably all they knew.

We need to understand that in order to be able to understand just what they were taking on when Jesus called them. Simon, Andrew, James, and John left behind more than just their nets—they left behind their homes and families, too.

And this is why that one question came into my head this week while I was reading over this scripture text: What would convince you to leave your job? And, specifically, what one sentence could convince you to walk away from your job?

Because, if you do work outside of the home, then surely you could tell me lots of things that would convince you to walk away from your current employer—retirement, or an illness or injury, or family obligations, or bad hours, bad pay, bad working conditions, a boss you don’t get along with, or perhaps a better work opportunity opening up somewhere else, with better compensation, a shorter commute from home, or a promotion in your responsibilities.

There’s lots of reasons why you might leave the office you’re in—especially if you know exactly where you’re going next. Especially if it was your idea to leave, and you have a plan.

But what might be so compelling that it would convince you to do what Simon, Andrew, James, and John did? What could someone say to you that would be so convincing that you would leave behind everything?

And what could this look like in our world? What would a contemporary Jesus, calling you to God’s service, look like?

The only image I could come up with—one that still doesn’t totally fit the experience of Jesus’s first disciples—is if someone you had never seen before came up to you at your place of work and said,

Hey, I’ve got a car outside, get in! Where I’m taking you will be so much better than where you are now

I don’t know about you, but that wouldn’t convince me. No way would I want to be hanging around with a stranger. No way would I walk away from the profession that puts a roof over my family’s heads and food on their table. No way would I give up the comforts of what I know for just a vague promise that something better is in store.

Yet, I must pause to consider—I did indeed make it into the ministry. And along the way in my life, words were spoken to me that maybe didn’t convince me to leave my home and family, but that definitely convinced me to take the untraveled road, never knowing what would happen next.

In the same way, all of you made it here to help make Benton United Methodist Church happen, with your own talents and labor.

What convinces us to keep going? What convinces us to work for God?

What convinces up to serve someone we can’t see?

For Simon, Andrew, James, and John, one sentence was enough—Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.

Jesus didn’t just promise those four young men a better, more exciting, more fulfilling life.

I asked you before, what one sentence would convince you to leave your job?

For Simon, Andrew, James, and John, that was it. And why did that one sentence do it for them? Because just that one sentence, just those ten words, explained to them the entirety of the Gospel. All the Good News of our Lord was summed up in ten words:

Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.

I’m in a bit of an interesting, peculiar position as a clergywoman. It doesn’t come up all the time, but when you meet new people, people that want to drum up some small talk with you—friends of friends, acquaintances at a party, new neighbors, the clerk at the grocery store, the receptionist at the doctor’s office (you get the idea)—when people want to know a little more about you, one of the first things they ask is, what do you do for a living? Let me tell you, anytime I tell someone who doesn’t know me that I’m a pastor, I hear nothing but the most interesting responses. It’s something about the way that our culture regards ministers. Frequently, and sometimes out of nowhere, I’ll hear stories about someone else’s faith journey. And, frequently, I’ll start hearing apologetic reasons for why someone hasn’t been to church in a while—hey, you don’t owe me an explanation, but if it makes you feel better, I’m all ears.

But maybe more than anything, the follow-up question I end up hearing is, why do you believe? In our modern, advanced, technological world, why would I believe in something I can’t see, something I can’t touch?

Well, I believe for the same reason that Simon, Andrew James, and John left behind their nets and decided to become fishers of people.

You see, I might not be able to see God, but I can see God’s works. I might not be able to see God, but I can see the Good News.

Jesus reaches our own hearts with the Good News that we need. Jesus reached four fishermen by telling them the fishers’ Gospel—you will be fishers of people.

Jesus might reach our own hearts with the teachers’ Gospel, the nurses’ Gospel, the musicians’ Gospel, the mothers’ Gospel, the fathers’ Gospel, the grandparents’ Gospel.

And the words that you hear, when you hear your own Good News, might not feel as earth shattering as what Simon, Andrew, James, and John heard, but they could be your daily bread—one sentence that reminds you, if only for today, why you do what you do for God.

My Good News, my daily bread, is all of you.

Whatever you do this week, do it for the glory of God. If someone can see God’s works in you, they can see God. And if they have seen God through you, then you have been a fisher of men and women.

May it be so.

Amen.

1-12-14: Baptism

Baptism

 

Matthew 3: 13-17

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

 

Friends, I’m doing something a little bit different today, as I think you can see. Bear with me; the Holy Spirit put something very special on my heart this week.

So, first thing’s first: you’re preaching, Pastor Natalie, why are you holding a guitar?

This is why:

I got a song stuck in my head this week. You know when that happens to you? You’ll be doing something totally non-musical, like washing the dishes, or feeding your pet bunny, or making your family dinner, and this tune will just creep into your head?

This happened to me this week. Sometimes that happens, and it’s pleasant, because it’s a song you really like. Sometimes that happens, and it’s really annoying, because that tune just follows you everywhere…in my case, even in my sleep.

But it wasn’t just my brain fixating on a song this week. It was God, leading me through these words to realize this song is the whole point; this song is a means to an end. This song is the Good News.

I realized that when I sat down at my computer to start typing out this sermon. And I re-read the lectionary appointed Gospel passage, and the tune just came back. And I was humming it. And my mind was searching through my memories to recollect the lyrics to all five verses. And then my body was moving with it. Then I was down to the rec room to fetch my guitar, and I was on Google learning the chords. Then I was playing it.

Then I thought—What are you doing, Natalie? You’re supposed to be working right now!

Then I figured it out: this is my work.

