Baptism: The Quest for God
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
May 18, 1997
Memory Verse: "Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." (John 2:11)
Today's Texts: Acts 1:1-14, Psalm 16:1-11, Ephesians 1:15-23
Opening Prayer: Holy God, baptize us with your Holy Spirit. Relieve and empower us with your love. Amen.
This morning I begin a five-part sermon series on the sacraments. Now everyone hopefully knows that Protestants only have two sacraments, Baptism and Communion, which makes a five-part series rather problematic. But since Congregational churches have a certain independence and freedom to massage things in their own unique way, I hope you will indulge me as we look at five liturgical acts which attempt to say something important about who we are and what we believe.
This series came to mind last summer, when I received three sermon suggestion cards which, I believe, are more interrelated than they may at first appear.
These three cards converge on this day, the day of Pentecost, as on no other day in the church year. How many times have we heard that familiar story in Acts, chapter 2. The disciples were gathered in Jerusalem, waiting for what Jesus called "the baptism of the Holy Spirit." (Acts 1:4f).
This waiting, as in a modern-day cult, could well have been a disaster in the making. Jesus, the leader for whom they had left everything behind, had died. More precisely, he had been executed by a powerful coalition of religious and civil authorities. Nailed to a cross like a common criminal or a seditious radical, Jesus had been quashed at the prime of his career even as John the Baptist had been before him.
But before the disciples could either disband or retaliate, some of them started to report a strange set of occurrences. First, they were unable to find his body after the crucifixion. Second, they were able to find evidence in the scriptures for a messianic martyrdom. Finally, Jesus began to appear in their midst, with a palpable resurrected body, that could eat fish and walk through doors. "Peace I leave with you," he said, "do not doubt, but believe. Love me. Follow me. Feed my sheep even as I have fed you." (John 20:19, 27, 21:12, 15-19).
Apparently Jesus wasn't through with them yet. He even promised to make them his witnesses, to all people everywhere, but not before they were baptized with the Holy Spirit. What would this baptism look like? What exactly were they waiting for? Was this the "end times?" Was Jesus about to return in glory, as the warrior Prince of heaven seeking vengeance upon his enemies? Was Jesus about to establish the Twelve disciples as the patriarchs of a new Israel? Or did God have something totally different in mind?
It was not for them to know the answers to these questions. But waiting for the answers made the disciples a tinder box, ready to explode at the slightest suggestion. The pump was primed. One little spark and this thing could blow sky high. The entire city of Jerusalem was on edge as crowds and authorities continued the posturing which eventually led to the destruction of the Temple and of the city itself. No act of carnage was out of the question. No act of God was beyond imagination.
Finally, on the day of Pentecost, the waiting was over. The winds blew and the heavens shook. The noise spread like wildfire, attracting crowds from all over the city. Residents and visitors alike came running to see what was happening. The disciples, who had heretofore known only the baptism of John, were now experiencing the baptism of Jesus. It was Jesus in the Jordan River, all over again.
This baptism did not take them, like Elijah, and transport them directly to heaven. This baptism did not arm them, like Joshua, and march them directly to the king. This baptism relieved them and empowered them, like Jesus, with the saving grace of God. They could hardly wait to spread the news!
In one fell swoop of the Spirit, the disciples received what they had been longing and waiting for. They were tapped out and given their commission to make a witness. Their tears gave way to triumph as they caught wind of the Spirit that had once animated Jesus himself.
The story is told of the great composer, Gicomo Puccini, whose operas number among the world's favorites -- La Bohème (1896), Tosca (1900), and Madame Butterfly (1904). Even after he was stricken with cancer of the throat in 1922, Puccini was determined to write a final opera, Turandot, which some people consider his best. Fighting the awful cancer, Puccini was implored by his students to rest, to save his strength. But he persisted, remarking at one point, "If I do not finish my music, you will finish it."
In 1924 Puccini was taken to Brussels to be operated on. He died there two days after his surgery with the incomplete score of Turandot in his hands. As he predicted, his students did indeed finish the music. On April 25, 1926 the gala premiere of Turandot was held in the magnificent La Scala Opera House in Milan under the baton of Puccini's favorite student, Arturo Toscanini.
All went brilliantly that evening until they came to the point in the score where the teacher had been obliged to put down his pen. Toscanini, his face wet with tears, stopped the production, put down his baton, turned to the audience and cried out, "Thus far the master wrote, but he died!" After a few minutes of silent sorrow, his sad face produced a smile. Toscanini picked up his baton and cried out again to the audience, "But his disciples finished the work!"
Such was the drama of Pentecost. With the coming of the Spirit, with the baptism of Jesus, the disciples were relieved of their fear and empowered to finish the work he had started. They became teachers and healers in his name. They dressed like him, ate like him, and received others like him -- defying "civilization's eternal inclination to draw lines, invoke boundaries, establish hierarchies, and maintain discriminations." (John Dominic Crossan). They took on the risks and responsibilities of faith, for which they too suffered all manner of humiliations, afflictions, indignities, persecutions, and death.
This became the meaning of Christian baptism: to be chosen and used by God as vessels of grace -- regardless of the cost. Remember the story in Acts 19? A Jew named Apollos, a native of Alexandria, had gone to the city of Ephesus where he founded a small Christian community based upon his understanding of the scriptures and his enthusiasm for the Way of the Lord. The Ephesians were seeking God, and Apollos knew how to help them in their quest.
"Whoever has sinned must repent and sin no more. Whoever has two coats must share with those who have none. Whoever has authority must exercise that authority with justice and fairness. Whoever has power and position must bear fruit worthy of repentance." (Luke 3:3, 8, 10-14).
