"Jesus' Baptism and Ours." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Baptism of the Lord Sunday

"Jesus' Baptism and Ours"

Luke 3:15-22

Here we are again, in the season of Epiphany, on Baptism of the Lord Sunday.  Each year the lectionary gives us the story of Jesus’ baptism, as told by Matthew, Mark, or Luke.  This year, it’s Luke. 

Most of the third chapter of Luke follows the story of John's ministry as told by Matthew and Mark.  John is the voice crying in the wilderness… John baptizes hundreds who came out to be baptized. We hear John making it clear that he isn't the Messiah:  "I baptize you with water," he said, "but one who is more powerful than I is coming.  I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire."

But then Luke adds a little interlude about Herod being very angry with John, because John had charged him with stealing his brother's wife.  Indeed, Luke tells us Herod was so upset that he shut John up in prison. The lectionary wants to omit these verses. They interrupt the narrative we’re used to hearing, and they complicate how we interpret the story of Jesus’ baptism. But I think Luke included the verses for a reason.

After the little interlude about Herod throwing John into prison, the story goes on. "Now, when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized.

But how could John baptize Jesus if John was in prison? Or is Luke simply writing about something that had already happened before Herod imprisoned John?

If we pay close attention, we might notice that Luke doesn’t say anything about Jesus' baptism. There's nothing here about Jesus going down into the water or coming up out of the water. We probably assume that this happened as the other gospels tell the story, but Luke doesn't seem to be very interested in the actual moment of baptism-- but only what happened after baptism.

What Luke seems to be more interested in is that Jesus was praying when the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove.

There’s another difference in the way Luke tells the story. In the different accounts, we hear John saying, “I baptize you with water, but one who is more powerful than I is coming.”  But Luke goes on to say, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary. But the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

            Now, I know some people’s minds connect the “fire” John talks about to the fires of hell, but that’s not what this is about. Generally, “fire” in the Bible isn’t about punishment, but about purification.  This imagery is about Jesus separating the good grain in our lives from the chaff—which is the husk part that is often thrown away-- and how the chaff would be burned away.
            Luke tells us that, when Jesus was baptized, the spirit in the form of a dove came upon him. As Adam Ericksen points out, the symbol of the Roman Empire was a fierce eagle—a bird of prey. The early Christians had a different symbol: a peaceful dove.[1]
            Luke pictures John the Baptist as an end-time prophet who announced that the world was about to change, that the realm of God was being ushered in—a new world in which all things would live together in love, peace, justice, mutual support, freedom, and dignity.
            When John called people to repent and be baptized, he was calling them to turn away from complicity with the old age and its values and behaviors and to turn toward the coming realm. John announced that the one who was coming would be more powerful, and would bring in the new kingdom and leave the Holy Spirit to empower the community to continue to witness to the realm.

When Jesus was held under the water by John the Baptist, whenever it happened, he showed what baptism is, for Jesus and for us. It’s a sign of what’s already true—no matter what the Herods or Caesars of this world say. God tells us who we are: “You are a beloved child of God.”

            Jesus’ baptism was an epiphany moment—as the Holy Spirit descends upon him… and he and others heard confirmation from God: “You are mine.  Beloved.  I am well pleased with you.” 
            Baptism teaches us who we are – God’s beloved children.   It reminds us of the promise:  God loves us unconditionally.   Baptism reminds us that we discover who we are in relation to whose we are:  God’s beloved children.  We belong to God’s family, and baptism is a tangible sign of that.
            Baptism is about knowing who we are, so we don’t waste precious time searching frantically for an identity that something or someone else can confer on us-- but instead, use our lives to live out our God-given, baptism-shaped identity.
            The same Spirit that descended on Jesus baptizes us!   We can live in confidence that-- no matter how often we fall short or fail-- nothing that we do or fail to do can change the fact that we are God’s beloved children.  This identity is something God gives us—as a gift.
            Maybe you don’t remember, but at your baptism, that voice named and claimed you.   We need to remember our baptism.  So, turn to your neighbor, and remind them.    Tell them, you are God’s child...  God’s beloved.   God loves you and claims you.  [Some people even got out of their seats to share this good news.  There were smiles and maybe a handshake or hug or two.]
            There’s something else we need to remember: at our baptism, God gave each of us the gift of the Spirit.   So, let’s turn to one another and remind one another:  You’ve got the Spirit, because God gave it to you when you were baptized.
[Again, people moved around a bit and made sure everybody was reminded that they’ve got the Spirit.]

