“The Kingdom of Truth.” A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Christ the King Sunday

"The Kingdom of Truth"

John 18:33-38

            In 1925, Pope Pius XI instituted a new liturgical observance:  the Feast of Christ the King. The Pope felt that the followers of Christ were being lured away by the increasing secularism of the world. They were choosing to live in the “kingdoms” of the world, rather than in the reign of God.

            This last Sunday of the church year is Christ the King Sunday.  We prepare to begin a new church year next week. On the First Sunday of Advent, the coming of Jesus, not only in Bethlehem, but the second coming as well, we pause and reflect upon who Jesus the Christ is in our lives.

            Truth be told, the language of “king” and “kingdom” troubles a lot of people these days. As Jill Duffield points out, “it creates a stumbling block to seeing God.  Male. Dominating. Subjugating. Hierarchical….”  Those of us who live in the United States of America remember that back in 1775 we declared our independence from a king and fought a war of independence.  

            So…what do we do with Christ the King Sunday?  These days, we also call it “Reign of Christ” Sunday. We talk about “the kin-dom of God. “But how do we talk about Christ as King of our lives?

            The scripture texts appointed for this week give good clues for where to start.  The Revelation gives a beautiful glimpse into the glorious, majestic, all-encompassing power of the Risen Christ.  John the Evangelist proclaims that the One we worship, the Lord of all, poured himself out to the point of death on a cross.  

            Today’s gospel lesson is set in Pontius Pilate’s dusty headquarters in Jerusalem.  Pilate, an officer of the Roman Empire, looks over the ragged street preacher.   The Jewish religious authorities have turned Jesus over to be tried by the Roman authorities.   It is Pilate’s job to decide whether or not Jesus is a threat to the Empire.

            “Are you the king of the Jews?”   Pilate asks.

            Jesus answers, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?”

            Pilate replies, “I am not a Jew-- am I?   Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.  What have you done?”

            Jesus answers, “My kingdom is not from this world.  If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.  But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

            Pilate asks, “So you are a king?”

            Jesus answers, “You say that I am.  But ‘king’ is your word.  My task is to bear witness to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

            Pilate then answers, “What is truth?”
            Of course, “What is truth?” has everything to do with Jesus as king, for Jesus is the truth.
            Dr. Emilie Townes makes a helpful distinction between the more intellectual understanding of truth (which Pilate represents in this passage) and truth as revelation, which we find in Jesus Christ.[1]
            Dr. Townes writes, “We must seek to know God and live as active witnesses on this journey into God.  Jesus’ life and mission is a model of this for us. In Jesus, we learn that truth is a stimulant for faithful living and witness, rather than only a matter for contemplation. It is something we do.”
            What Pilate misses-- what most of the world misses-- is that Jesus’ Kingdom was never a place, but a perspective…never an established rule, but a stated reality of how to live life.  It was never about hierarchy or domination, but a way of interpreting the world and embodying Jesus’ gospel truth in everything we do.
            This is a counter-cultural way to live. We’re socialized to trust in the kinds of kingdoms that aren’t interested in the Truth at all, but who tell half-truths, false truths, fake truths that tap into our insecurities and our fears. It might be easier to live under authority, rather than turning away from that and living into the way of truth and justice for all.
            The gospels tell us what happens when oppressive, unjust kingdoms are confronted for their wrongs and defied for their abuses-- you can end up like Jesus. Or Dietrich Bonhoeffer… or Dr Martin Luther King…or Archbishop Romero.  We know when we stand up to privilege, those with power and privilege will want to shut us up.
            When you stand up to the workings of the world’s kingdoms that rely on sexism, racism, homophobia, xenophobia, classism, or able-ism to survive, expect to be silenced. When you stand up to the injustices of the kingdoms at hand that survive because of thrive on fear, expect to be discredited and disregarded.[2]
            The kingdoms of this world use power and privilege to keep people in their place.  But Jesus’ Kingdom tells the truth about the Truth-- that God so loves the world.
            Jesus Christ, our Savior, the one who was betrayed, arrested, beaten, mocked, and taken before Pilate, tells the ruler with the power to kill him, “My kingdom is not of this world.” When he could have spared himself, Jesus chose truth over safety, saying, “I came to testify to the truth. Whoever belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
            In a time when there are so many lies, those of us who worship Christ the King are called to testify to the truth.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to listen to his voice and to live in his way of truth and love. We are called to love God and our neighbors, to work for peace and reconciliation and justice for all, to embody the love of Jesus Christ in all our relationships. As we grow in faith toge