This was a formula cut straight from the cloth of Old Testament prophecies. Turn your life around, wash yourself clean, make yourself presentable to God, and maybe -- just maybe -- you will receive the blessings of life. This was the baptism of John.
In the baptism of Jesus, things get turned upside down. Suddenly baptism has more to do with God's quest for us than with our quest for God. Suddenly baptism is offered more as a preemptive sign of God's grace than as a judicial reward for our repentance. Suddenly baptism has more to do with turning people into prophets than with turning prophets onto people.
After Paul explained the difference between the two baptisms to the Ephesians, how one was a prelude to the other, they eagerly submitted to Christian baptism with the laying on of hands. Once again, the Holy Spirit started to blow. They spoke in tongues and prophesied about the reign of God. It was Jesus in the Jordan River, all over again.
You may remember the story of Jesus' baptism, how the heavens opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form, as a dove. How there was a voice from heaven saying, "You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." The Spirit then led Jesus into the wilderness and empowered his ministry in Galilee. In other words, it had the same effect on Jesus as it had on the disciples as it had on the Ephesians. It put them all on a different course through the unexpected intervention of God.
I remember hearing a story about the Welsh revivals of the nineteenth century. As people felt the fresh wind of the Spirit they rejoiced in their salvation and sought to live accordingly. This unexpectedly created severe problems for the shipyards along the coast of Wales. Over the years workers had pilfered all kinds of things. Everything from wheelbarrows to hammers had been stolen. However, as people were filled with the Spirit of God, they started to return what they had taken at some personal risk.
But what started as a trickle turned into a tidal wave, and the shipyards of Wales were soon overwhelmed with returned property. They ended up with such huge piles of returned tools that several yards put up signs that read: "If you have been led by God to return what you have stolen, please know that the management forgives you and wishes you to keep what you have taken."
Baptism in ancient Rome had much the same flavor and seriousness. The catechumens, or "hearers," went through a three-year period of preparation for participation in the church. Their commitment was no passing fancy. Idolaters, actors, circus performers, pimps, gladiators, harlots, astrologers, and magicians were rejected outright. Most soldiers and high government officials were also rejected, because of their subservience to the pagan state. The baptism of Jesus demanded a decisive break with the world, an either-or response to its claims. Either one must be determined to be a whole Christian, or one must be no Christian at all.
For three years the catechumens were instructed in the Christian faith. Finally, on Easter Eve, they kept an all-night vigil as a prelude to their baptism on Easter morning. Children were baptized first, with their parents or other relatives responding for them and leading them through the rite if they were too young to respond for themselves. Next, the men were baptized and finally the women -- naked as the day they were born, in a boxlike pool which resembled a tomb. Before entering the water, each catechumen was anointed with the oil of exorcism and asked to make a final, dramatic claim: "I renounce you, Satan, and all your servants, and all your works."
Finally they got to approach the cold, deep waters of the font. "Do you believe in God?" "I believe in God, the Father Almighty." Under the water they went for the first time."Do you believe in Jesus Christ?" "I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son our Lord." Down they went again. "Do you believe in the Holy Spirit?" "I believe." The deacon or deaconess submerged the catechumens for a third and final time.
Following their baptism, the catechumens were anointed again, this time with the oil of thanksgiving, dried off, given new clothes, and escorted into the banquet hall for their first opportunity to join the congregation in prayer and their first taste of the sacred meal. The price of leaving the world behind, whatever the consequences, paled in comparison to the promise of spiritual life. (William H. Willimon, Remember Who You Are: Baptism, A Model for Christian Life, Upper Room Books • Nashville, 1980).
This is the tradition upon which we stand when we baptize children or adults here at First Church. Words are not sufficient to capture the experience. We need outward and visible reminders of God's inward and spiritual grace.
This is why we've taken to inviting the children up around the font, for a children's sermon, whenever we have a baptism. We want them to experience first hand what Christian baptism is like, by water and the Spirit. By the time they get too old to sit on the chancel steps, they will have seen so many baptisms up close and personal that it may take hold of them as powerfully as it did those catechumens in ancient Rome or those Welsh revivalists.
The story of Pentecost is a powerful story that should not be separated from the waters of baptism. There are only two baptisms in the New Testament -- the baptism of John and the baptism of Jesus. John's baptism is by water alone, as part of humanity's effort to measure up the standards of God. Jesus' baptism is by water and the Spirit, as part of God's effort to fill up the emptiness of humanity.
The difference is subtle but profound. Christian baptism does not depend upon us. It depends upon God. Does it make any difference at all? You bet it does. Jesus did not command us to go into all the world, baptizing, teaching, and making disciples, for no reason at all. Baptism by water and the Spirit is the gift of God, for the people of God. It is the threshold for our journey of faith and it covers us with the promise of salvation by grace through faith. Baptism is an outward and visible reminder of who we are and who we want to be.
On this great day of Pentecost: may we all remember our baptisms and be thankful. Amen.
Confirmation: The Quest for Faith
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
May 25, 1997
Memory Verse: "Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." (John 2:11)
Today's Texts: 2 Kings 2:9-15, Psalm 84:1-4, 10-12, and John 3:1-17
Lest there be any confusion about the message of today's sermon, I would like to begin -- on this Memorial Day weekend -- with a recognition of those in our congregation who have served this country in the Armed Forces. Would those who have done so please stand, and remain standing, as we join together in a time of silent appreciation and an opening word of prayer.
Opening Prayer: Loving God, we thank you for the commitment and sacrifice of these men and women. Help us all to learn the value and possibility of putting the needs of others ahead of our own. Motivate and direct us with the power of your word. Inspire and consume us with the vision of your justice and peace for all. We pray this in Christ's name. Amen.
