Sermon for All Saints Sunday, Psalm 24, Psalm 34:1-10, 22

Sermon 11/1/19

Psalm 24, Psalm 31:1-10, 22

All Saints Sunday

Years ago, one of my pastors while I was in my college years sent one of those email forwards that used to be so popular. I’ve tried to find the source of the original, but it seems to be anonymous. The email was called “The Quiz” and it went like this: "Take a few moments to think about your answers to the following questions. Question 1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world. 2. Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest. 3. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize. 4. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for Best Actor and Actress. 5. Name the last decade's worth of World Series Winners. How did you do? If you are like most people, you can only fill in a few names here and there, but usually can't remember who did what and who won what. The point is most of us don't remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They're the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

“Now, here's another quiz. See how you do on this one: 1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school. 2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time. 3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile. 4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special. 5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with. 6. Name a half dozen non-celebrity heroes whose stories have inspired you. Easier? Of course. We have no problem remembering the people who have helped to shape us. We remember those who have inspired us and encouraged us. These are the people we tell our friends about. These are the people that hold a place in our heart. These are the people we truly value."

I had that email on my mind as I was thinking about today. Today we’re remembering not the Nobel winners and Oscar winners - not unless they had some personal connection to us. No, we’re remembering the ones who have helped us in difficult times, who made us feel special, whose stories have inspired us, who have taught us, the ones who hold a place in our hearts. Today, we’re celebrating All Saints Sunday. Most of us know that means that we’re remembering and giving thanks for those who have died during the last year in particular in the life of our congregation and families and community. But underneath that, we might be asking, “What is a saint exactly?” because we tend to use the word to mean some kind of “perfect, holy person” in our everyday vocabulary, and although we loved the folks we are remembering today, we do know that they weren’t always perfect. 

So what is a saint, anyway? The word in the Bible literally just means “holy ones.” It’s used to describe people mostly in the writings of the apostle Paul, and he uses it to refer almost entirely to living people, and certainly not perfect people. He refers to the apostles, the original followers of Jesus, as saints, and although we admire them, we know that Peter and the rest were not perfect, and since Paul and Peter were fighting constantly, we know Paul didn’t think Peter was perfect either! Paul also refers to broader groups of Jesus-followers as saints, both those who he is writing about, and those to whom he is writing. And in both Romans and 1 Corinthians, Paul begins his letter by calling his audience those who are “called to be saints,” called to be “holy ones.” 

Next we might ask: “Well, what does it mean to be holy?” Because again, when we use the word holy we have certain pictures in our head about what that means, and it usually isn’t a word we use to describe ourselves. What does holy mean? Perfect? Super close to God? Very pious? Last Sunday we celebrated Consecration Sunday. And we use that word a lot in the church - consecration. It’s also what we call it when we bless the bread and cup for communion and ask God to make them into the Body of Christ for us - that part of the prayer is called the “prayer of consecration.” Consecration basically means to add sacredness, holiness, to something ordinary. We ask God to take our ordinary stuff - our money, or the bread and grape juice - and make it into something holy - something that’s set apart for God’s purposes. We ask God to help us make ordinary things vessels for God’s work. Consecrated. 

So, saints - holy ones - are when regular people offer their ordinary lives to God and ask God to make them holy. Saints are people who let God work in and through them so that they in turn can do the work of God in the world. That’s it. And that’s quite enough! We don’t need to be perfect, although we strive, day by day, to be a bit more like Jesus, to follow him more closely, to love like he taught us, like he loved us. We don’t just ask God to make our lives holy and stop there, doing nothing to be open to how God might accomplish that in us, how God might have to change us, mold us, challenge us as we’re made holy. And so perhaps that’s what we see in others when we call them saints: we notice when people are particularly receptive to giving their lives to God to make them holy, and then are particularly open to letting God move right into their hearts and lives in order to accomplish just that. 

I was sharing with our Bible study this week that I was thinking about Mr. Rogers this week when we were talking about saints, because I’d seen a short video, about 4 minutes, with interviews from some of folks working on the upcoming film A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, where Tom Hanks stars as Fred Rogers. If we had more time today I’d just play the video, and I hope we maybe take a church outing to see the movie when it comes out later this month. In this video, Tom Junod, the interviewer whose interactions with Mr. Rogers are portrayed in the film, says, “[Fred Rogers] had that amazing gift, of looking at a person and seeing what that person needed, that he was going to minister to that person … When I think of Fred, I often think of him in terms of what he did every morning, which was pray and think of the people he needed to pray for and write to those people.” Actor Matthew Rhys, who plays Junod, says, “His ability for empathy was enormous. What he could do immediately to any person with any kind of problem, any human condition, was relate to it.” Frank Warininsky, a lighting guy on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, said, “If you hit Fred on the right day, or Fredhit you on the right day, he could change your life.” Powerful words. And then, in a clip from the upcoming film, Mr. Rogers’ wife is asked, “How does it feel to be married to a living saint?” And she answers, “If you think of him as a saint, then his way of being is unattainable. You know he works at it all the time. It’s a practice. He’s not a perfect person. He has a temper. He chooses how he responds to that anger.”

I was really struck by her response. I think it’s so important that we understand what we mean when we celebrate All Saints day, because if we think saints are perfect people, when we give ourselves an “out” from trying to be saints ourselves. We give ourselves an “out” from responding to the apostle Paul when he says we’re called to be saints. But saints are saints not because they’ve done something we can’t, something we can never attain. They’re saints because they allowed God to do something in and through them, because they let God make their ordinary holy. So I think Mr. Rogers is a saint. But we can be too. We can’t get away with saying things like, “I’m no Mother Teresa.” We talked just a couple of weeks ago about the struggles she had, how she wrestled with faith too. The only reason we can’t be Mother Teresa is because there’s only one of each of us. You can be you, which is the best thing for you to be. And you can be a saint of God, a holy one, called to just that path, called to give your ordinary self, so that God can do holy stuff with your life - whatever shape that might take: A person who listens and loves well. A person who builds others up. A person who loves relentlessly. A person who sees those others skip over. A person who forgives. A person who serves. That saint can be you. 

At the end of our service today, we’ll sing a hymn called “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.” Each verse talks about all the places we can find God’s saints: those who loved God, who follow Jesus, who we find at home, at the store, in our neighborhoods. And each verse concludes with the hope: “I meant to be [a saint] too.” Ironically, Lesbia Scott, who wrote the hymn for her children, was surprised, even dismayed that a little song for kids became so popular. But maybe she forgot the point of her own words. (1)  Today, we celebrate all the saints, in all the places in our lives we have found them. And let us mean, God helping, to be saints too, whose ordinary lives are made holy by God. Amen. 