            In our Presbyterian and Reformed tradition, our understanding of baptism emphasizes God’s initiative.  God reaches out graciously to us, and offers us the gift of life in the kingdom as a free gift.  We respond by dedicating our lives to Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and committing ourselves to follow him.  Baptism is the beginning of our life in the church…a first step in a journey that takes a lifetime.

ther, we trust in the Holy Spirit to guide us, to lead us further into the truth, and to empower us to live into God’s Kingdom.   Through the guidance and power of the Holy Spirit, we teach and encourage each other to live in the way of God’s love.

One of the great joys of the Christian life is when parents present their children for baptism.  This is their public declaration that they want their child to be a part of the church and to have a ministry in it. 

            Baptism is central to our identity as Christians.    As we live into our baptism, we learn who we are and whose we are.  We are nurtured to see ourselves as beloved children of God, and that can make all the difference!

            The baptismal font stands at the front of sanctuary to remind us that we’ve been initiated into this congregation, as well as into the universal church of Jesus Christ. 

            When parents and a congregation baptize children, we all promise to teach them who they are in the light of God’s truth.  We promise to teach them what makes them different as part of a holy people…a royal priesthood…consecrated to God’s service.  

            When parents present their child for baptism, they promise to live the Christian faith themselves, and to teach that faith to their children, by word and example.  To grow in the faith, we all need to worship and learn together—in our families, and in the faith community which is the church.  

            Today, we’re inviting Khalil to be part of the great adventure we call church.

            What God will make of Khalil’s life, or where God will lead him, or what kind of ministry he will have, we don’t know.

            But what we do know…what we can say with certainty, because we have God’s PROMISE—is that God is with us every step of the way.

            May God bless Khalil and his family…and all of us on our adventure, as we live into God’s Kingdom together!

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

November 25, 2018

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[1] Emilie M. Townes, “Theological Perspective,” in Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17)  Reign of Christ

[2] I’m grateful to Caroline Lewis for her insights in “The True Kingdom” at Working Preacher. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5252

"Take Heart". A sermon on Matthew 14:22-33 on the Sunday after Charlottesville.

"Alt-right" members protest the removal of the Robert E. Lee Statue in Charlottesville, Virginia.

            What a week this has been! Earlier in the week, I was reminded that on August 9, 1945 the United States dropped a nuclear bomb on Nagasaki, Japan, killing tens of thousands of people. Three days before that, the United States dropped a nuclear bomb on Hiroshima. That week, more than 100,000 people died instantly, and tens of thousands more in the following days and weeks.

            Then we heard that our president responded to North Korea’s nuclear tests by threatening them with “fire and fury like the world has never seen”--on the day before Nagasaki Day.

            Of the roughly 15,000 nuclear bombs in the world, about half of them are owned by the U.S. We have bombs that are 80 times stronger than the Hiroshima bomb.  Cumulatively, the firepower of our nuclear arsenal is equivalent to 50,000 Hiroshima bombs. It only takes 100 nuclear bombs to make the world uninhabitable — and we have an estimated 7,000.  Lord, have mercy!

            Also, this week, we heard that the Dar Al Farooq mosque near Minneapolis was bombed while worshipers were gathered for morning prayers, in an “act of terrorism.”