You may be seated.
A few weeks ago I turned on the television and stumbled across a documentary about Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox. Perhaps some of you know his story. Williams was arguably the best slugger of the century. He was a left-handed hitter who played in the outfield with a career that spanned more than 20 years -- from 1939 to 1960. During that time he twice won the Triple Crown -- best batting average, most home runs, and most runs batted in during a single season. He was the last hitter of the 20th century to average more than .400, hitting .406 in 1941. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1966.
Ted Williams was no saint, getting into his share of ugly rows with the umpires and the fans. But when his country called upon him to serve as a flyer in World War II, at the height of his career, at age 24, immediately following that phenomenal .406 season, Ted Williams put it all on hold in order to perform the duty his country was asking of him. As if that wasn't enough, the country called on him again, in the early 1950s, to fight in the Korean War. Boston Red Sox fans decried the induction of their star player as a detestable form of double jeopardy, but Williams again interrupted his career in order to honor a higher calling.
Who knows what Williams might have accomplished in baseball if he hadn't lost those five seasons to the ravages of war. As it was, he hit a total of 521 home runs. But when the commentator asked Williams whether he ever had any regrets about the way things worked out, Williams shook his head no. "I never even thought about it," he said, "there are things which are more important than your batting average."
This comment has stayed with me as a testimony not only to Williams' character but also to a spirit that is sorely lacking in today's society. I took the opportunity, some time ago, to skim through Dennis Rodman's book, Bad As I Want To Be, while browsing at a bookstore. Talk about a decadent display of selfishness and autoeroticism! It's hard to conceive of this man ever doing anything for anyone other than himself. Unfortunately, Dennis Rodman is not alone. He is the flamboyant alter ego of an affluent culture run amuck, where multimillion dollar contracts have justified all manner of unbridled consumption and immediate gratification.
If there's one thing I respect about those who enter military service, in addition to the discipline and organization of the troops themselves, it is the willingness to temporarily set aside one's personal gain and perhaps to even sacrifice one's life for the good of others. Our society would benefit from a large dose of this spirit.
Unfortunately, we seem to have moved in a different direction. Have you noticed the correlation between professional sporting events and commercials for beer, cars, and the armed services? They all have the same subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle, message: "See these incredibly talented and fabulously rich athletes? You can be like them if you just drink the right beer, drive the right car, and join the right service. We'll give you the skills and the cash you need to get yourself started on the American dream."
This is the perhaps the unavoidable byproduct of an all-volunteer army. Patriotism and high ideals are insufficient motivations. Instead, even the military ends up having to appeal to the same selfish motivations which govern the world around us.
Recently, I found myself caught in a web of mixed emotions while listening to a three-star General from Eglin Air Force Base in the panhandle of Florida. The General was a speaker at our weekly Rotary meeting, and he was using a laptop computer to give a very high-tech presentation regarding the new capabilities of our Air Force with their increasingly smart bombs.
"Our mission," he stated at the outset of his presentation, "is to preserve and protect the American way of life from those who would seek to destroy it. We aim to harm and kill the enemy, when called upon, regardless of where the enemy may hide." The General went on to describe the incredible, cost-effective, advances in military technology which are enabling the Air Force to design and build bombs that can be released ten miles from their target with instructions to detonate in a particular bathroom on a particular floor of a particular building.
He indicated that the smart bombs of the future, utilizing the Global Positioning System, would soon make the smart bombs of Desert Storm look as old fashioned as the bombing raids of World War II look to us today. The new smart bombs will be unaffected by weather and will be able bore their way through solid rock before exploding, if that is what it takes to "harm and kill the enemy." The General illustrated his talk with dramatic pictures and film clips demonstrating the awesome of this emerging technology, with tones reminiscent of Star Wars or some other science fiction.
My mixed emotions came from a growing sense of discontinuity between the presentation of the General and the teachings of Jesus. The recruiter television commercials are nowhere near as blatant about the purpose of the military nor as graphic in their depiction of mayhem and destruction as was the General. In order to make sure that the rich can get richer without fear of retaliation or reprisal, a condition Ronald Reagan once defined as the essence of the American way of life, the General boasted of how we had created an enormous killing machine to obliterate those who would seek to have it any other way.
I must say, the General's presentation was enthralling. It was designed to make us feel proud and secure as citizens of the mightiest nation state on earth. I looked around the room, at 400 plus people, most of them men, many with distinguished military careers, and I could tell they were totally absorbed in the spectacle of the moment. But then a still, small voice started to speak to me inside:
"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your friends and hate your enemies.' But I say to you, 'Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you. If you only love those who love you, what reward will you have? If you only say hello to those who greet you, what distinguishes you from anyone else? I'm calling you to live a different way. I'm calling you to live as citizens of God's country, treating others the way God treats you." (Matthew 5:38-48, Luke 6:27-29)
"If you have two coats, and your neighbor has none, then clothe your neighbor. If you have enough food, and your neighbor is starving, then feed you neighbor. If you have power, and your neighbor is victimized, then help your neighbor. Give to everyone who begs from you. Be generous and give to the poor. If anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again." (Luke 3:11-14, 12:33)
"Don't worry about your life or about your body. Life is more than food and the body is more than clothing! Look at the ravens, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, carefree in the care of God. Walk into the field and look at the wildflowers. They don't worry about their appearance, and yet they are as beautiful as can be. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of which are never even seen, don't you think you can trust God to attend to you, take pride in you, and care for you?" (Luke 12:22-31).
The discontinuity was too much to bear. I found myself looking around the room, thinking, "Does anyone else even notice? Does anyone else even care? We start these Rotary meetings, week after week, with prayer. God save us till we meet again."