Okay, so what does all this mean? 

            Without the rest of Jesus’ life, his baptism isn’t something we can comprehend.  We can only comprehend the purpose of Jesus’ baptism when we look at the days and years that followed that day in the Jordan.  It’s when we see Jesus taking his place with hurting people that his baptism starts to make sense.  Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan foreshadowed his baptism on the cross.  Baptism was Jesus’ commissioning for ministry.
            During the week before his death, Jesus was challenged by the leaders of the temple: “By what authority do you do these things?”
            Jesus answers by referring to his baptism: “Was the baptism of John from heaven-- or not?”  In other words, I was baptized.  That’s how all this started.”  It was in the waters of baptism that Jesus heard the Spirit calling him to speak the truth and to live with grace.
            In baptism, God proclaims God's grace and love for us.  God claims us and marks us as God’s own.  We have a new identity as members of the body of Christ.
            So, we are baptized and begin a lifelong journey with God...  a lifelong process of conversion and nurture that begins at the font and doesn't end until death, until we are at last tucked safely into the everlasting arms of the God who first reached for us in baptism.
            God keeps on reaching out for us throughout our lives.  God isn't finished with any of us yet.  Every day we live out our baptism.  Every day we need to respond to God's gracious gifts in our lives...  open ourselves again to God's work in our lives...  say yes in all the big and little things we do and people we meet and promises we keep throughout the day.
            A major part of God's daily saving work in our lives is God's gift of the Holy Spirit. Just as God's creating Spirit hovered over the waters in the very beginning, the Holy Spirit works in us...leads us daily...tugging at our lives until we are more fully turned toward God. 
            In our baptism, we become part of a royal priesthood, a holy nation, in order that we may proclaim the mighty acts of the One who called us out of darkness, into God's marvelous light.^[1] 
           In our Reformed part of the Protestant branch of Christ’s church, we take our membership in the priesthood of all believers very seriously.  In fact, in the Presbyterian Church, we take this calling so seriously that we ordain our officers for service.  The questions we ask at a service of ordination and installation of elders and deacons-- the questions you'll hear in a few minutes-- are the same questions asked of a Minister of the Word and Sacrament, except one.   The congregation makes promises too:  to support and encourage and pray for those who are serving as officers.              
            Every one of us gathered here has been given a particular set of gifts to use in God's service.  This community of believers is part of God's plan to bring good news of healing and freedom to a broken, hurting world. 
            On this Baptism of the Lord Sunday, we are reminded of Jesus' baptism and our own.  We are reminded who we are...  and whose we are.
            At your baptism, the same Spirit came down upon you as came down upon Jesus at his baptism.   The same Father said to you,  "you are my beloved son"...   or "you are my beloved daughter."  The same Father has continued ever since to hold you...   and to work to empower you for God's work.

How easy it is, in the midst of this life, to forget who you are...  and whose you are.  So, the church is here to remind you that God has named us...  and claimed us...   and seeks us and loves us unconditionally.

This is the gift Baptism gives to us. We are children of God, joined together with Christ to all the other Children of God. 

            So, remember your baptism and be thankful.  For this is who we are.
            Listen attentively for God’s call.  Use the gifts God has given you as a sign of the outbreaking of the kingdom of God.  Take on new challenges in your ministry.  Rely on the Holy Spirit to lead and empower and uphold you. 
            As you go out into the world, be the minister that God has called you to be.
            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

January 13, 2019

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[1] Adam Ericksen, “Girardian Reflection on the Lectionary: The Baptism of Jesus: Deconstructing the Fires of Hell.” https://www.ravenfoundation.org/girardian-reflection-on-the-lectionary-the-baptism-of-jesus-deconstructing-the-fires-of-hell/ 

"Becoming the Pentecost Church." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Pentecost Sunday.

"Becoming the Pentecost Church"

Acts 2:1-21; Genesis 11:1-11

On Pentecost, the disciples were gathered together in Jerusalem. It was 50 days after Jesus was raised from the grave., waiting and hoping for the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise-- the promise we heard last week: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.  And you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

            What was it that happened on that Day of Pentecost?  Pentecost is the story of how the church came alive by the power of the Holy Spirit.  On that day, followers of Jesus Christ received the power to take the gospel to the streets there in Jerusalem...  and eventually throughout the earth.