            Through the week, as we heard about North Korea and nuclear threats, I thought that was where this sermon was headed. But now many of us are lamenting what's been happening in Charlottesville, Virginia. I think a lot of sermons got re-written yesterday.

            In any case, I think a lot of us can relate to the fearful disciples in the boat, as they were tossed about on a stormy sea.

            In the fourteenth chapter of Matthew, Jesus and the disciples have, in the face of apparent scarcity, miraculously fed a crowd of more than 5,000 people and discovered that there was enough for everyone. Then Jesus sends the disciples back across the lake and stays to pray on the mountain.

            As the disciples are crossing the lake, a storm comes along.  The disciples find themselves struggling against the wind.  The waves are battering against the side of the boat and soaking them.  They’re a long way from the safety of the shore.  They feel alone and helpless... and afraid. Their fear would have had a lot to do with how people in ancient times perceived the sea—as a place of chaos and danger.

            As the disciples anxiously scan the horizon, they see something coming closer and closer to them on top of the water.  What could this strange apparition be?  They’re terrified!  They holler at each other in fear above the roar of the storm:  “What is it?  It must be a ghost!”

            But then they hear a familiar voice speaking to them, saying, "Take heart.  It is I.  Don't be afraid."

             

            “Don’t be afraid” is a word of divine assurance in the midst of danger or fear, when there is cause to be afraid. There definitely was reason to be afraid out on the Sea of Galilee.  Jesus doesn't calm the wind when he's walking out to his disciples in the boat. He stands in the middle of danger, on the water, with the wind blowing and commands his disciples: “Take courage. I am. Don’t be afraid.”

            Apparently, Peter takes Jesus at his word. He steps out of the boat to walk on water toward Jesus. He discovers quickly that Jesus’ words of assurance didn’t mean the dangerous wind and waves had subsided.

            Jesus doesn't calm the wind when he commands Peter to come to him.  He doesn't calm the wind when he saves Peter from drowning.
            As biblical scholar Margaret Aymer wrote yesterday on Facebook, “In the face of the storms of white supremacy and racism, the church is commanded to walk on water, crying out for rescue when we need it. In the face of “make nice” culture and fear of offending, we are still required to face into the winds with the truth that racism is sin….”
            Friday night, white supremacists assembled in Charlottesville, Virginia for a public demonstration of hate. They held torches and chanted phrases such as “You will not replace us!” “Jews will not replace us!”  “White lives matter!”
            Yesterday morning, there was a clear contrast between white supremacists who chanted “Blood and soil!” and faith groups gathering in churches and then walking quietly to Emancipation Park and gathering there, singing with arms locked together, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine….”  [The congregation spontaneously joined with me in singing a verse of the song.]
           
            I know that the term “white supremacy” is unpopular, and that a lot of people are really uncomfortable talking about racism. A lot of people think it only refers to racists who wear hoods and burn crosses. They think it’s too harsh to apply to them, the people they know, or the church. But, as Jemar Tisby wrote yesterday in the Washington Post, “we can’t change the white supremacist status quo unless we name it and confront it.”[1]
            It isn’t easy. And we worry about offending or alienating people.
            Some of us have been having conversations and reading books together, books that inform and challenge us to talk honestly with one another about tough topics.  It’s hard but necessary work for those of us who are committed to working for a just and peaceful world.