Confirmation is one of my favorite experiences in the pastoral ministry. For four and a half months my wife and I have an opportunity, on a weekly basis, to go on a spiritual quest with young teenage Christians who are not afraid of where the journey may take them. We observe the contradictions and compatibilities between Christ and culture. We allow ourselves to feel the discontinuities. We ask the ultimate questions of life. And in the end, we decide which god we hope to follow.
Perhaps this, more than any other, is the meaning and import of baptism. That life is not just an organic process resulting from the combination of egg and sperm under the proper conditions and circumstances. That life is rather a spiritual process resulting from the combination of water and Spirit under the proper conditions and circumstances. Thirteen years from now we will be asking Emily and Reid the most basic of questions: what has the God who claimed you in baptism on May 25, 1997 been doing with your life in the past thirteen years and where is that baptism taking you? It doesn't get any more profound than that.
One difference I've seen in working with teenagers for more than 20 years is that the quest for faith has shifted from being primarily an intellectual problem to being primarily an ethical and political problem. There was a time when the most interesting questions of the day were about the existence of God. Is there a God or isn't there? Can you prove the existence of God or do you have to take a "leap of faith?" Even if God created the universe, does God have anything to do with it now?
Today, these intellectual questions have become less interesting. Teenagers readily acknowledge the existence of God and can produce a steady stream of stories that document God's continuing relevance to their lives. Ask teenagers to talk about the signs of God's presence and rather than dead silence you will probably meet with a collection of tales from the far side: miraculous healings, paranormal experiences, strange coincidences, inspirational moments, intuitive hunches, unmistakable voices, and palpable apparitions.
God is alive and well in what some are calling the "age of the Spirit." The question is no longer, "Does God exist?" The question is, "What kind of god should I follow? What is God like? What does God require of me? Who will my friends be and how shall I then live?"
In the still of the night, Nicodemus came to Jesus with a question that was weighing heavily upon his soul: "What was God doing in Jesus of Nazareth?" Nicodemus could tell that Jesus was one with God. How else could Jesus do the things that he did? But so what? What did Jesus have to say to Nicodemus, a man of the Pharisee sect, a prominent leader among the Jews?
"Unless a person is born from above, it's not possible to see the reign of God."
Nicodemus failed to understand. How could anyone do that? You can't reenter your mother's womb and be born again, so what was Jesus talking about?
"Listen to me again. Unless a person submits to this original creation -- the 'wind hovering over the water' creation, the invisible moving the visible, a baptism of new life -- it's not possible to enter the reign of God. When you look at a baby, it's just that: a body you can see and touch. But the person who takes shape within is formed by something you can't see and touch -- the Spirit -- and becomes a living spirit."
Nicodemus still failed to understand. And so the gospel writer laid out the truth in words which have become some of the most familiar in all the New Testament: "This is how much God loved the world: God gave his one and only Son so that no one need be destroyed. By trusting and following him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn't go through all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. God sent his Son in order to put the world right again." (cf. Eugene Peterson, The Message: The New Testament in Contemporary Language, NavPress • Colorado Springs, CO, 1993).
That's the kind of God who claims the lives of children like Emily and Reid. That's the kind of God who watches out for us, even when we fail to watch out for God. That's the kind of God who charges us with a different mission than the one articulated by the three star General from Eglin Air Force Base. That's the kind of God who offers grace even to sinners like you and me.
When we confirm our faith we are setting ourselves apart from the violent and consumptive world around us. We are given a vision, like the one given to Elisha on the banks of the Jordan river, of what we are meant to do and be. It is a vision of the Spirit which should inspire no less commitment, no less sacrifice, and no less organization than serving in the armed forces of the United States of America. But we are serving in the armed forces of God, armed with nothing more and nothing less than the Spirit. I for one hope we will learn to stand tall and to follow that Spirit wherever it may lead. Amen.
Communion: The Quest for Hope
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
June 1, 1997
Memory Verse: "Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." (John 2:11)
Today's Texts: Exodus 24:1-11, Psalm 130:1-8, and 1 Corinthians 11:23-32
Opening Prayer: Amen.
A common mistake, even among long-time church members, is calling the table in the front of our church an "Altar." Our table is properly referred to as a "Communion Table." Catholic churches have "Altars" at which they celebrate the "Eucharist;" Protestant churches have "Communion Tables" at which we celebrate the "Lord's Supper." The difference is not just one of semantics. It goes to the heart of our sacramental theologies, with their distinctive emphases and perspectives.
The word "Altar" comes from a Latin root which means "to burn (something) up." It is a place where sacrifices are made to appease the deity. Some sacrifices are made as signs of devotion, such as when people bring the first fruits of their harvest or a percentage of their income, while other sacrifices are made as signs of reconciliation, such as when people roast the fatted calf or burn incense in order to fill the air with pleasing aromas.
Since Catholics believe that the bread and wine become, in a real sense, the body and blood of Christ they have "altars" at the front of their churches where the sacrifice of Christ can be represented for the salvation of the world. It is removed from the context of the last supper eaten by Jesus with his disciples and set in the context of Good Friday -- where Jesus himself becomes the blood offering which takes away the sins of the world.
The Protestant reformers reacted to this high, priestly theology with various levels of critique. Some found it scandalous to suggest that the sacrifice of Christ needed to be repeated, over and over again, week after week, day after day, as though it was just another human oblation. Others were troubled by the alchemy of turning bread and wine into someone's body and blood. Still others objected to the role of the priests as distinct from the community of believers.