1. https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/history-of-hymns-i-sing-a-song-of-the-saints-of-god

Sermon, "Voices from Prison: Paul and Silas," Acts 16:16-40

Sermon 7/15/18
Acts 16:16-40

Voices from Prison: Paul and Silas

Of the many folks we hear about who end up in prison in the Bible, the apostle Paul probably spends the most time there. As I mentioned last week, some of the epistles in the Bible, the letters, are letters that were written by Paul while in prison. Philippians, Philemon, and Colossians were all written by Paul while he was in prison, although we’re not always sure which of Paul’s multiple times in prison is the setting for each letter. It’s not surprising that he ends up in jail so frequently. He’s a Jewish man, preaching about this person Jesus Christ, and wherever he goes, he’s sharing a message that is in stark contrast to those who hear him. Many of his fellow Jewish leaders don’t appreciate his understanding of Judaism and how he speaks about Jesus as someone who both fulfills and transcends the law, and the Gentiles - the non-Jews to whom Paul preached most often don’t understand his or appreciate his Jewish identity or why because of Jesus they should become a part of this faith tradition. Everywhere, people find Paul’s words or practices upsetting, and so everywhere, he’s getting into trouble with the authorities in town, sometimes beaten, sometimes being called on to defend himself, sometimes ending up in prison. Eventually, although we don’t know Paul’s fate specifically, it is believed Paul was beheaded by the Emperor of Rome, Nero, famous for his persecution of religious minorities, including Christians. 

I knew, then, that I wanted to include Paul in this series on Voices from Prison, since I believe his experiences in prison shape his faith and his understanding of the freedom we experience in Christ significantly. His letters are littered with the language of captive, imprisoned, and freedom, and he both calls himself a prisoner of Jesus Christ, and speaks about how Christ sets us free. So what does Paul experience in prison that shapes his understanding of faith? Today we turn to a reading from the Acts of the Apostles, written by Luke, the gospel-writer, to delve into one of Paul’s trips to prison.  

The beginning of chapter 16 of Acts tells us that Paul and Silas and a group of other disciples in the early church are visiting Philippi to share the gospel there. Philippi is the community to whom Paul writes the letter that we know in our Bible as Philippians. At the beginning of the chapter, they meet a woman named Lydia, a business woman, a cloth dealer, and she and her whole household are baptized after learning about Jesus. Lydia urges the missionaries to stay at her home - she’s a woman of some wealth and can provide for everyone - and she persuades them. When our text for today begins, the apostles are using her house as a home-base, and from there each day heading out to preach and share the gospel with others. As they’re doing this each day, they encounter a girl who is a slave who brings her owners a lot of money by telling people’s fortunes, because, we read, she has a “spirit of divination.” When she sees Paul and the others, she starts to follow them and yell out, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.” She does this every day. Like many who have what the scriptures call “unclean spirit” or are in some way “possessed by spirits,” she’s not saying anything that’s not true. But her following Paul and the gang around also doesn’t seem to be helping them find the nice introduction to talking about Jesus that they’re hoping for. Paul, Acts tells us, is “very much annoyed.” And so prompted apparently by his annoyance rather than a desire to heal the girl, Paul orders the spirit to come out of her in the name of Jesus Christ. And it does. 
And suddenly, this slave girl has lost her money-making capacity for her owners. It doesn’t sit well with them. They seize Paul and Silas, drag them to the local magistrates, and accuse them: “These men are disturbing our city; they are Jews and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to adopt or observe.” The crowds join in with the accusations, and the local authorities have them stripped, beaten and flogged, and thrown in prison. The prison guard puts them in the innermost cell and fastens their feet in stocks. Prisons in biblical times were not nice places at all. “Prison time” wasn’t a typical sentence - prison was merely a holding place for those awaiting trial, and sometimes release, but often another punishment, or execution. Prisons were overcrowded. They were dark, and the inner cells, which Acts is careful to note to us is where Paul and Silas are held, would usually be entirely dark. Chains to bind prisoners were heavy, iron chains, which were particularly painful to bodies that had just been beaten and flogged. Hygiene was pretty lacking. Food was minimal - most prisoners had to rely on visitors to sustain them with food and drink of any substance. Many prisoners would be kept together in one cell. It’s a dreadful situation.* 

          Somehow, though, Paul and Silas find the strength to spend their time in prison praying and singing hymns. It’s midnight, and the text says that other prisoners are listening to them. Imagine them all in the stifling darkness, but Paul and Silas are lifting up words of hope. Suddenly, there’s an earthquake. The quaking causes the doors of the prison to be opened, and the chains of all the prisoners to fall off. The jailer wakes, sees the chaos, and gets ready to take his own life, despairing at the complete failure of his job. But Paul and Silas have not escaped - and neither have any other prisoners, for whatever reasons they might have been there. Paul speaks to prevent the jailer from hurting himself, and the jailer rushes in with lights, falls down before Paul and Silas, and asks what he must do to be saved. Apparently, he knows enough about what Paul and Silas have been arrested for to know they seem to have some compelling message to share. 

           Paul and Silas tell the jailer about Jesus. They share the good news of God’s grace not just with him, but with the whole household. And the jailer and his family decide to be baptized and to become Jesus-followers without delay. They feed Paul and Silas, and care for their wounds, and keep them in the house instead of the prison. When morning comes, the authorities send word to release Paul and Silas, and send them away. You’d think they’d rejoice at this news, but Paul instead responds: “They have beaten us in public, uncondemned, men who are Roman citizens, and have thrown us into prison; and now are they going to discharge us in secret? Certainly not! Let them come and take us out themselves.” He wants some accountability for the way they’ve been treated, for what we might call the lack of due process they’ve endured. Paul’s status as a Roman citizen gives him special rights, and his words grab the attention of the authorities, who indeed come and apologize. Still, they want Paul and Silas out of town now. So Paul and Silas are officially freed. They say their farewells to Lydia and the other Christians there, and leave town. 