            What happened that day was such a powerful experience that the people who were there had to turn to dramatic metaphor to describe what happened.  They said it was like a fire falling on them.

            On that day, a mighty wind from heaven blew the fire of the Holy Spirit into those followers who were gathered together.  When something like tongues of fire danced over the heads of the apostles, they seemed to be quickened by unseen forces.  They were shouting...  preaching...  speaking in a variety of languages so people from a lot of different countries could understand each other...  and generally making such a commotion that the people of the city had to stop and wonder:  what on earth was going on?

            The Spirit blew into the apostles an awareness that-- just as Jesus had promised-- the presence of the Holy Spirit was with them… and was at work in and through them.

            One way of understanding what happened at Pentecost is as a reversal of the story of the tower of Babel, as told in the book of Genesis. In the biblical memory, all the people in the world--the world known to them-- spoke a common language.

            According to the story, this unity of language and of culture was a dangerous thing. Because they could understand each other, the people gathered in one place and decided to build a city and a tower with its top in the heavens. They wanted to “make a name for themselves. They wanted power.

            Biblical scholar Robert Williamson suggests that when the people first began to make the bricks and mortar, there wasn’t really a plan to build a tower. Only after they’ve been laboring to make bricks is the decision made to build the tower.[1]

            What did they think they were making bricks for? Maybe some thought they’d be used to build houses so that everyone would have shelter. But then the plan emerged to build a tower upward toward the heavens.

           

            Williamson suggests--rightly, I think-- that towers are part of a hierarchical way of being in the world.  Not everyone can live at the top of the tower, in the penthouse. Not everyone can reach for the heavens. Most have to remain below. Some have to keep making bricks. Some have to grow the food to feed the privileged few at the top. Those at the bottom of the tower become the subjects of those at the top.[2]

            The story of the Tower of Babel illustrates the human tendency to build upward, for some to elevate themselves at the expense of others. It lays bare the desire of some to be like gods.

            God responds to the building of the tower--to the creation of the hierarchy--with anger.  God recognizes the capacity of human beings to construct centers of domination. “This is only the beginning of what they will do,” God says. “Nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.”

            So, God scatters the people across the face of the earth and mixes their languages so they won’t be able to understand one another. This is the way the ancient text in Genesis explains the origin of different languages and cultural differences.  

            I hear an echo of this scattering in the birth story in Luke’s gospel.

We hear the angel Gabriel say to Mary, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the child to be born will be holy, and he will be called Son of God.”

            In the song of praise and joy Mary sings, she proclaims that the Mighty One has done great things…. He has shown strength with his arm. He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly…he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty….”[3]

            On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit blew into the apostles an awareness that-- just as Jesus had promised-- the presence of the Holy Spirit was with them… and was at work in and through them.

            The disciples were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

            There were devout Jews from every nation staying in Jerusalem. When the crowd heard the disciples, they were bewildered, because each one heard the speaking in the native language of each. They were amazed and astonished and asked, “Aren’t they all Galileans? How can we be hearing in our own native languages?  What does this mean?

            The sound that came from heaven-- that rushing violent wind-- was the exciting sound of old barriers being broken and glass ceilings shattering.  The divisions within humanity were being overcome.   The church was empowered to take to the streets with the good news.

            I think this is an important and relevant word for us today.  In this time of divisiveness and polarization, this is an important and life-giving message.

            This past week, we heard some of our national leaders justifying how some immigrants had been described as “animals,” by trying to say they were only talking about gang members.  One of the best responses I heard to this was from Father James Martin, a Jesuit, who tweeted, “Calling people animals is sinful. Every human being has infinite dignity. Moreover, this is the same kind of language that led to the extermination of Jews (“vermin”) in Germany and of Tutsi (“cockroaches”) in Rwanda. This kind of language cannot be normalized. It is a grave sin.”

            The other one was a commentary from Lawrence O’Donnell that I saw on the internet, as I don’t have cable. O’Donnell explained why he believes Christians have to choose between the words that dehumanization and hatred and the words of Jesus Christ. This piece began as a commentary and ended up being more of a sermon.  He talked about what he learned in his Catholic school education. He pointed to “terrible perversions of Christianity” in history and held them up to the light to the teachings of Jesus Christ.  I won’t say more about what he said. You can follow the link I shared and watch it for yourself if you want to.[4]

            Where I’m going with this is that one of my friends on Facebook commented: “Very good commentary. Unfortunately, many won’t watch this because it’s on” a network they won’t watch.” 