On these grounds, communion was given a different spin. It was put back into the context of its origin, a holy meal, where the presence of God was seen around the table rather than in the elements themselves. The "Communion Table" became the place where people could remember and renew their oneness with God, their oneness with each other, and their oneness in ministry to all the world. This, they argued, is what Paul meant when he urged the Corinthians to "discern the body of Christ while eating and drinking." It wasn't about seeing a transformation in the bread and wine; it was about seeing a transformation in ourselves as the baptized people of God.
Eating and drinking was, after all, a defining mark of Jesus' ministry, from the time of his own baptism at the hands of John the Baptist in the Jordan River. The Jordan was far more than just water; the Jordan was the Spirit of liberation and restoration, of promise and fulfillment.
After this Spirit alighted upon Jesus, in the form of a dove, Jesus proceeded to embody this Spirit in his everyday encounters with people. It was most visible in how he handled the act of eating and drinking, an act which became the defining signature of his life.
Is it any wonder, after all these episodes of eating and drinking, that so many of the resurrection stories would take place around breakfast, lunch, or dinner? Jesus came up to people, and they would hardly recognize him until he sat with them at the table. Then their eyes would be opened. Then they would believe the news. Then they would start thinking in new and different ways.
There must have been something about the way Jesus ate and the Spirit he brought to a meal. That must have been what tipped the disciples off to his resurrection. When our children were we lived with another family and on one particular birthday we decided to videotape the celebration. It's amazing what you can learn about people just by watching them eat. I'm always embarrassed by that tape, since I seem to be in such a hurry to gulp down my food. It is a problem I suffer with yet today.
Jesus projected a very different Spirit. There was no hurry, hurry -- and everyone always had enough to eat. Jesus made sure of that. He also made sure that the table would reflect his values. No special positions of honor for the rich and famous; no exclusions of the poor and infamous. Just an open table to which everyone was invited into the gracious presence of a Spirit-filled person
Such openness is as disruptive and rare today as it was in the time of Jesus. People tend to eat with others of like kind, whether they be family or friends. When you want to raise a lot of money, first you wine and dine your lead gift prospects at fancy, exclusive clubs. Then you work your way down the ladder. And rarely does someone from the Columbus Country Club eat at Faith Mission, or vice-versa. Our democratic society is far more stratified than we might like to believe and the church is in no way exempt.
But this is exactly what the Lord's Supper challenges us to see and to change about ourselves. The gospel is no friend of exclusive, high-society affairs. The gospel is attracted to inclusive, low-society affairs which bespeak of God's love for the nothings and the nobodies, the destitute and the vagrants, the women and the children, the undesirables and the outcasts. When these people are included in our community, we come close the reign of God. When these people are excluded, we separate ourselves from the very Spirit which gave his power in the first place.
"'This cup is the new covenant in my blood,' Jesus said, 'Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.' For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes. Examine yourselves and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment upon themselves." (1 Corinthians 11:25b-26, 28f).
Do you see what you're supposed to see? Do you discern what you're supposed to discern? Look at the people around you in the pews. Go ahead, look.
We are all different, with different needs, different hopes, different resources, different abilities, and different callings. But we are all one in Christ Jesus our Lord. If we cannot affirm our community in Christ. If we cannot see our community in Christ. If we cannot recognize that bringing us together around the table, as a family gathered for Sunday dinner, is the cause for which our Lord suffered and died, then we are indeed in trouble.
The Lord's Supper is filled with mystery and grace, not because of what happens to the bread and wine, but because of what happens to us. We are transformed into the body and blood of Christ as we eat and drink. It's not the sacrifice such as Moses made on the mountain of God. It's the meal and all that goes with it. Until he comes again, between the past and the future, in the meantime, let us eat and be thankful. Amen.
Marriage: The Quest for Love
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
June 8, 1997
Memory Verse: "Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." (John 2:11)
Today's Texts: Genesis 29:15-30, Psalm 100:1-5 and 1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Opening Prayer: Loving God, you have called us into relationship with you and with others. Reveal to us the mystery of your love. Give to us the gift of your Spirit. Amen.
The sacraments, as you may have noticed by now, are tied to significant moments in the course of human life. The church has developed rituals for birth, puberty, vocation, marriage, illness, and death in order to communicate the simple truth that through it all, from beginning to end, God is with us. They become outward and visible signs of what God is doing on an inward and spiritual level. They are mysteries which serve to separate human existence from that of other animals.
Of all the rituals developed by the church, the one which has been subject to the most amount of controversy is Christian marriage. This is due, in part, to the fact that marriage involves the forbidden fruit of sex. It also due to the fact that Jesus was apparently celibate, or at least never married. It is finally due to the fact that so many marriages turn out so poorly. Who would want to sanctify such a problematic affair. With three strikes against it, it's a wonder that marriage made it at all into pantheon of Christian rituals.
Our ambivalent feelings about Christian marriage are reflected in the reactions many people have to the ministry of marriage here at First Church. To the best of my knowledge, we are the only United Church of Christ with an intentional ministry of marriage -- for members and nonmembers alike -- as part of our staffing and program. Some people just roll their eyes, as though we've become a Las Vegas wedding chapel. Other people acknowledge the sincerity of our efforts, but nevertheless disparage the idea that marriage can ever become more than just a show for the mother of the bride. Some ministers take this to the extreme of refusing to do weddings, asserting that they are a distraction from the real business of ministry.
Here at First Church, we have obviously moved in a different direction and have had a different experience. In the gospel of John, Jesus performs his first miracle at a wedding celebration in Cana of Galilee. It was a real show stopper as he turned 150 gallons of water into the best wine people had ever tasted. (John 2:1-11). The wedding feast became, for Jesus, a sign of God's reign which he reenacted around the banquet table over and over again. There is something that doesn't want to give up on the idea that two people can love one another completely, fully, and perfectly. With every marriage ceremony, and every wedding feast, there is reason to hope that true love may eventually be found.