There are so many layers of imprisonment and freedom in this passage. It’s about more than just Paul and Silas. First, there’s the slave girl. She is not free - she is a slave, and she’s bound up by this spirit that has especially made her a pawn of her masters. Something makes her call out to Paul and Silas day after day, shouting for anyone who will listen that these people have a message of salvation. Notice that we don’t hear anything else about her after Paul releases her from the spirit. We only know that Paul’s actions in her left her owners very, very angry. Paul didn’t seem to be motivated in healing her by a desire to help her, did he? He just wanted her to be quiet, I think! But Paul’s actions, though they free her from a spirit that apparently consumed her life, did nothing to free her from her slavery. Instead, they make her worthless to her owners. I’ve heard people use the phrase “freedom isn’t free.” We talk about this when we’re weighing the costs of “freedom,” and noting that rarely does what we name freedom come without some kind of price. Freedom has consequences. Paul acts on this girl’s life and bestows on her one kind of freedom. It is not for her benefit, unfortunately. Sometimes, when we’re “freeing” others with whatever actions we think are best, we’re not thinking about the consequences. When it comes to working to fight against injustice, against harm to others, against oppression, against wrongdoing, how can we make sure that what we think of as a gift of freedom to others is actually setting them free? I hope Paul had a chance to think of that slave girl, and wonder how her life unfolded after his actions. 

There is, of course, the imprisonment and freedom of Paul and Silas. They’re beaten and bound and in prison, and yet they possess within themselves a well of faith that they draw on that leaves them seeming free, even though they are in physical chains. Their trust in God leaves them with a deep contentment. They seem free from worry about their fate. I don’t mean to say that they don’t care if they live or die. I believe Paul had many plans about all the people with whom he wanted to share the gospel. I mean that he’s not anxious for the future. He’s with God when he’s in prison or out of prison. He’s a disciple of Jesus in prison or out of prison. There’s no external forces that seem to shake Paul and Silas’s faith. They’re singing and praying in prison. Even when the doors are unlocked for them by the earthquake, and their chains are loosened, they don’t rush to escape. This, I think, is the freedom in Christ that Paul talks about. His faith makes him secure in whatever he experiences. I just finished reading Braving the Wilderness by Brené Brown last week, and she returns in her book again and again to a statement from Dr. Maya Angelou from a 1973 TV interview. Angelou said, “You are only free when you realize that you belong no place - you belong every place - no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great.” (5) I love that. I think Paul and Silas embody that. They belong to Christ - to no place, and every place. The cost of their freedom in Christ is high. Eventually, Paul pays with his life. But the reward is great. Paul wouldn’t trade his experiences for anything, after experiencing new life in Christ, after accepting God’s unwavering, unconditional love and grace. 

And then there is the jailer. He’s the one that seems to have the most freedom in this story. He’s no slave girl, and he’s not locked up like Paul and Silas. And yet, when the earthquake happens, we immediately see how bound this man is. He exists in a system that makes it seem like taking his own life is the only possible solution. He exists in a system that would apparently punish him for the escape of prisoners even though it would have been due to circumstances completely beyond his control. He seems free, but he’s bound, chained to this punitive system that means his life can come crashing down around him with one unexpected earthquake. He has power, but he knows his power is tenuous and can be snatched away at any second. He should be calm and in control, but it is Paul and Silas who have to comfort him. Power and status, wealth and position - these things give us the illusion of freedom. But the hidden costs are deeply soul-crushing, meaning this man, this jailer feels his life is worthless without his position. How easily we can become chained by these external things that promise to give us value, promise us freedom, and leave us feeling more bound than ever! 

         When we talk about freedom, I want us to ask ourselves two questions: Free from what and free for what? Christ offers us new life, and sets us free. But I want us to know what we’re being set free from. What is binding you up? What has you chained? What has your soul imprisoned? What are you so reliant on that if it came crashing down you’d think your life was no longer of value? Christ sets us free from sin, free from the power of that which seeks to separate us from God, free from the endless quest to earn the love that God has already offered us. How does your faith make it so external chains can’t prevent you from singing hymns and witnessing to your faith, because you know who you are, who you serve, who loves you? How can Jesus set you free? 

         And what will Jesus set you free for? In our traditional United Methodist communion liturgy, there’s a prayer of confession that precedes the sharing of communion, one that you’ll find adaptations of in many Christian traditions. I invite you to share in it with me (UMH page 12): “Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart. We have failed to be an obedient church. We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy. Forgive us, we pray. Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” I am so struck by this phrase: Free us for joyful obedience. Paul and Silas were free to serve God with their whole hearts and their whole lives. We are too. We’re free to joyfully follow in the footsteps of Jesus. We’re free to do God’s will, follow God’s way, embrace God’s love, love our neighbors, and hear - with compassion, not annoyance - the cries of the needy. We’re free in a way that gives life - true, abundant life.  The price is high. The reward is great. In Christ Jesus, we have been set free. Let’s live like people who know it. Amen. 


*Insights and information on first-century prisons found here: Derrick G. Jeter, 
https://www.insight.org/resources/article-library/individual/doing-time-in-a-first-century-prison, and here in these class note: Simón Apablazam, https://www.scribd.com/doc/14354155/Life-in-Prison-in-1ad

Sermon, "Singing the Story: Victory in Jesus," 1 Corinthians 15:50-58

Sermon 9/3/17

1 Corinthians 15:50-58

Singing the Story: Victory in Jesus

The last hymn in our hymn story series is a southern gospel classic, “Victory in Jesus.” According to the Origin of Songs website, Eugene Monroe Bartlett, Sr.  “was born on Christmas Eve in 1885 near Waynesville, Missouri …  [He] dedicated his life to Jesus at an early age … Bartlett lived in the south and enjoyed a reputation as a fine music teacher. Based in Arkansas, he traveled the entire southern portion of the country holding singing schools for anyone interested. These … schools trained aspiring musicians in vocal technique, sight reading,” using a unique method called shape note singing, “and conducting and [they] were influential in the development of church music as a whole for much of the remainder of the century.

“Bartlett … was a very successful business man, and decided to invest his money [and eventually with it he] founded the Hartford Music Company in Hartford, Arkansas sometime in 1918.  Within the first year of business he sold more than 15,000 copies of his hymnbook. Many writers, singers and musicians received their first opportunity in gospel music at Hartford Music Company including Albert E. Brumley who wrote ‘I'll Fly Away’” (which we’ll sing later on.) (1)

Of all of his songs, nearly all have fallen out of regular use save one, our focus for today, “Victory in Jesus.” “In 1939, a stroke rendered Bartlett partially paralyzed and unable to perform or travel.  He spent the last two years of his life bedridden.  Amid such bleak circumstances, he wrote his final and most beloved song … The … verses and refrain enthusiastically tell of one's own personal salvation experience from beginning to end. It's said that Bartlett missed traveling and teaching, but he could still study the Bible, a study from which he gave us this wonderful song during a time when much of the earth sat on the brink of World War II.”  (1) Despite all of his successes, it is from this song, born of Bartlett’s faith through suffering, that we remember today.