            I responded by saying I’m sad that so many people close their minds to hear perspectives from people outside of their bubbles. There are times when people I respect and care about share links and perspectives from sources I may not hear frequently, and I try to listen and learn, to understand them better, even if I don’t necessarily agree. And sometimes I hear something we can claim as common ground.

            I really believe this. I believe the Holy Spirit empowers the community to embrace differences. As Robert Williamson says, “When the Holy Spirit wants to build a church, she begins by restoring the people’s capacity to understand each other. She enables people to speak across differences in language and custom.”   The Holy Spirit creates a church that respects and embraces the cultural diversity of people--all people.

            According to the prophet Joel, the Holy Spirit doesn’t believe in hierarchies. The Spirit comes upon all people-- both men and women, young and old, slave and free, from all peoples and language groups and cultures. The Holy Spirit is in the business of building diverse communities of resurrection life.

            Our mission in the church today is to radiate the gospel of Jesus Christ… the resurrection power of new and abundant life for all, beginning where we are    and reaching out to the ends of the earth. The Holy Spirit has been on the move, and we need to catch up with the movement of the Spirit.

            We have been promised that we will be given dreams and visions and the power to carry out God’s mission in the world.

            The book of Acts tells us that on the day of Pentecost, the disciples acquired a holy boldness that they’d never had before. I believe it can be so for us today. I believe it must be. The church needs us to dream God’s dreams and to live out God’s visions. The world needs it. 

            We can get discouraged if we focus on the divisiveness and injustice and meanness we see in the world around us, if we don’t hold fast to the vision of our faith--the kingdom of God--and how the world can be when we live in the way of love.

            If we pay attention, we can see glimpses.  Last Monday, Christians, Jews, Muslims, and people who don’t profess any formal religious affiliation gathered at state capitols around the nation to advocate for poor and marginalized people because they believe in the dignity of all persons and that everybody in the richest nation in the world has a right clean water and adequate food and housing and a good education.  There is power and joy in working toward that vision together.

            I think there’s a real longing to live in a more merciful and just and inclusive world. Many people who didn’t think they had any interest in getting up early to watch the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Megan Merkel were drawn in by the coming together in marriage of the prince and a bi-racial American, some of whose ancestors were slaves.

            Can you think of any family system and institution that’s more privileged and traditional and resistant to change than the House of Windsor?  I really appreciated how the traditions of the Church of England were honored in the marriage service, while also honoring the bride’s African-American heritage. We heard the chapel choir singing beautiful English church music and a British gospel choir singing “Stand by Me” and “This Little Light of Mine.”

            The Archbishop led the service, and American Presiding Bishop Michael Curry preached, which ended up being the most tweeted part of the service. People have been sharing his sermon through social media, and the text was printed in the New York Times and elsewhere. It reminded me of how, in another time, city newspapers would print the sermons from the major churches in town.

            Bishop Curry, a descendent of slaves, preached:  “There’s power, power in love….I am talking about some power.  Real power. Power to change the world…. power to transform….

            Bishop Curry was preaching to millions of people around the world when he reminded us all that Jesus said the first and greatest commandment is to love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength, and that the second is like it--Love your neighbor as yourself.

            Bishop Curry said, “Think and imagine a world where love is the way….Because when love is the way, we actually treat each other like we are actually family. When love is the way, we know that God is the source of us all. And we are brothers and sisters, children of God. My brothers and sisters, that’s a new Heaven, a new Earth, a new world, a new human family….

            “Dr. King was right: we must discover love, the redemptive power of love. And when we do that, we will make of this old world a new world.”

The feast of Pentecost reminds us that the Holy Spirit still blows into our lives, to justify us by grace through faith, to set us free to accept ourselves and to love God and neighbor.

            The same Holy Spirit who inspired the prophets and apostles and

gave birth to the church continues to prod, cajole, and urge us forward.    It’s been this way since the beginning of the church and will be this way as we are urged forward to live into God’s vision, until no child goes to bed hungry, until all God’s people are treated with dignity and have the basic necessities like safe water to drink and decent housing and a good education.

            The Holy Spirit comes to us, to give us courage to pray without ceasing, to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in Church and culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace,[5]

            Thanks be to God!