The strange dynamics that accompany the ritual of marriage are illustrated in this morning's classic tale of Jacob's courtship of Rachel. The Old Testament is full of such stories which expose the wiles of the human heart. Even though the prohibition of adultery made it into the Ten Commandments, we find story after story of human selfishness and infidelity.
This morning's story is perhaps the most curious of them all. Jacob travels to his grandfather's hometown in order to find a wife. He meets a shapely and beautiful woman at a well, and is immediately attracted to her. In a macho demonstration of male prowess, Jacob shows off his strength by moving the large, heavy stone which covered the well. The woman turns out to be his first cousin, and that apparently makes her even more desirable in his eyes. He kisses her, tells her all the family news, and gets himself invited to spend time on the family farm. What could be better!
After about a month, his uncle asked Jacob to name his price for all the work he'd been doing around the farm. Breaking with tradition, he asked for the hand of his uncle's youngest daughter in marriage. Jacob was so much in love with his cousin Rachel that he offered to work on the farm for seven years in order to win a lifetime of marital bliss. Recognizing a good deal when he saw one, his uncle accepted the offer with a shrug. Then the years flew by.
When the time finally arrived for the marriage to be consummated, Jacob and Rachel went through the ceremony and had a great feast. But when evening came, his uncle arranged for Rachel's older sister to sneak into the marriage bed with Jacob. Perhaps Jacob had had too much wine at the party, but somehow he failed to notice the switch until morning. By then it was too late; Jacob had been tricked by into marrying the older sister with beautiful eyes. If he still wanted to marry Rachel, the younger sister with a beautiful body, he would have to work on the farm for another seven years.
So what do you think of this story? On the surface, it reads like a Harlequin romance novel. Man meets pretty woman. Man falls in love with pretty woman. Man works for 14 years to marry pretty woman. The fact that other lovers enter into the picture, including the woman's sister and two concubines, makes the story more juicy. Certainly the stuff of a premiere movie presentation on cable TV. But all the other women notwithstanding, only one woman had Jacob's heart. Rachel. The woman of beauty and grace. The woman he first laid his eyes upon at the open well. The woman who made him feel at home.
What was it about this woman that made Jacob so lovesick he was willing to work for 14 years in order to marry her? The Harlequin romance version would have you think it was her beauty. But 14 years is a very long time, beyond the reaches of what beauty alone could sustain. There must have been something else that attracted Jacob to Rachel. Something else that kept him going. Something deeper. Something that held out a promise he could not ignore.
Harville Hendrix, in his best-selling book Getting the Love You Want, describes that something as the recognition that a particular person can help you recreate and resolve the unfinished business of your childhood. Hendrix says that that recognition takes place on less than conscious levels and that it works almost like ESP. Walk into a room of a hundred beautiful people and you will quickly find the one person who triggers your longing for wholeness.
The trigger is a sense of familiarity. Each person has an unique set of positive and negative personality traits which are continuously being transmitted in conscious and unconscious ways. We pick up on these signals and, in the case of romantic love, we gravitate toward those people who feel familiar. They remind us of our families of origin, making them seductively attractive. This is why people so often develop relationships with people who have similar personality traits and who bring similar dynamics to the relationship.
Hendrix notes that all of us come away from childhood, regardless of how wonderful our homes may have been, with a variety of wounds -- psychological, social, spiritual, sometimes even physical. There is no way to leave behind the comfort of the womb without a measure of brokenness and pain. No parents, no matter how devoted, are able to respond perfectly to all the changing needs of a child. As much as we might like to do so, there's no way to spare anyone completely.
All of life, from cradle to the grave, can be therefore viewed as a journey back toward the comfort of the womb, a time when we were in effortless communion with the universe. In romantic love, we meet people who we sense can help us on that journey. These people remind us of home -- both with our families of origin and, in a deeper sense, with God. We develop intimate relationships with these people in the hope of healing life's hurts and of recovering our sense of original wholeness.
The disturbing part of Hendrix' analysis is that it means we are attracted to people more because of their negative traits than because of their positive traits. If we are going to heal life's hurts, then we have to find people who can reopen those wounds and who can work on them with us in both conscious and unconscious ways. Hendrix encourages people do a mental walk through their childhood, drawing pictures above and below the line, in order to get a handle on why they may seem to be looking for love in all the wrong places.
There is a story about a man and a woman who were celebrating their Golden Wedding Anniversary -- fifty years of married life. Having spent most of the day with relatives and friends at a big party given in their honor, they were back home again. They decided, before retiring, to have a little snack of tea with bread and butter. They went into the kitchen where the husband opened up a new loaf of bread and handed the end piece (the heel) to his wife. Whereupon she exploded!
"For fifty years," she said, "you have been dumping the heel of the bread on me. I will not take it anymore; this lack of concern for me and what I like." On and on she went in the bitterest of terms, for offering her the heel of the bread. The husband was absolutely astonished at her tirade. When she had finished he said to her quietly, "But it's my favorite piece."
Who knows all the dynamics which contributed to that miscommunication! Hendrix believes they ultimately stem from the early childhood dynamics of each partner, playing themselves out over the course of a lifetime.
Here the story of Jacob is particularly illuminating. Do you remember the stories of Jacob's childhood? He was born as the younger of fraternal twins. Before they were born, their mother Rebekah heard the voice of God saying, "In your womb are two nations, two separate peoples, and the older shall serve the younger."
Rebekah no doubt repeated that story to her twin sons, on more than one occasion. It led Jacob to coerce his brother into giving up his birthright as the oldest son. It also led him to lie and trick his father into giving him the deathbed blessing which rightfully belonged to his brother. No wonder Jacob ends up seeing visions of stairways to heaven and wrestling with God. The man had had his fill of wounds!