            “Victory in Jesus” draws on the imagery we find in 1 Corinthians 15. Our scripture lesson today comes from the first of two letters that we have from the apostle Paul to the growing early church community of Corinth. Chapter 15 is a weighty chapter, and I recommend you take some time this week to read this whole thing. In it, Paul tackles the themes of resurrection and eternal life. He starts by reminding the Corinthians of the good news that Paul has proclaimed to them, which he sums up as this: Christ died for our sins, was buried, and then resurrected, and Paul counts himself as a beneficiary and messenger of the grace of God received through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. On these points, Paul’s audience seems to agree.

            But apparently, some of the Corinthians have been arguing that we, humans, are not resurrected after death. This isn’t surprising – in Judaism and in other religious traditions that would have been part of the culture of the Corinthian community, many dismissed the concept of eternal life. But for Paul, such a conclusion means that his whole life’s work is meaningless. He makes a kind of logic argument. He says: Jesus died and was resurrected as human being. He was fully human, even as he was fully divine. And if he was fully human, and Jesus was resurrected, then resurrection is possible. You can’t, Paul argues, believe in the resurrection of Jesus, but not human resurrection in eternal life. If humans don’t experience resurrection, neither can Jesus. And if Jesus wasn’t resurrected then Paul’s work and our faith are in vain, because Paul has been mispresenting God, we are still mired in sin because death was not conquered, and we have no hope. In fact, Paul says, if this life was all there was, how could he have the courage to risk this life for the work of Christ? But in Christ, the last enemy, death, is destroyed, because God has power over all things, power realized in Jesus.

            Paul says another topic he’s heard being discussed by Corinthians is speculation over how we experience resurrection. What will our bodies be like? Paul uses the metaphor of a seed and a plant. A seed doesn’t grow unless it “dies,” that is unless it is buried, planted. And you can’t tell anything from the seed about what the plant will look like. So many similar seeds, and such an overwhelming variety of plants that grow from them. This is what it is like with us. We can’t be resurrected without death. And this body, this life – it’s perishable, mortal, weak. And finally, we get to the text from today, Paul’s conclusion in this long chapter. These words might sound familiar to you because they are often part of the graveside service at funerals. Paul says he’s going to tell us a mystery. We will be transformed – perishable to imperishable. Mortal bodies changed into eternal life in God. Then, Paul says, the saying that is written will be fulfilled: “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting … But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Trusting in this, Paul says, we should be steadfast, faithful, persevering, excelling in God’s work, because we know that our work is not in vain.

            There’s a phrase, “Don’t be so heavenly minded that you are of no earthly good.” There’s a lot of layers to what that could mean, but to me, I think of how we can get focused on doing good so that we get rewarded with eternal life. That makes for a pretty shallow relationship with God. It’s like being in a relationship with someone because they buy you nice presents. Not very deep. But for Paul and some other early Christians who faced considerable persecution, threats and actual harm in so many forms, being heavenly-minded meant being fixed on life’s ultimate goal – being completely united with God – instead of on the promises of earthly rewards that come and go.

What about us, though, twenty-first century Christians? How do we wrestle with these questions that Paul discusses? What do you think about when you think about life and death and life beyond death? There are so many questions that we understandably have about death and life after death, because of course, we only know this life, and it is hard to imagine something so outside of our daily experience. So we find these questions in the scriptures, like when the Sadducees are trying to trap Jesus with his answers, but still ask: To whom will we be married in heaven if we’ve had more than one spouse? Or like the Corinthians, who wanted to know what kind of bodies we get at the resurrection? Or the questions we might have: I asked my pastor when I was in junior high – won’t heaven be boring? He, a math major in college, drew his idea of eternity for me on an x-y graph. (I was not convinced I had been wrong in my original question!) We wonder. We yearn to know. Paul himself calls some of these things a mystery, the same word we use when we celebrate communion to acknowledge that we don’t know exactly how God does what God does to present with us in communion. Just so, how could we know the mysteries of life, death, and life beyond death?

When I was in 4^th grade or so, my older brother was teasing me in the way that older siblings do, but his teasing wound up with me being scared – I was thinking about death and trying to imagine would it would be like not to feel anything – as if even adults could get their minds around such a thing, much less 9 year olds. I talked to my Mom about it, and she realized that despite being a life-long Sunday School and church kid, it never occurred to me to be thinking about eternal life with God. She set me on a course of prayer and reading the Bible that shaped my faith in countless ways. I took so much comfort in the words of scripture. I didn’t understand everything I read, but I got the gist: when we follow God, our future is safe in God’s hands. For a long time after that, my image of eternity was shaped by C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia. In the last book in the series, The Last Battle, the world of Narnia ends and several of the characters find themselves in heaven. Aslan, the Christ-figure, the great lion, keeps calling to them to go “further up and further in,” and they find that heaven is like the worlds they know – Narnia, and earth, only they discover that the Narnia and earth they knew were but shadow copies, as different as a shadow is from the real thing, as different as seeing a reflection in a window is from looking at the thing itself directly. In eternity, they experience at last the real thing. Lewis narrates, “The difference between the old Narnia and the new Narnia was like that. The new one was a deeper country: every rock and flower and blade of grass looks as if it meant more. I can’t describe it any better than that: if you ever get there, you will know what I mean.”

            It was not until I got into seminary that I really struggled again with thinking about eternity. I’ve told some of you about part of this before – I confronted in seminary that gap between what I wanted to know about God and life with God and what I actually could know. I wanted to know all the answers, and was suddenly confronted with all that I didn’t and couldn’t know. I had more questions about eternity than could be satisfied by my images of heaven from The Chronicles of Narnia, and I was overwhelmed with anxiety about what would happen to me, to those I love, to the world. I scoured the scriptures for God’s promises about eternal life. There’s certainly a lot in the Bible to consider. The pictures of eternity are as varied as the genres of writing in the scriptures and the authors themselves. I didn’t find the defining answer: this is what happens in eternity. But what I did find was this: God loves us. God is good, all goodness. God’s purposes are good. God is ever faithful. God promises that we will be with God. Therefore what is in store for us is good, and we can depend on that. That might not sound like much. But for me, it was everything, a step in trusting in God and not my own answers that marked a sturdier faith, one that didn’t depend only on what was in my ability to comprehend!