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

May 20, 2018

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[1] Robert Williamson Jr., “The Church is Not a Tower of Power” (Acts 2:1-21)    https://robertwilliamsonjr.com/the-church-is-not-a-tower-of-power-acts-21-21/

[2] https://robertwilliamsonjr.com/the-church-is-not-a-tower-of-power-acts-21-21/

[3] Luke 1:35; 46-55.

[4] https://www.msnbc.com/the-last-word/watch/-these-are-animals-1236567619523

[5] Brief Statement of Faith of the Presbyterian Church (USA),  1990.

"What Is to Prevent?" A Sermon from Littleield Presbyterian Church.

"What Is to Prevent?"

Acts 8:26-39

In the beginning of the book of Acts, we hear that Jesus has promised that the apostles would be baptized with the Holy Spirit and commissioned them to be his witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. 

Now, in chapter 8, we hear that an angel of the Lord comes to Philip and tells him to go to the road to Gaza.  So, Philip is traveling down the road from Jerusalem to Gaza—a wilderness road—when he encounters an Ethiopian riding in a chariot. 

Luke tells us quite a lot about both of these men.  Philip is one of seven Greek-speaking Christians appointed by the Twelve to tend to the needs of others, especially widows, in the Greek-speaking part of the Christian community.  He is known as Philip the Evangelist, who eventually settled in Caesarea.[1]

Embedded in this story are a number of interesting details.  We’re told that the Ethiopian—a black African—was the treasurer of “The Candace,” the official title of the queen mother and real head of government in Ethiopia.[2] 

Since he’s traveling in a chariot, we know he’s a person of status.   That he possesses a scroll of the prophet Isaiah shows that he is wealthy, because scrolls were very expensive. 

Luke tells us that the Ethiopian is a eunuch, which was not unusual for someone in that time and culture whose life was devoted to serving in the queen’s court.  He had probably been castrated, likely as a child, so that he would be considered trustworthy around all the women in the queen’s court. It must have been important to Luke that this man was a eunuch, because he mentions it five times.

This Ethiopian man was likely a “God-worshiper” returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.  God-worshipers, or God-fearers, were Gentiles who accepted the theological and ethical teachings of Judaism and worshiped with Jews in the synagogue without becoming full converts.   

Philip hears the Ethiopian reading aloud from the book of Isaiah and asks him if he understands what he’s reading.  The Ethiopian says, “How can I, unless someone guides me?”  Then he invites Philip to get into the chariot and ride with him.  

The passage he’s reading is one of what we may recognize as one of the “Suffering Servant” songs:

"Like a lamb led to slaughter, in humiliation justice was denied him and he was cut off from the land of the living, cut off from all progeny." 

The Ethiopian eunuch may have had his experience of rejection in mind as he was reading Isaiah: “In his humiliation, justice was denied him.”   No matter how much this man may have longed to be a full member of the Jewish community, the religious rules would have excluded him because of his physical condition.[3] If Deuteronomy 23 was being enforced in a rigid manor, he would not have been allowed in the Temple to worship—not even in the Court of the Gentiles, which was an outer court.[4] 

Here is someone else who has been denied a full life, condemned to have no generations to follow and remember him. And so, the eunuch is curious. Who is this being described in Isaiah? What has he done? What is going to happen to him? Of course, what he probably really wants to know is what is going to happen to him.  It’s as if the scripture has become a mirror, and he finds himself in it.

Now, before Philip was sent down this wilderness road, he has been preaching “the good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ” in Samaria, and as a result, many Samaritans “were baptized, both men and women.”  By preaching in Samaria, Philip has broken through two important barriers:  religion and ethnicity.  He is convinced that God loves even the Samaritans, and that they are welcome to join this new inclusive Jewish sect—the community of the Messiah. 

Even though Jesus had commissioned his followers to be his witnesses in Samaria,[5] this breakthrough had apparently raised eyebrows among the Jewish-Christian leaders in Jerusalem.  Can you imagine them saying, “But we’ve never done that before!  We’ve always believed that the Samaritans were heretics… “

The enforcers of the religious boundaries sent Peter and John to Samaria to look into the matter of including the Samaritans, and they prayed for them, and they received the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Peter and John preached the gospel to many villages of Samaritans on their way back to Jerusalem.