            More than 50 years have passed since Martin Luther King gave his “I have a dream” speech.   Have we made progress since that time? Undoubtedly. But we need to be honest with ourselves about where we the people of the United States are and about our history.
            In the Gospel according to John, we hear Jesus saying, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”[6]
            I believe the gospel has the power to set us free-- as individuals, as a community, as a society-- if we have ears to hear the good news… if we have faith to trust in God’s power to transform us and bind us together in Beloved Community….if we trust in the gospel’s truth to bring us through the storms…
            I appreciate the way Jim Wallis talks about the power of the truth in his latest book:[7]
            “To become more free because of the truth.  To become more honest because of the truth.  To become more responsible because of the truth.  To become better neighbors because of the truth.   To become more productive and contributing citizens because of the truth.  To become better Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, people of other faiths, or people of conscience with no religion—all better because of the truth.  To become a better and freer country for all of us because of the truth.  To become better and freer human beings because of the truth.[8]
            I agree with Jim when he says, “We can no longer be afraid of the truth about race in this country—past, present, and future—because our fears will keep us captive to all kinds of untruths.
            Our faith teaches us that there is only one race: the human race. The other “races” are things that people have made up to justify dehumanizing other human beings and using and oppressing them. Our faith teaches us that every human being is created in the image of God and is precious in God’s sight. Our faith teaches us that we are required to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God.
            In the Christian view, racism is a sin. We will always have sin in this world, on this side of eternity. But we are called to “speak the truth in love” and to fight against sin in all its forms.  As long as the Church is in this world, God’s Holy Spirit will be working in and among us, leading and guiding and encouraging us, reminding us that goodness is stronger than evil and that love is stronger than hate. As long as we have breath, the Church--when the Church is truly being the Church--will not stop fighting for good.
            There’s great resistance to this holy work. When a black pastor in the largest Protestant denomination in the country brought a resolution condemning the alt-right and white supremacy, a small group of mostly white pastors dismissed it out of hand, and it was initially defeated.  It took the protests of other pastors, as well as backlash on social media, for the Southern Baptist Convention to pass a resolution condemning the alt-right and white supremacy at its annual meeting last June.
           
            More than 50 years ago, the Rev. Martin Luther King wrote a response to white pastors after they sent a message urging restraint and gradualism in the civil rights movement. 

            In his “Letter From a Birmingham Jail,” Dr. King said, “I felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be some of our strongest allies. Instead, some few have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.”

            So, here we are, in 2017. Dr. King’s words resonate prophetically today.  But in the midst of the storms of life, we are still fearful. We may be afraid that there is not enough for everyone-- that if those who are different or other have equity, there won’t be enough for us. We may fear losing the privileges we have always taken for granted. We may be afraid that the arc of the universe doesn’t bend toward justice. We may fear being uncomfortable. We may fear change. We may fear offending or alienating people we care about.
            As followers of Jesus, we need to speak the truth in love. We need to be very clear that racism, domestic terrorism, religious extremism, bigotry, and blind hatred don’t represent America.  They don’t speak for the majority of white Americans.  They do real harm to people who are our neighbors. But much more importantly, they are counter to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
            There are times when we may feel overwhelmed with various kinds of problems or with the evil we see in our world, times when we may feel like we’re drowning. We might feel weak, broken, or vulnerable, or afraid of real dangers.
            But the good news is that there is help and hope.  During the storms of life, we hear Christ’s voice, calling to us, inviting us to step out in faith...  to trust in God’s grace and power. When we do, we can accomplish what we thought was impossible--with God’s help. 
            We can hear Christ calling us, through prophetic voices, challenging us, as individuals and as the Christian church, to “take heart… and to not be afraid.”
            Jesus is with us, in the midst of the storm, reaching out to us, ready to pull us out of the depths if our fears overcome us and we start to sink.
            Thanks be to God!
            Amen!

The Rev. Fran Hayes                                                                                 

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

August 13, 2017

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[1] Jemar Tisby, “After Charlottesville, will white pastors finally take racism seriously?” in the Washngton Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2017/08/12/after-charlottesville-will-white-pastors-finally-take-racism-seriously/?hpid=hp_hp-top-table-main_trumpreaction421pm%3Ahomepage%2Fstory&utm_term=.9e9820461cec

"Beloved." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian on Trinity Sunday, May 22, 2016.