When Jacob finally met Rachel at the open well, fleeing his brother's wrath, Hendrix would argue that Jacob unconsciously and almost immediately recognized someone who could help him with the pathos of his childhood. He could know without knowing that Rachel had a family, with their own strange dynamics, and that with her he could work off the burden of his guilt and pay the price for his brother's tears.
Jacob Needleman tells an ancient Hasidic tale in which a rabbi is asked the following question by a pupil, referring to Deuteronomy 6:6 -- "And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart." "Why is it said this way?" the pupil asks. "Why are we not told to place them IN our heart?" The rabbi answers that it is not within our power to place the divine teachings directly in our heart. "All that we can do is place them on the surface of the heart so that when the heart breaks they will drop in." Consciousness and Tradition (Crossroad Publishing Co. • New York, 1982).
This is the mystery of what we discover about love in Christian marriage. For all the pomp and circumstance of the wedding day itself, for all the gaiety and frivolity, for all the appearance of everything being "just right," there is a critical but hidden undercurrent to the total composition. That current may not surface for some years to come, but it is the deep reason we got together with this person. To open our psychological wounds in order to move us closer to wholeness. To break our heart in order to move us closer to God.
So the apostle Paul encourages us to appreciate the hard work of love as the most important work of all. Without love we are nothing! Without love we are headed for disaster. Love is patient and kind. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never ends.
Hendrix sees these "things" as the inevitable wounding that is created and recreated in every romantic relationship. We may think it's the good stuff, but it's really the bad stuff which holds the greatest potential. For a time we may resent and rebel against being wounded all over again, but if we hang in there, and work through the inevitable difficulties, we have the potential to know and to be fully known as only God can do.
This is why I give our ministry of marriage such importance. Through this ministry we start people on the adventure of a lifetime. Through this ministry we participate with God in a seduction of the Spirit that holds out the promise of healing and wholeness. Through this ministry we engage people in the movement of love itself. Amen.
Ordination: The Quest for Purpose
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
June 15, 1997
Memory Verse: "Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." (John 2:11)
Today's Texts: Isaiah 6:1-8, Psalm 20:1-9, 1 Timothy 4:6-16
Opening Prayer: God of Voice and Wind, you call us to commitment and you move us to ministry. Speak to us now with the fresh wind of your Spirit that we may be encouraged and blessed as your servants in the world. Amen.
A few weeks ago I wrote an article in our newsletter regarding my support, and the support of the United Church of Christ, for open and affirming churches. Open and affirming churches make a public statement that all people everywhere are welcome in the body of Christ. That position may seem to be innocent enough, perhaps even obvious, but it is actually a very controversial one. It may even be the very dynamic which got Jesus crucified in the first place, some 2,000 years ago.
All people everywhere are welcome in the body of Christ? Even the people who crouch at the exit ramps holding cardboard signs which say, "Will work for food?" Even the people who don't know how to behave themselves in worship? Even the people who develop same-gender spousal relationships? Even the people who society incarcerates as dangerous criminals? Even the people who are sick with AIDS or other infectious diseases? Even the people who seek different music, different sermons, and different religious experiences?
God help us all if we throw open the doors of the church to all people everywhere! Who knows what the Spirit may blow in with it. Last week I went into education wing in order to get some children's toys. It was about 6:30 in the evening and as I went into one room I pulled up short because three Middle Eastern men were lying prostrate on the floor, facing east, saying their prayers to Allah. See what I mean? It's dangerous to become an open and affirming church. Some people have suggested that it was bold of me, after everything we went through last year, to come right back to such a controversial position.
I suppose some people just can't help themselves. Perhaps you saw the story in last week's Time magazine about 17 year-old Alison Williams. Alison has lived in Hernando, Mississippi since she was 11 years old. By now, six years later, you might think she would have caught on. We are, after all, talking about the deep south where they have their own way of doing things.
Hernando High School has two principals: one white and one black. Each class has two class presidents: one white and one black. Other school-wide offices are required to alternate between the races, from one year to the next. For a time, Alison didn't say a thing. But when she was elected in May as next fall's student-body president, she decided to come out of the closet and to let people know what she thinks of a system with so many positions based upon race. She thought it was the wrong way to go about things on the brink of the 21st century.
Her position has proven to be terribly unpopular. Teachers have shunned her. Friends have dumped her. And neighbors have called her names. Without support from her parents, who have promised to stand behind her no matter what, Alison might have given it up by now. But instead, she has become a national "model for challenging accepted practice and sparking debate, no matter how sticky the issue or unpopular the cause." (Time, June 16, 1997).
What makes a 17 year-old high school senior leave the crowd and take such a stand, in the heart of Mississippi, at such great personal cost? The article emphasizes the influence of her parents, who lived all over the world during Alison's first decade of life as an Air Force brat. From her father she picked up courage, from her mother conviction, to go along with her own experience that people were people, and should be treated as such, regardless of their race, religion, sex, or national origin.
I wish the article had said more about what makes Alison Williams tick. I know for myself it has taken more than just a good set of parents and a broad life experience. Those are important, but many people can claim such a foundation. It doesn't necessarily lead them to promote open and affirming churches, or to attack a race-based school system. Instead, most people are content to make their mark within the boundaries set by society. They have no desire to make waves or to take risks on behalf of others.
What has made the difference in my life, what had made me march to the beat of a different drummer, has been the person and church of Jesus Christ. On four separate occasions I have been called or marked as a person set apart from the ways of the world.