The Spirit was on the move!  So, I think there are three main characters in this story.  The Spirit of God brought Philip to the eunuch, so that he can interpret the scripture to him.  He tells him that the suffering servant as described by Isaiah has been fully embodied in the life and ministry of Jesus… and that Jesus’ death and resurrection has led to new life for all people.

Can you imagine how the eunuch would have responded to that news?  All people? Does Philip really mean that?  New life for all people?

As they’re traveling along that wilderness road, they come to some water. The eunuch impulsively jumps up and with great excitement, proclaims, "Look, here is water!  What is to prevent me from being baptized?"

What is to prevent him from being baptized?  A lot of people would want to say, “God says no.   God says you’re not even allowed in the Temple, because you’re a eunuch.  We’ve got a couple of Bible verses we can quote to prove it.  Like in Deuteronomy chapter 23.   It’s what we’ve always believed.  God says “no.”

But that isn’t what happened.  An angel of the Lord had sent Philip to encounter this Ethiopian eunuch.  This God-fearing eunuch who was studying the prophet Isaiah invites Philip to ride with him, to lead him in Bible study. 

I wonder if, during the course of their Bible study in the chariot, Philip and the eunuch read the next few chapters in the scroll of Isaiah.  I wonder if they got to chapter 56, where Isaiah proclaims:

“Thus says the LORD:  maintain justice, and do what is right,

for soon my salvation will come,

and my deliverance will be revealed….

Do not let the foreigner joined to the LORD say,

“The LORD will surely separate me from his people”;

... and do not let the eunuch say,

   "I am just a dry tree."

   For thus says the Lord:

   To eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,

   who choose the things that please me

   and hold fast my covenant,

   I will give in my house and within my walls,

   a monument and a name

   better than sons or daughters;

   I will give them an everlasting name

   that shall not be cut off. “[6]

Over the years, some scholars have wondered how Isaiah could have said such a thing.  Surely, he knew the holiness code as written in Deuteronomy.  A eunuch was excluded from the assembly of the LORD.[7]  Why would Isaiah have said this after the exile, when the very survival of the remnant of the people of Israel was at stake?  This was a time when having children would have been a priority… and when purity and boundaries seemed critically important.  And yet, in just such a time, Isaiah wrote that foreigners and eunuchs would be welcome in the household of God.

Could it be that the Spirit of God was hovering over the text and over the prophet, bringing forth a new word to overturn the word of exclusion?  

The Spirit of God has been on the move.  Surely it was no coincidence that the story in Acts 8 of an Ethiopian eunuch brings together the two categories of Isaiah 56 together in this one person. Philip is continuing the work the risen Jesus began on the Emmaus road, opening and interpreting the scriptures.

Through his storytelling and his actions, through his relationships with people, Jesus proclaimed the gospel of the kingdom of God—the gospel of love.

When people asked Jesus what the most important commandment was, Jesus said: “Love God with your whole being.  Love your neighbor as yourself.  On this hangs the whole of the Law.” 

Jesus’ teaching and ministry were all about love and compassion and healing.  He reached out to people on the margins of society—people the good religious people of his day thought of as sinners and outcasts.

The eunuch listens to Philip as he shares the good news of Jesus.  And then with longing and excitement, he asks:  What is to prevent me from becoming part of this living, welcoming Body of Christ?

What does Philip do?   He sets aside the narrow confines of purity laws and exclusion… and throws open the wide doors of God’s love and mercy.  He embraces the spirit of the law, and baptizes the Ethiopian eunuch. 

This is gospel in action.  That’s what happens when we really study the Bible.  It’s transformative. It changes our minds. It changes our lives. And, like the Ethiopian eunuch, it sends us out rejoicing.

That’s a very different thing from when people pick a verse or two or three to support what they already “know” and say, “No. God says “no.”

            He went on his way rejoicing!   Tradition tells us that the Ethiopian eunuch was the first one to take the gospel to Ethiopia, and that makes sense to me.  He went on his way rejoicing—so full of joy and gratitude that he would have wanted to share the good news. The eunuch goes on his way rejoicing, for he has become a full member of the household of faith. 

Then the Spirit sends Philip on to share the good news in new places.  The Spirit is on the move.

There is good news for us and for all God’s people today.  God continues to come to us and to work in the lives of women and men who abide in Christ.   By that same Spirit, God unites us to Christ in the waters of baptism. 