I don’t mind confessing: I don’t know what happens after this life any more than I believe a caterpillar knows what it is like to be a butterfly, or what it will be like to turn into a chrysalis of mush in order to get to the butterfly part of life. I don’t know the details of what happens when we die, what heaven might be like, or if any of our visions or imaginings are even in the ballpark of the truth of what comes after we complete this life. But what I do know is that I’ve read these words from 1 Corinthians at countless funerals, read them to countless families who are grieving the loss of a loved one. And these words that once felt strange to my tongue, when I frankly hadn’t experienced much in the way of grief in my own young life, these words have become some of my favorite: “Then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through Jesus Christ.” I’m not sure I always understood those words, and I’m not certain that in the midst of grieving, people always catch the impact of them, the punch of them, the taunt of them. But Paul is laughing at death! Because he knows that death has no real enduring power over life. Death thinks it has buried us. Ended us. But death doesn’t realize that we are seeds, planted. Perishable, but made imperishable in Christ. I’ve learned this as I think about the loved ones I have lost to death, but who are still so alive to me, to my family. Death was not able to cancel out the power of their lives. Of their love, or ours, or God’s. Even death has no power to stop the work of God, the love of God, our life in and through and because of and with God. Where, O death, is your sting? It is nothing, and Christ and life are everything! Injustice, defeat, and death are not the final words, because life and love will find a path, a place, a way to grow. Instead we just leave buried our doubts and fears. We leave buried our prejudices and hostilities. We leave buried our insistence on our own way, our grudges, our anger. But what God draws forth from us is new life. Resurrected life. Real life, which we experience in part now, when we let God resurrect us, a foretaste of the full realization of God’s hopes and dreams that are promised for eternity. And nothing will stand in God’s way.

And so we hope, even as we wonder! We put our trust in God, who is good, who is love, who is grace, and who promises us life with God forever. And in the meantime, we do the work of God, knowing that our labor is not in vain. For death is swallowed up in victory. Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through Jesus Christ. Amen.

(1) Clemons, Sylvia M., https://originofsongs.blogspot.com/2013/08/victory-in-jesus.html

(2) Wilder, Thornton, Our Town, Act III. 

Sermon, "A New Name: Saul --> Paul," Acts 9:1-22

Sermon 2/1/15

Acts 9:1-22

A New Name: Saul --> Paul

Have you ever known someone who started going by a different name? They were always called one thing, but they started going by another name? Or maybe you have changed what you are called, over time. Sometimes this is something that just seems to happen, and other times it’s a deliberate choice. Some of you met one of my three brothers, Tim, on Christmas Eve. Tim is Timothy Jon, and so most of his childhood, we called him Tj. But at some point, he started going by Tim instead. It was a hard change to get used to, after referring to him as Tj for so long. Over the years, Tim has become comfortable switching back and forth – Tim or Tj – especially for family. But if he introduces himself, I’m betting he’ll tell you he’s “Tim.”

Or, there’s my older brother Jim. He’s married to Jennifer, and when they got married, Jim decided to take Jennifer’s last name. Jim is Jim Thompson, not Jim Quick. There were a few reasons for this choice. For one, Jennifer’s family is very small – she doesn’t have a lot of aunt and uncles and cousins and siblings. So continuing to be a Thompson meant something to Jennifer. On the other hand, it was important to Jim to shed a name that tied him to my father, with whom Jim was not close, and to embrace the chance to demonstrate that changing names should be a choice, not an expectation based on your gender. My brother Todd and I have our own name stories too. I went through a “Liz” phase, in fact. But you get the idea.

Today, in our series on New Names, we turn our focus to Saul. Our passage opens telling us that Saul has been “breathing threats and murder” against the followers of the way of Jesus. He seeks out more authority from the high priests, seeking the ability to have the followers of the way arrested and brought to trial for punishment, if he meets any on his journey to Damascus. Instead, his journey turns out very differently than planned. As he’s travelling, a light flashes around him, he falls to the ground, and he hears a voice: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” “Who are you?” Paul wonders. “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” the voice responds. Saul follows Jesus’ instructions to head to the city to wait for someone to tell him what to do. He’s been temporarily blinded by his encounter with Jesus.

Once in Damascus, Saul meets a man named Ananias. Jesus appeared to Ananias to send him to help Saul. But Ananias is skeptical. We read, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” But Jesus responds, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles.” And we read, “So Ananias went.” He trusted Jesus’ voice! Ananias lays hands on Saul, telling him that Jesus sent Ananias so that Saul could regain his sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit. Saul’s sight is immediately restored, and he gets up and is baptized. Over the next days, he spends time with the very disciples he was intent on persecuting, and begins preaching: “Jesus is the Son of God.”

There are a couple of unique things about our text this week. First, this is the only name change in our series that isn’t a change given by God. We don’t read about Paul’s change in name in our text today – the passage refers to him only as Saul. And we don’t read about God telling him to go by Paul because God never says that. And in fact, this name change is unique because there’s never a time where the scriptures tell us clearly when and why the name change happens. Some chapters after the text we read today, Saul’s conversion story, Luke, the author of Acts, is describing some of the works of the apostles, and he says, “Saul, also known as Paul,” and from then on, Paul is always called Paul. The only time we hear the name Saul again is when Paul is telling the story of his conversion to a follower of Jesus. Paul seems to be a name that Saul chooses to start using after his conversion. Why would he do this?

Well, Saul and Paul are really the same name, just in different languages. Saul is Hebrew, and Paul is Greek. Hebrew or Aramaic would have been the language spoken by Jesus and the twelve and those in Galilee and the surrounding areas. But Greek was the language of the Roman Empire and the larger community. Paul intentionally sheds his local Jewish name, and goes for the language of the non-Jewish community. Why would he do this? Well, Paul, once considered among the most righteous and correct and proper of the Pharisees, adherent to the law – Paul finds that the ministry God has called him to is ministry with Gentiles, those who were not Jewish. Paul's life work is travelling around to Gentile communities and sharing the gospel with them. And so he is known to them by a name that would have meaning to them. Paul, not Saul.

Paul, who was known to be one to uphold the law in every minute detail, has been bowled over by the freedom of the grace offered to him through his encounter with Jesus. And he wants everyone – everyone ­– to be able to experience what he’s experienced. And so he goes by the name that will put those he meets – the Gentiles he spends his life in ministry to – most at ease. See, most of Jesus’ disciples didn’t see, at first, that the mission and message of Jesus was meant for those who were not Jewish. Or at least, they believed that those who wanted to follow Jesus should become Jews, follow the commandments, become part of the covenant, Jews who happened to be disciples of Jesus. This isn’t surprising, really. Jesus talked about fulfilling, not abolishing the law that ordered Jewish life. But Paul just has a different vision for how that takes place. So when he goes out to preach and teach and form churches among Gentiles, he goes as Paul, the Greek, not Saul, the Hebrew. In fact, Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, says this: “I have become all things to all people, so that I might by any means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.” All things to all people. So if Saul needs to become Paul for the sake of the gospel, Saul becomes Paul.