This morning we’re hearing about the story of Jesus’ baptism in the River Jordan by his trusted friend and cousin, John the Baptist. John the Baptist. We always call him that. Not just because we need to distinguish him from a few of the other men named “John” in the Bible, but because tradition has engrained that on him as his name.

That’s his calling. He baptizes. He baptizes everyone. He loves to baptize.

Until it’s his own cousin, Jesus. Then he’s suddenly full of doubt and reservation about the one thing he does better than anyone else. John the Baptist comes face to face with Jesus, and all the sudden he doesn’t want to baptize! But Jesus tells him, It’s ok John, baptize me. I don’t need to be the leader right now. Let me submit to you for once. It’s right, I promise.

And I realized these words, from a contemporary Christian folk song, speak beautifully to what Jesus is telling John:

Brother, sister, let me serve you.

Let me be as Christ to you.

Pray that I might have the grace to

Let you be my servant, too.

 

This morning we’re hearing about Jesus on the very beginning of his journey in his own ministry. And we, here in our contemporary church, have something very important in common with Jesus—we begin our walk with God the same way Jesus did, through our sacred rite of baptism. Whether you were baptized as an infant, or as an adult, like Jesus was, you began like he did.

And if you’re sitting here listening to me, and it so happens that you have not received the sacrament of baptism yourself, this message is every bit as much for you, too. Because baptism is much more than just the ritual that we’ve seen. Baptism is about accepting God’s charge to go forth and live your life like he expects you to.

While I was sitting around all week with this tune stuck in my head, I also got into a long-distance internet-facilitated conversation with my big sister, Cassie. A lot of you got to meet Cassie last summer, when she came up here to be a bridesmaid with me in our little sister’s wedding. As poor Sean over here can attest, Cassie got me into this conversation all night long, so it’s too much to share all of it with you here. But Cassie was sharing with me how frustrated she was with the state of our Church. And she was angry. She was angry at some of the messages she’s been getting from some of our own brother and sister Christians. Messages that we’re all exposed to if you watch the news on TV, and even moreso if you have an internet connection. Messages from people who claim to have committed their lives to following Christ, and yet don’t reflect any of his love in their behavior—especially their behavior toward others.

So, being that I’m the only pastor in our family, when someone has a faith-related question, or a concern, or really anything spiritual on their heart, I’m your go-to girl. But as Cassie and I talked I realized that not only did Cassie have some frustrations that all of us share from time to time, and not only was Cassie saying some things that I really think all people of faith need to hear, but that Cassie’s concerns were perfectly timed with what I planned to preach to you all about today: our baptisms.

Remember a minute ago, when I said that baptism is about more than the ritual with the water? That this message about baptism is just as much for you as anyone, even if you happen to have not received the sacrament of baptism yourself?

Here’s why: we are called to something very special, as people of Christ. God has put something very, very important on us.

Matthew tells us that when Jesus was baptized, something miraculous happened. The heavens were opened, and a light shone on him. And everyone could hear a voice speaking to Jesus. The voice of God. And what God says to Jesus is so significant that a lot of us can recite them from memory:

You are my Son, my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.

This is what happened to every one of us when we were baptized. This is what God said to us when we decided to walk with him, however that took place for you. God said to you, you are my son, you are my daughter, you are my own beloved child, and in you I am well pleased.

These are words of a love so radical, and so tremendous, that it can only come from God. These are words of support and reassurance, whenever the road gets rough, whenever a hardship or an obstacle is put in front of you—God was already well pleased with you when you started, way back when you were a baby, way back when you first became a Christian, way back when you first rolled out of bed and decided to come to church. God was already well pleased with you then, and you hadn’t even done anything yet. You’re not going to lose his love no matter what happens.

But these words are also our charge. These are the words that we, as God’s children, now need to live up to.

A few minutes ago I told you that when you decide to walk with God, you commit yourself to living your life like God expects you to. Those are big words—but what do they mean? What does it mean to “live like God expects you to”?

It means to be a person in whom God would be well pleased.

This is a huge calling for us. It’s not easy. And it’s bigger than most people think, or even know. God has great expectations for his sons and daughters. God doesn’t just want us to be nice people. God doesn’t just want us to be law-abiding citizens, to pay our taxes, to do our jobs, to look out for our own, and to be polite and cordial. Anyone can do that. We can do more.

We are called to be the hands and feet of Christ. We are called to be disciples. We are called to show the same radical love to everyone around us that God first gave to us—the kind of love that accepts someone you just met as your own beloved family.

God calls us to share the best of life with each other. All of life with each other. To rejoice in one another’s triumphs, to cry each other’s tears. To show real compassion.

And that calls us together, as a community. In order to show compassion you need to have people around you to show it to. We also all need one another, to help us out when this special calling becomes so difficult that we’re tempted to give it up.

When you live with compassion, you live just like this song—this tune I had stuck in my head all week. This is the tune of our own renewed baptisms, our own renewed callings, this and every day.

Brother, sister, let me serve you
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I might have the grace
To let you be my servant too

We are pilgrims on the journey
We're together on this road
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load

I will hold the Christ light for you
In the night time of your fear
I will hold my hand out to you
Speak the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping
When you laugh, I’ll laugh with you
I will share your joy and sorrow
Till we’ve seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven
We shall find such harmony
Born to all we’ve known together
Of Christ’s love and agony

Brother, sister, let me serve you
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I might have the grace
To let you be my servant too.

Let us all so live our lives, so that God may be well pleased in us, this and every day. Amen.

“The Servant Song” was written and composed by Richard Gillard. Copyright 1977 Scripture in Song (a division of Integrity Music, Inc.).