 God gives us grace to abide in Christ, so that we can rejoice and grow in grace and produce the fruit of God’s reign in our lives.   We are sent forth to share the amazing wideness of God’s love…  to make everyone feel welcome in the heart of God.

This is the Good News of the Gospel. 

Thanks be to God!

  

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

April 29, 2018

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[1] Acts 21:8-9.

[2] Paul W. Walaskay, Acts  (Westminster John Knox Press, 1998), p. 86.

[3] Walaskay, p. 86.

[4] Deuteronomy 23

[5] Acts 1:8

[6] Isaiah 56:3-5

[7] Deuteronomy 23:1.

 

"Wilderness Faith." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the First Sunday in Lent.

"Wilderness Faith"

Mark 1:9-15

There’s a hymn in our hymnal that we sing sometimes, “There’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place. And I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord. There are sweet expressions on each face. And I know they feel the presence of the Lord.”

            Somehow, I don’t think the “sweet holy Spirit, sweet heavenly dove” adequately describes the Spirit in Marks’ account of the gospel. As Jill Duffield says, “Mark’s Holy Spirit dove does not sit cooing on a nearby branch, placidly watching.  No. Mark’s version of the Holy Spirit was an angry bird long before the video game came on the scene. The descending dove tears apart heaven to get to earthly Jesus as he comes up out of the waters of baptism… Somehow that image of a gentle bird, branch in its mouth, doesn’t do Mark’s Holy Spirit justice.”[1]

            Jesus had come from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him. A voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased.”

            And then, immediately, the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness.  Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts, and the angels waited on him.

            Now, both Matthew and Luke give us more details about those forty days. Mark’s sparse account leaves a lot more to the imagination.  We might like to fill in the gaps of Mark’s account with details from Matthew or Luke. Some of us might like to minimize the power of evil or tell ourselves there’s little we can do to resist evil. But I wonder if it isn’t more faithful to pay attention to the sparseness in the story…and spend time in the silence …and to invite the story to speak our truth to us.

            There’s a popular Sunday school curriculum for young children called “Godly Play.”  One of the key phrases teachers use in “Godly Play” teaches “The wilderness is a dangerous place. You only go there if you have to.” The children are encouraged to run their fingers through large, wooden sandboxes, and to imagine the scorched landscapes Biblical characters encountered as they sought to follow God. Fierce heat. Jagged rocks. Scarcity of water. Wild animals. Blistered feet.

            “The wilderness is a dangerous place. You only go there if you have to.”[2]

            We don’t know how Jesus spent those forty days and forty nights. Did he walk for miles each day, or camp out in one spot? Where did he sleep? Did he climb up into a cave? What was the silence like, hour after hour? As the days stretched on and on, did he fear for his survival? Did he question his sanity? Did he have visions?

            What we do know is that Jesus didn’t choose to go to the wilderness, and that it was dangerous.  “The wilderness is a dangerous place. You only go there if you have to.”

            Does that ring true for you? Most of us don’t choose to enter a wilderness place. We don’t generally seek out pain or loss or danger or terror. But sometimes we find ourselves in the wilderness anyway.  It may be in a hospital waiting room… a troubled relationship… a sudden death of a loved one… a crippling panic attack… loss of a job… a financial crisis.

            Can we bear to think it’s the Spirit that dries us into the wilderness among the wild beasts? When we’re suffering, we might wonder if this mean that God wills bad things to happen to us?

            Sometimes people will try to tell us things like this.

            I don’t think so.  But I do believe that God can redeem even the most parched and barren times in our lives   and that the dangerous places can also be holy.

            I hesitate to even say this, because I remember that at times Christians have suffered under the false teaching that God gives us human pain and suffering for some greater good. I’ve heard the old platitude that “everything happens for a reason,” and I don’t believe it.  I’ve had a hard time believing it for a long time, because of all the suffering I’ve seen and because I don’t believe the God I love and trust, the God who is love, goes around dispensing suffering and pain to teach us lessons.

           

            A few days ago, I heard part of an interview with Kate Bowler on the radio, on NPR, and I knew I needed to read her book, Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I’ve Loved).[3]

            Kate is a Duke Divinity School professor with a Christian background. She was best known, until recently, as an expert on prosperity gospel teachings and author of a book on the subject. Married in her twenties, a baby in her thirties, she got a job at her alma mater straight out of graduate school. She said she felt breathless with the possibilities. She writes, “I felt that God had a worthy plan for my life, in which every setback would also be a step forward.  I wanted God to make me good and make me faithful, with just a few shining accolades along the way. Anything would do if hardships were only detours on my long life’s journey. I believed God would make a way.” She continues, “I don’t believe that anymore.”[4]

            In 2015, at the age of 35, Kate was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer.  