As I read this story, I’m compelled by the journeys of both Paul and Ananias. Not many of us have conversion experiences that are like Paul’s. Some of us do, and that’s a wonderful blessing. But for many of us, if we’ve grown up in the church, the moment our faith became our own and we decide to be Christ-followers is really a series of events and smaller moments, experiences and learning taking place over time. But whether the changes in our relationship with God are more like going from a caterpillar to a butterfly, or more like growing from a seedling into a great pine tree, life with God surely changes us – if we let it, if we continually seek after following Jesus. Is your faith life the same as when you were 5? Or 13? Or 22?

Can we change? Today is February 1^st. Did you make any resolutions one month ago? Have you had resolutions you’ve kept? Sometimes, seeking change in our lives seems like a lost cause, as we get stuck in our same, destructive patterns. And so when we set out to change our lives or change the world it seems hopeless before we even begin. Can we change? The scriptures all full of this promise: God is making all things new. In Christ, we are new creations. But you’ll notice something: the change comes from God. After all, Saul didn’t exactly seek out change in his life. God just changed him. But rather than despairing that I haven’t experienced a conversion as dramatic as Paul’s, it gives me hope. Think of this: if Paul, who didn’t ask to be or desire to become a follower of Jesus, and did the opposite in fact, persecuting followers of the way – if this Paul, in fact, could be changed by God into one who would be thrown in jail and put to death for proclaiming the good news? How much simpler might it be for God to transform those of us who already say we desire to be transformed! Especially if we really mean it. Especially if we actively pray for God to transform our lives. Especially if we participate actively in handing over to God our lives in order to be changed!

Then, of course, there’s Ananias. I wonder: Can we let other people change? It isn’t as easy as it sounds. I’m bowled over by Ananias. Ananias, a Jesus-follower, know that Saul has been overseeing the brutal death sentences of Jesus-followers, and now suddenly he claims to be one himself? Not only that, he’s going to be a leader, spreading the message to Gentiles? And Ananias has to help him? Tend to him? It’s a miracle Ananias didn’t just laugh. But instead, he went and did exactly what was commanded. I can’t imagine that incredible forgiveness and reconciliation that must have had to take place in the heart of Ananias to let all of this happen. Only his trust in God’s plans and his deep understanding of the free gift of grace must have made him able to do that. Can we let people change? During the season of Lent, which is fast approaching, we’ll be talking in depth about forgiveness and reconciliation. But for now, I want us to consider how often people in our lives are trying to change, trying to go a new direction, God’s direction, but we are unable to offer forgiveness, to believe that God offers grace and new life, even to our enemies. I don’t mean that in blind forgiveness, we should put ourselves in harmful, abusive situations. But I wonder, can we let people change? Do we want them to? Is it ok if Tj grows up and becomes Tim? Is it ok if that one person we knew as a bossy know-it-all grew into a strong leader? Can we allow for the addict to become a counselor? The bully to become a teacher? The lost to become found? One of the reasons why I love and stick with something as time-consuming and ad-laden as facebook is because it has allowed me to see people change. I’m “facebook friends” with people I absolutely did not like in high school. And at first I resented a friend request, thinking, don’t they remember how awful they were to me in seventh grade? But then I realized that I got to experience the transformation of lives, in a small way, through the power of facebook!

This week I asked you all to research name or word meanings and to choose a name that captured where you hope to go in your relationship with God, where God is leading you. Did any of you do that? Saul became Paul because God changed him, and Paul wanted to celebrate! And he wanted to celebrate by drawing others into the story. He wanted to invite them to experience this God who makes us new creations. And he’d do anything, even be known by a different name, to help accomplish his mission. Maybe it isn’t as easy for all of us to see how God is changing us, growing us, shaping us. Sometimes we need help from others, or study, or reflection, or prayer, to see how God is at work in us. Sometimes it means we need to be more active in asking God to transform us, opening our spirits to God at work. But God does offer new life to you. And when you know that, claim that, trust that, stake your life on that: we celebrate and share the good news, like Saul, who was Paul, for the sake of the gospel.

Who will you be?

Amen.

My Unpreached Sermon(!) for 2nd Sunday after Pentecost, "Pentecost Aftermath: Paul," Acts 9:1-20

Sunday I was sick, sick, sick. Thankfully, my co-pastor was able to lead worship for me. But here's the sermon that was all ready to go...

Sermon 6/2/13

Acts 9:1-20

Pentecost Aftermath: Paul

            “I want to do it myself!” Any of you that have experience with young children probably know that small children reach a point in their development where they are experimenting with and pushing the boundaries of their independence. My nephew Sam just turned six – he’s a big boy now. But when he was about three or four, he went through this period when no matter what the task was, Sam would refuse help of any kind. If he was trying to get dressed, he didn’t want your help, even though it took him forever to get his clothing on the right direction the right side out. Particularly frustrating was his desire to get in and out of his car seat in the car on his own – it would take him several minutes, when you, the parent or aunt or grandma knew that you could just pick him up and put him in the seat in five seconds. Sam has grown past this particular stage now, but I can still perfectly hear his voice and tone and picture his expression, “I just want to do it myself!”

            Of course, adults aren’t much better, are they? Many of you know that my mom, who is slowly becoming a bionic woman, has been through many surgeries – rotator-cuff, knee replacement, two ankle fusions. The ankle fusion, a surgery that failed the first time and had to be repeated, was particularly hard, as my mom was in a non-weight bearing cast for months, and with her previous shoulder injury, she also couldn’t use crutches. That meant she worked with a walker and a wheelchair. My mom, a nurse for 30 years, is a horrible patient, as folks who work in the medical field generally are in my experience! She wouldn’t let anyone help her up the stairs when she got home from the hospital, resulting in several of us hovering around her uselessly while she scooted up the stairs, sweating profusely with the effort. She fell in the bathroom the first morning after being home, because she was trying to do a little rearranging in one of the bathroom cupboards while balancing on one foot. And when I took her out to a craft show, and tried to push her through the crowd in a wheelchair, I realized it wasn’t working because she couldn’t stop trying to steer. Two people trying to steer one object works just about as well as it sounds. It doesn’t work. Mom, not unlike Sam, just wanted to do it herself.           