These are the events that have stood out in my life as transformational. They have lifted me out of the ordinary business of making a living into the extraordinary business of making a life. When I die, like others before me, I would hope that someone could say, "He made a difference. He made a difference for justice. He made a difference for peace. He made a difference for people too often ignored, too often oppressed, and too often consumed by the ways of the world. He made a difference for the cause of Christ."
This, it seems to me, goes to the heart of what the church means by ordination. We are given a sense of purpose which transcends ourselves and draws us close to the very heart of God. Once it gets hold of our lives, once it gets under our skin, it refuses to let go. We begin to see things from a new point of view and we can hardly keep from speaking out when we see the mark of the beast masquerading as the badge of beauty. Without baptism, confirmation, and ordination I'm not sure I would have the courage and conviction to act upon my conscience and to trust in the outcome. With them, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
This is the tradition upon which ordination is based. Who can forget the vision of the prophet Isaiah? In the year King Uzziah died, Isaiah saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty. All the attendants of heaven were singing out loud: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of thy glory."
Isaiah could not contain himself. Unclean mortals were not accustomed to seeing such transcendent glory. But one of the attendants released him from the burden of guilt and the wages of sin, symbolically touching his lips with a live coal. Then Isaiah heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And he found it within himself to say, "Here am I, Lord, send me!"
This is the internal call upon which ordination is based. But the call does not come at the time of ordination and it is not restricted only to those who spend their lives in service to the church. The internal call comes prior to ordination and is a fruit of the Spirit symbolized by baptism and confirmed in the course of life. The article failed to comment, but Alison Williams may well be heeding a call which goes far beyond the influence of her parents and the extent of her experience.
On this score, I'm not sure the church has done us a favor by ordaining only those people who are called to preach the word, serve the sacraments, and order the church. We are all called, each and every one of us, to advance the gospel of God at the point of our individual station in life. Whether we are in school, like Alison Williams, in the workplace, or in the home -- there are opportunities to witness and to serve which go beyond the obvious requirements of our situation.
If we fail to seize these opportunities, life will indeed be a chore. We will find ourselves bored to death, without a sense of meaning and purpose, if it all comes down to nothing more than going through the motions. There is more to life than getting up in the morning, doing our task, eating our meals, and going to sleep at night -- over and over again. There is, instead, the opportunity to make a difference in someone's life. To stand up for someone who is oppressed. To listen to someone who is lonely. To care for a total stranger. To love an intimate friend.
These are the charges which God has placed upon our lives as Christians. They are not the private purview of ordained ministers, who often do the worst job of all. They are rather the general ministry which has been given to all Christians in service to a broken world. Each and every one of us has a part to play in this ministry, and until we come to claim that part with love our lives will be nothing more than a noisy going or a clanging cymbal.
Perhaps this is why Timothy was encouraged to nurture his gift of the Spirit, which was given to him through prophecy with the laying on of hands. The charge is not something which can be taken for granted, It is, instead, something which must be nourished with constant attention and practice. "To this end we toil and struggle," the letter states, "because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially those who believe. These are things that you must insist on and teach." (1 Timothy 4:10f).
There it goes again. "We have our hope set on the living God, the Savior of all people." Not just the good people. Not just the people like us. Not just the oppressed people. Not just the faithful people. "The Savior of all people, especially those who believe." It's almost as though faith is the sugar that helps the medicine go down. But go down it will, one way or another, until all people everywhere are drawn into the reign of God.
So stay away from those who tell you otherwise! Stay away from profane myths and ancient tales. Instead, train yourself in godliness as the most valuable exercise of all. Physical exercise improves your body, but godliness improves your soul. It helps you to seize each and every day as an opportunity to rejoice in the goodness of God and to share that joy with others.
What kind of person are you? Have you found ways to live out the call of Christ in your everyday life, or have you lost sight of what it means to call yourself a baptized believer in the goodness and mercy of God? Do you just go through the motions, and then with a bad attitude, or do you treat your life as a ministry with a strong sense of purpose?
At an east coast retreat house called "Dayspring," when a retreat has ended the participants follow a custom of making their own bed and leaving a note for the next occupant of the room. Usually the note contains a little prayer or some word of encouragement. One retreatant found the following note under his pillow when he arrived:
"Observations of a skeptic. I don't want to be told that God loves me or that Jesus loves me. I want to feel that the people who call themselves Christian love me. Then perhaps I can realize the love of God and the love of Christ. I don't want to be told about the love of God and then find eyes averted when I look straight at a Christian. I want to see God's love in eyes that are unafraid to look into mine, eyes that shine from a soul that is sincere."
"I want to experience God's love through a smile that says, 'I love you, I accept you right where you are. I want genuinely to be your friend, now and when we leave this retreat place.' Then, maybe, I can begin to believe in that love from God through this strange Christ that Christians talk so much about. And if I believe, then perhaps I too can live in love and give it to others. And, you know, I think I did find some of God's love here this weekend. Be ready on your retreat to receive it, and be ready to give it. Peace."
This needs to be our focus as Christians: to develop a soul that is sincere, to receive the love of Christ and to give love to others, to serve as ministers in a great priesthood of all believers. With every passing month, I have seen the increase of this Spirit in our church. In the absence of a second ordained minister on the staff, many people have been sharing more of themselves in the general ministry of the church. This has been an unexpected blessing for us all.
So we celebrate the sacraments: baptism to invoke and communion to celebrate the Spirit of God. Along the way we confirm, marry, and ordain people in the ministry of the church. We do this to hold on to the promise which has been present in creation since the beginning of time. We do this to give our lives meaning and purpose in what otherwise would be a rather aimless and sinful existence. We do this to embrace the gifts of God for the people of God, that all people everywhere might know the wonders of God's love. Amen.