            Kate prayed the same prayer every day: “God, save me. Save me. Save me. Oh, God, remember my baby boy. Remember my son and my husband before you return me to ashes.  Before they walk this earth alone.” She says, “I pleaded with a God of Maybe, who may or may not let me collect more years. It is a God I love, and a God that breaks my heart.”

            She had so many questions. “Why?  God, are you here?  What does this suffering mean?”  Sometimes she thought she could almost make out an answer. But then it was drowned out by what by now she’s heard a thousand times. “Everything happens for a reason” or “God is writing a better story.” Apparently, she says, God is also busy going around closing doors and opening windows.

            For Kate, THE WORLD OF CERTAINTY had ended and so many people seemed to know why. Most of their explanations were reassurances that even her cancer is a secret plan to improve her. “This is a test and it will make you stronger!” Sometimes, they’d pepper their platitudes with scripture verses.

            So, what I do believe, is that sometimes our life journeys take us to desolate and dangerous places. I don’t think this is because God takes pleasure in our pain or gives it to us to teach us something-- but because we live in a broken, fragile, dangerous world that includes wilderness places. I believe God is with us in ways and through people we might experience as angels.  I believe goodness is stronger than evil and that God can take the things of death and wring from them new life.

            I believe that there aren’t as many simple or certain answers as we might want to believe.

            So that’s what I wanted to say before we go back to the story of Jesus in the wilderness, and to wondering why God’s Beloved Son Jesus needed to be tempted and what it might mean.  

            I think Nadia Bolz-Weber is right when she suggests that temptation--Jesus’ and ours-- is always about identity. It’s about who we are and whose we are.  “Identity,” Nadia says, “is always God’s first move. Before we do anything wrong and before we do anything right, God has named and claimed us as God’s own.”[5]

            But almost immediately, other forces try to tell us who we are and to whom we belong.  Forces within capitalism tell us we need to buy certain kinds of cars or houses or clothing to show we have worth.  If we’re poor, parts of society tell us we’ve made bad choices or are lazy or just haven’t tried hard enough. “The weight-loss industrial complex”[6], our parents, teachers, the kids at school all have a go at telling us who we are.

            But only God can tell us who we are.  Everything else is temptation. If we’re out in the wilderness and we hear a voice on the wind telling us that we don’t have enough, that we aren’t good enough, that we can’t keep ourselves or our loved ones safe without gates and walls and bombs and assault weapons-- that’s temptation.

            If God’s first move is to give us our identity and tell us we are Beloved, Satan’s first move is to make us doubt our identity.  As we wander in the wilderness, in dangerous and desolate places, we are tempted to doubt that we are God’s own--beloved.

            The gospel story we heard today reminds us that we will have times of doubt and temptation. The wilderness experience is not unique to Jesus.

            Our times in the wilderness can teach us more about who we really are.

            As Mark tells us, there were angels in the wilderness. They might not have glistening wings and golden halos. Our angels might not come in the form we might prefer.  And yet, somehow, help comes.  Rest comes.  Comfort comes.  Angels come and minister to us. And sometimes we are angels to others.         

            That’s we do in the church, when we are out in the wilderness.  We minister to each other. We minister to each other. We whisper “beloved” …” child of God” into each other’s ears.

            I hope and pray that when angels in various forms whisper “beloved” into our ears, that we will listen and trust in the good news.

            When we’re in the wilderness, we can trust that God is with us, and that we are not alone.  We can trust that we belong to God and that God has named us and claimed us as God’s own.  We can trust that evil will never have the last word. We can know that love wins.
            Thanks be to God!   Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

February 18, 2018

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[1] http://pres-outlook.org/2018/02/1st-sunday-lent-february-18-2018/

[2] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1660-into-the-wild

[3] Kate Bowler, Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I’ve Loved).  Random House, 2018.

[4] Kate Bowler, Everything Happens for a Reason, Kindle location 69.

[5] Nadia Bolz-Weber, Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint.” (Jericho Books, 2013), page 139.

[6] I like Nadia’s description of this, on page 139.