"Beloved"

John 16:12-1512-15

A Baptism on Trinity Sunday

We sang “Holy, Holy, Holy” this morning,  because  today is Trinity Sunday—the only Sunday in the Christian year devoted to a doctrine of the church.  The Trinity is one of two doctrines we share with the church catholic—with a small “c”—the church universal, along with the Incarnation. 

            So…  how do we speak of the Trinity?  What does it mean?

            The Trinity is not in the Bible—though the images and ideas on which it was based is there to develop what we sang about as  “God in three persons, blessed Trinity.”

            Jesus didn’t talk about the Trinity.  Neither did Paul.  It wasn't until the fourth century-- “ 300 years after Jesus”--  that Christian leaders formalized the idea of the Trinity at the Council of Nicaea in 325, in what we know as the Nicene Creed.  

            The Apostles' Creed, in its original form, is even older, and has been associated closely with the Sacrament of Baptism in many parts of the Christian faith—which is why we’ll say it today-- in continuity with the historic church and in community with the church universal.

            I like what David Lose says about the Trinity.  He says he thinks the church has gotten a little off track with our thinking about the Trinity.  He thinks “the Trinity was the early church’s way of trying to grapple with a monotheistic belief in one God,  in light of their actual, lived experience of God’s activity…in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and after an encounter with the power of the Holy Spirit.  And the Trinity provided an answer…of sorts.  An answer often couched in the language of fourth-century metaphysics….But somewhere along the way the Trinity because less about describing an experience of the living God and more about accepting metaphysical doctrines and definitions of God.”^[1]   I think that’s where we got off track.

            It’s a new day, and it’s time for us to be the church for a new time.  I think Karoline Lewis is right when she suggests that nobody cares about doctrine if it’s left behind in the 4th or any other century.  Nobody cares about doctrine when it is preached from the pulpit as if it is law….”^[2] 

            In the gospel lesson we heard today, we heard Jesus telling his first disciples,  "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.  When the Spirit of truth comes, he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you.  For all that the Father has is mine." 

            The Nicene Creed was the ancient church’s answer to the questions of its time, using the best philosophical constructs and language available to it at that time.  Who is Jesus Christ?  How do we speak of God? 

            The Creed and the doctrine of the Trinity were worked out at a time when the church was being transformed from a movement—a network of house churches in which people gathered for prayer and table fellowship—into something much more institutional and connected with the power of the empire.

            During times of controversy, the church has found it necessary to re-interpret the gospel for new times, in response to new situations and questions.   We Presbyterians have a whole Book of Confessions!  

            The “Brief Statement of Faith” of 1991 is the most recent confession in our Presbyterian Book of Confessions and one we use often in our worship at Littlefield.   It’s a Trinitarian statement, which begins by stating that we trust in the one triune God, whom alone we worship and serve. 

            The Presbyterian Church is in the process of adding the Confession of Belhar—from South Africa— to our Book of Confessions, out of the church’s desire to affirm our commitment to unity, reconciliation, and justice.  General Assembly approved in 2014 in Detroit, and the majority of presbyteries have affirmed it.  The final step is for it to go back to the 2016 General Assembly when it meets this June in Portland.  If the General Assembly approves it, there will be a new edition of our Book of Confessions that includes the Belhar Confession.

            I don’t believe that the “Belhar” is the last confession of faith the Presbyterian Church will ever adopt, because I trust that the Spirit will lead us into new truths that we haven’t even imagined yet. 

            I don’t claim to fully understand the mystery of the Trinity, and I don’t trust those who say they do.   Basically, the Trinity is our best but inadequate attempt to describe the mysterious nature of God in the language of metaphor. 

            The traditional formula of the Trinity is:  Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and there are times when we use the traditional language as an expression of our unity with the universal church.    For example:  We always baptize “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” because we are commanded to do so by Jesus in the Great Commission, and also because it’s an expression of our unity with the universal church. 

            But in our own time, some have been exploring a variety of alternative, more inclusive ways of describing the Trinity, like “Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.”