Last week we heard a small mention in the scripture of our main focus for today; as we read about the stoning of Stephen, we heard that those who were putting him to death threw their cloaks at the feet of a man named Saul. Today, we turn our focus to Saul, and our passage opens telling us that Saul has been “breathing threats and murder” against the followers of the way of Jesus. Saul is not content to just strongly disagree with the disciples he encounters. No, he is specifically seeking more authority and ability to have the followers of the way arrested and brought to trial for punishment, like Stephen was. He’s on a journey to Damascus, and he wants to be able to look for Jesus-followers on his journey. Instead, his journey turns out very differently than planned. As he’s travelling, a light flashes around him, he falls to the ground, and he hears a voice: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” “Who are you?” Paul wonders. “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” the voice responds. Saul follows Jesus’ instructions to head to the city to wait for someone to tell him what to do. He’s been temporarily blinded by his encounter with Jesus.

Once in Damascus, he meets a man named Ananias, who was sent by Jesus to help Saul. I’m always amazed by Ananias. Jesus appeared to Ananias to send him to help Saul. But Ananias is skeptical. We read, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” But Jesus responds, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” And the next sentence we read starts, “So Ananias went.” He trusted that Jesus knew better than he did! So Ananias lays hands on Saul and says, Jesus, who appeared to you, has sent me “so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Saul’s sight is immediately restored, and he gets up and is baptized, and over the next several days, he spends time with the very disciples he was intent on persecuting, and begins preaching: “Jesus is the Son of God.” Eventually, this Saul is known to us as Paul. He’s the only person to whom Jesus speaks in this way in the scriptures, in this ‘appearance’ of sorts after the resurrection. Paul’s conversion from a persecutor of the Way to a follower of the Way is certainly one of the most dramatic stories of conversion in the Bible.

I worry, though, that the dramatic nature of Paul’s conversion keeps us from finding ourselves in his story. Some of us may have stories of God at work in us in this way, but many of us may not see the beginnings of our relationship with God in such a crystalizing moment. For me, though, the key in the story is how our lives bloom when God is in control. And whether we realize that God is in control in a moment or over time, that’s a core part of our journey with Christ either way! I’m always amazed that we seem to love the image of God as potter so much – you are the Potter, God, I am the clay. Mold me and make me. And so on. But have you ever seen what a potter does with a lump of clay? Have you watched how a potter starts and restarts and works and reworks a lump of clay? The end result is so beautiful – but the process – well, to transform a lump of clay into a beautiful vessel means that clay has to go through a lot! But that biblical image of the God as the potter, us as they clay is just right. That’s exactly it. We have to be molded by God. As Pastor Aaron would say, we have to remember that God is God and we are not.

Several folks from our congregation spent the last three days at Annual Conference, the regional decision-making body for our denomination. Liverpool First was well represented – besides Aaron and myself we had lay delegates Kay Phillips and Pat Cupernall, youth delegate Elliott Lawrence, and two more of our own on conference staff – Martha Miller and Pat Toukatly. During one worship service, our Bishop, Mark Webb, shared this powerful video, set to the music that was our theme song for the event. [VIDEO] All around/ Hope is springing up from this old ground/ Out of chaos life is being found in You/ You make beautiful things/ You make beautiful things out of the dust/ You make beautiful things/ You make beautiful things out of us.

            We try to change our messed up lives over and over. Try to change and fail. Try to change and fail. We forget that it is God who transforms us, God who meets us on the road, God who redeems us. We try so hard to save ourselves. We’re like Sam, petulant children. We want to do it ourselves! But although by God we are nurtured and strengthened and can grow more deeply in discipleship, it is always God who redeems us, God who saves us, God who makes us new. Saul – Paul – he learned that in a dramatic way. Ananias, a disciple already, was continuing to learn that as he had to trust that Jesus knew what he was doing in calling Paul. Sometimes it takes us time to hand over control to God. Sometimes God helps us do it all at once. Sometimes we take baby-steps. But friends, with us, sometimes in spite of us, God is making beautiful things out of us, out of the dust of our lives. As it turns out, we can’t do it by ourselves. And so God gives us fellow journeyers on the way. God gives us supporters and mentors to walk beside us. God gives us people like Ananias, who trust God that we can change. And God gives us Jesus, God-in-the-flesh, to find us when we are on the wrong road, to make things right, and make something beautiful out of dusty paths. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

My first DMin Project: Looking for your insights!

The first class session for my Doctor of Ministry is over, but my first project is still underway! My project is focusing on the practice of the Eucharistic meal in Paul's churches, and our celebration of the meal, particularly as a symbol of unity of the body of Christ. My hope is, with a group from my church, to plan a meal with celebration of Holy Communion for World Communion Sunday this October. We'll need to write a liturgy and order of worship. I'm particularly drawn to this excerpt from one of our textbooks. 

"The unity symbolized by the Lord's Supper, I have suggested, can be seen as a reminder or re-presentation of the liminal transcendence of societal oppositions that was declared in baptism. Now it is commonly asserted that this baptismal unity and egalitarianism is 'merely sacramental,' that is, as a purely symbolic leveling it signifies an ideal state, perhaps a future eschatological state, but has no effect upon actual social roles . . . For Paul, it was a matter of intense concern that at least one of the typical instances of reunification declared in the 'baptismal reunification formula' should have concrete social consequences. That there was now no distinction between Jew and gentile was for him . . . the most dramatic expression of the justification enacted by God through Christ Jesus . . . it was not merely a purely spiritual unity in the ritual meal that was at stake, but also the social unity of the church." (pg., 161, emphasis added.) - The First Urban Christians, Wayne A. Meeks

My questions for you all: 
Do you see Holy Communion as having concrete social consequences for us today? For Paul the elimination of distinction between Jew and gentile was ultimate. What social consequences would be ultimate for us today in the celebration of communion? Within our homogeneous-in-so-many-ways congregations, is it possible for Holy Communion to have concrete social consequences, or would this only be possible if we totally changed the way we celebrate the sacramental meal? 


I'd love your thoughts, comments, and questions. 

Modules 11 & 12: Class Notes

Here's my last set of notes from my first DMin class - I really loved it! Now I just have to complete my project! I'm working on a project on Unity/Body of Christ and the Sacrament of Holy Communion. I'll keep you posted ;) 

***

Question from student –

1 Cor. 6: Malakoi – the weak ones – sexually, the penetrated one. One who submits his (usually male) body to penetration by a stronger partner for money, advancement, etc.

Arsenokoitai – male/those who sleep – those who sleep with men

Romans 1: Worshipping humans, birds, animals, reptiles. God hands them over to their desires.

Worshipped creature rather than creator.

References to Leviticus 18 holiness code.

Krister Stendahl “Good exegesis begins with the distinction between what the text meant and what the text still might mean.” If you skip over first, you can’t determine second.

What did this mean to Paul’s first readers?