            All of the metaphors are inadequate to define or explain the mystery of God.   The doctrine of the Trinity reminds us that there is always more to God than we can comprehend… always more of God than we can explain… always more than we can sing or preach or prove.   

            Whenever we find ourselves digging in to defend what we’ve always thought about who’s in and who’s outside of the circle of God’s love, whenever we think we have God all figured out,  we need to remember in humility and openness what Jesus said:  "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.  When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into the truth.

             I think the language of the Trinity points us to relationship and mutual devotion.  A twelfth-century scholar, Richard of St. Vincent, reflected on this    and spoke of God in terms of shared love, and a community in which that love is expansive and generous.  

            The good news is that God is love.   God loves the world and chooses to create and redeem you and me and each and every person.   God chose to come in the person of Jesus, to live among us, full of grace and truth, to embody God’s love for us and teach us what it means to be beloved children of God.

            In the Gospel accounts of the baptism of Jesus, we hear the words spoken from heaven to Jesus:  "You are my beloved.   With you I am well pleased."    In our baptism,  these words are meant for us as well: "You are my beloved.  With you I am well pleased.”

Beloved.  Child of God. 

What difference does it make in our lives when we come to believe we are beloved children of God?  What difference does it make in how we treat each person we meet, when we believe that they are also God’s children?  

In a culture of individualism and competition, it’s a counter-cultural idea to stake our lives on the amazing, gracious love of God, freely given to us—unconditionally.

The early church marveled at this gift when they wrote in First John:  ^“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God--  and that is what we are!”[3]

We believe that.  If you hang out with us at Littlefield, you’ll be issued a name tag that says you are a “Child of God.” 

As followers of Jesus, we believe we are called to love God and our neighbors, to work for peace and reconciliation and justice for all, to embody the love of Jesus Christ in all our relationships. As we grow in faith together, we trust in the Holy Spirit to guide us, to lead us further into the truth, and to empower us to live into God’s Kingdom.   Through the guidance and power of the Holy Spirit, we teach and encourage each other to live in the way of God’s love, the way of God’s wisdom.

One of the great joys of the Christian life is when parents present their children for baptism.  This is their public declaration that they want their child to be a part of the church and to have a ministry in it.

            Baptism is central to our identity as Christians.    As we live into our baptism, we learn who we are and whose we are.  We are nurtured to see ourselves as beloved children of God, and that can make all the difference!

            The baptismal font stands at the front of sanctuary to remind us that we’ve been initiated into this congregation, as well as into the universal church of Jesus Christ.

            In our Presbyterian and Reformed tradition, our understanding of baptism emphasizes God’s initiative.  God reaches out graciously to us, and offers us the gift of life in the kingdom as a free gift.  We respond by dedicating our lives to Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and committing ourselves to follow him.  Baptism is the beginning of our life in the church…a first step in a journey that takes a lifetime.

            When we baptize children, we promise to teach them who they are in the light of God’s truth.  We promise to teach them what makes them different as part of a holy people…a royal priesthood…consecrated to God’s service. 

            When parents present their child for baptism, they promise to live the Christian faith themselves, and to teach that faith to their children, by word and example.  To grow up in the faith, we and our children need to worship and learn together—in our families, and in the faith community which is the church. 

            Today, we’re inviting Dominic to be part of the great adventure we call church. What God will make of Dominic’s life, or where God will lead him, we don’t know. But what we do know-- what we can say with certainty, because we have God’s promise—is that God is with us every step of the way.

            May God bless Dominic and his family and all of us on our adventure in faith, as we live into God’s Kingdom together!

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

May 22, 2016

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^[1] David Lose, “Trinity C: Don't Mention the Trinity!”.  http://www.davidlose.net/2016/05/trinity-c-shh-dont-mention-the-trinity/   

^[2] Karoline Lewis, “Trinity Talk.”  https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?m=4377&post=4648

[3] 1 John 3:1