Homoeroticism in the Biblical World – Martti Nissinen (best book on topic)

Same sex relationships that Paul knew were consistently between a more powerful, wealthier, older male and a younger, weak, attractive, slave boy. Petronius’s Satiricon, Suetonius, Life of Nero: pederasty. Paul never experienced, no evidence he knew of adult, consensual, same-sex, committed, long-term relationships.

Not just homosexual relationships were different – heterosexual were too. Changes, over time, culturally.

Paul’s condemnation today would apply to pederasty, not adult, mature, same-sex relationships. Mistake to apply them to same-sex relationships today. Anachronistic.

Welborn’s own “Sin in First Century Rome” article. Read this passage in context of Nero’s Rome, Nero’s practices of pederasty.

Dale B. Martin, Sex and the Single Savior  

***

Module 11: Life: Partnership/Hospitality

Partnership

Believe this is three letters, redacted, but all written by Paul.

Note of thanks for a gift Philippians sent to Paul.

J. Paul Sampley, Pauline Partnership in Christ: Paul has a relationship with this church that he doesn’t have with any other churches.

Koinonia – not fellowship/community, but a legal term that would be better translated as partnership – Latin – societas

Philippians 4:10 – revived is literally anethalete – “bloomed up again out of the darkness” – implies when there was a time when their concern was dormant, not evident. ἠκαιρεῖσθε – from Kairos – “right season”

4:11 Autarkes – self-sufficiency – top of list of virtues – totally confidence in self/gait

(Vincent Harding)

:14 Ple^n – cancel that – “you did well becoming partners with me in affliction.” (Paul’s in prison.)

Food not provided for you in prison. Hygiene is nil. Need someone on the outside.

Craig Wansink, Chained in Christ

Although Acts says Paul is a Roman citizen, but Paul himself never mentions this, beaten with rods, not something to do with a citizen.

:15 No church partnered with me

:18 apecho^ - “paid in full”

Taubenschlag, Law in the Greco-Roman Papyri  

Paul is acknowledging gift delivered by Epaphroditus, and also his services (his person on the outside) – this is sort of a receipt

Chapter 2 (last letter) :25 Epaphroditus

Mutual obligation, mutual benefits, consensual partnership

Paul’s partnership model has possibilities for today – this is the third way between patronage and tent-making, neither of which have worked for Paul.

Paul also has this relationship, partnership, with Stephanos, Phoebe, Philemon

4:15 Eis logon – not translated! – Paul preaching? Economic mutualism practiced.

Justin Meggitt, Paul, Poverty, and the Bible

Hospitality

Romans 12:13 Is Paul just talking about the “welcome wagon?” We equate hospitality with courtesy, friendliness.

We’re missing something.

Abraham Malherbe, Social Aspects, “The Inhospitality of Diotrephes” 3 John v. 10

John Koenig

12:13 – Economic radicalism, “chase after with hospitality”

Xenos – Stranger, alien, but also guest – the process by which an ‘other’ is transformed into a guest, brother/sister ultimately. Chase after person to do this.

13:8 Unplug from the patronage system. The one who loves “ton heteron” – the other person (Leviticus 19:18)

Jacob Taubes, The Political Theology of Paul

Whole law can be fulfilled by loving the neighbor

Claudius expels Jews from Rome because of “tumult” they caused because of Christ. Most Jews just move out of city limits. (49 AD) Most just move back in after Claudius dies. Living in docks.

Paul is writing to a divided church in city of Rome. On West, slaves, poor, Jews, in tenements. On other side of river, 2 house churches, wealthy, villas, Gentiles.

This is context where Paul lays down rules for hospitality.

1) Welcome without conditions (Romans 14:1 – Welcome weak in faith/convictions, but not to dispute over opinions with them.)

2) No despising, no judging! (Romans 14:3-4, 13)

3) No basis for judging in culture/law (14:14)

4) So, criterion is welfare of brother or sister – don’t grieve them! “The criterion is not your damn Book of Order . . . or your church’s statement on this or that. The only criterion is the welfare of your brother or sister.” (14:15, 14:23)

5) Strong must bear the weak. (15:1 – “bear up”)

6) Let each please the neighbor for up-building/edification (15:2)

7) Christ bore the insults. (15:3)

Conclusion: Welcome one another as Christ welcomed you. (Receive one another.) (15:7)

***

Module 12: Ritual

How did Paul use ritual (certain patterns of liturgical behavior) to create the one body?

Ritual as a form of communication. Ritual as kind of language. Interpreting ritual is like discovering grammar/syntax of community. Ritual communicates fundamental values. But doesn’t just express, it also shapes and creates in communities.

Mary Douglas. Ritual forms not only as transmitters of culture but as creators of social reality. (Like when we know something, but can’t articulate it at first, and have ‘a-ha!’ moment through ritual.)

Baptism, Eucharist are major. But others.

Exhortation as ritual. (Parakaleo^) 1 Thess. 5:27 Read letter to all community. Col. 4:16-17, similar.

Singing. Order of Worship – 1 Cor. 14:26: A hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Colossians 3:16

Hodayot – Mary Douglas

Philippians 2:6-11 – “The Christ Hymn”

Colossians 1:15-20, 1 Timothy 3:16, Ephesians 1:3-14 (Student of Paul)

Ephesians 5:19 Singing to the Lord and each other – community oriented function

Preference for worship things that are “for building up” – hymns over tongues.

Preaching

Nils Dahl, “Preaching Patterns in Paul”

* Revelation Pattern – “You know now something that has been hidden”

* Soteriological Contrast Pattern – “You once were, but now you are something different/no longer are”

* Conformity Pattern – “Just as Jesus _________, so should you _________”

* Teleological Pattern – “So that . . . 2 Cor. 8:9”

* Simple Appeal – “I appeal to you by the name of Jesus: ________”

Prayer

1 Cor. 14:13-15 Combination of planned/spontaneous

Doxologies, acclamations, etc.

Baptism

Nowhere in letters do we get a straightforward description of baptism. Used it as a metaphor. When Paul construes baptism as a symbolic burial to be raised to new life in Christ – def. immersion.

Hippolytus (2^nd century) gives account of baptism. He says three-fold immersion. Naked. Artistic representations though show pouring, with people standing.

Didache, 1^st century Syria, water scarce, speaks of pouring water three times.

Intensely local, depended on where you were.

“no longer Jew/Greek” as baptism liturgy.

Baptism as cleansing/washing.

Difference between Jewish baptism (mikvah) and Christian baptism – Jewish baptism, you were unclean again. Christian baptism is a permanent transition. Marked a permanent threshold between the messianic community and the rest of the world.

Baptism creates a new community: dying and rising (Romans 6) The new person who lives in no longer ego^, but Christ who lives in me.

Eucharist

We’ve already discussed.