Knox Church

A worshipping and reconciling community centred on Jesus Christ, where ALL are welcome.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

A sermon for 27 January 2013 - Epiphany 3


Readings: 1 Corinthians 12; Luke 4:14-21

 
I’ve not been to Nazareth[1] – and that leaves me at a definite disadvantage.  When I try to imagine myself into the Bible, it’s difficult to get past the pictures that used to hang on the Sunday School wall or were found interleaved between the pages of my Bible – pictures of a peaceful, gentle community, where Jesus was welcomed and loved.  The Nazareth of today is a long way from that perspective.  Since the 1947 UN partition plan, Nazareth has become what is known as the Arab capital of Israel – where the population is made up, predominantly, of Arabian citizens, 70% of whom are Muslim and 30% Christian.[2]   You don’t need to have visited Nazareth to imagine the tensions that are part of the context of this city today. 

A few years ago I spoke about how recent archeological diggings near Nazareth suggest present day tensions might be closer to the reality of Jesus’ day than what was depicted in those well-intentioned Bible pictures of 1950s. 

Just 6-7km northwest of Nazareth is Sepphoris, which has been the capital city of Galilee throughout many periods. Archaeologists[3]  have laid bare its 4000 seat amphitheatre, its elegant mansions, markets, banks, armoury and basilica – all set out on a hill giving panoramic views of Lower Galilee – including Nazareth. 

When Herod the Great died in 4 B.C., his son Herod Antipas made Sephhoris his capital, rebuilding and fortifying it and creating an administrative centre worthy of his pretensions.  First century historian Josephus described this cosmopolitan city as “the ornament of all Galilee”.  If Jesus grew up in Nazareth, then the Roman-style re-construction of Sepphoris was happening at the same time – and within an hour’s walk of his home village.  The demand for labourers would have been great.  It’s possible that Joseph and Jesus, living so close and being builders by trade, were part of the construction crew.

Even if they hadn’t worked there, those living in Nazareth would have been fully aware of all that wealth and fortification that was being poured into the rebuilding process.  The peasants had good reason to hate the city – where absentee landlords, owners of estates, and chief tax collectors enjoyed friendly relationships with the Romans and lives of wealth and ease - at the cost of those who worked the land[4]. 

About the time that Jesus was born, there had been a riot in Sepphoris - part of the city was destroyed – and then not that long after Jesus’ death, the Roman defenders were forced out of Sepphoris – the city was burned and looted by peasants from the surrounding countryside.   The Sunday School picture of Jesus quietly at work in his father’s carpenters shop in peaceful Nazareth is being blown away!

In the generation between all that rioting, looting and burning, Luke tells us that Jesus – filled with the power of the Spirit – returns to Galilee, where he gets rave reviews for his preaching and teaching.  When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom.  In the shadow of Sepphoris, controlled by the Romans, whom the people fear and despise, his congregation knew all about oppression and slavery to an administration and economy where the rich get richer and the poor, poorer – one that doesn’t take much imagination from our context today.  And in that place, Luke tells us, Jesus stood up to do a reading, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. So he unrolled the scroll and found Isaiah 61, the place where it says

        The spirit of the Lord is upon me,
        because the LORD has anointed me;
        he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
        to bind up the broken hearted,
        to proclaim liberty to the captives,
        and release to the prisoners;
        to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor,
        - and the day of vengeance of our God.
...But no, I’ve got that wrong – I’ve read further than Luke said Jesus did. Did he censor the reading?  For those listening in the Nazareth synagogue – they knew what was coming and what Jesus had left out.  They also knew about “the year of the Lord’s favour” – the law proclaimed a “jubilee” every fifty years – a time when prisoners were freed and the land would revert to its original owners.  Great idea – and desperately needed – but so far, it hadn’t happened.

Into this context Jesus preaches his sermon.   “Today – right now – this scripture is being fulfilled”.  Ah – you can hear the collective sigh that went through the congregation - at long last, the tables will be turned – and – wow!  One of our own – has come home to lead the revolution – good old Joseph’s son.   We’re going to get our land back!   This time, we’ll be successful – we’ll kick those Romans out.   Can you hear their minds racing – planning to go home to gather their grenades and Molotov cocktails – or, at least their ancient equivalents?  Sepphoris is doomed!

But then it hits them - Jesus left out that line about God’s vengeance – he left out the ‘good’ part about revenge and punishment and enemies getting their just desserts.
 Instead, in what he says and doesn’t say – what he does and doesn’t do – Jesus preaches about God who brings not revenge, but love and healing – even to foreigners! – love even for the Romans in Sepphoris; even the Romans who murder him. 

And, that’s not what his congregation wants to hear – they are so angry, they drive him out of town and want to throw him over the cliff!  And then comes the saddest line in the story; from the part we didn’t hear this morning.  "He passed through the midst of them and went on his way."   Were they so angry they couldn’t see the possibilities for the whole community – including their enemies.  Did their rage and desperate need for revenge blind them from the offer of God’s favour – of full and abundant life?  ….. Jesus passed through the midst of them and went on his way. The greatest opportunity possible had just come to them, and they got so angry they lost sight of it.  How very sad…..
And just a generation later Sepphoris, Jerusalem, the great Temple, the whole countryside, all that was left of this great nation dissolved in flame and fury and blood.  And it didn’t stop in that generation – for even today Nazareth, and all the land around it, is dying in a spasm of hatred, fear and war.  But this hate and fear is not only confined to Israel.  All over the world, the rage grows.   When the life-style of the greedy minority prevents the needy majority from access to basic essentials, the powerless turn to terrorism and revolution – and the level of violence escalates.    We know the rage of those who are poor and have nothing to lose.  We’ve seen the anger in our own streets – anger that vandalises buildings, destroys relationships and makes our streets unsafe – anger that attacks people with beliefs different from our own – anger that stabs young people and murders elderly widows.

It’s very easy to be sucked into this fear and anger - so easy to lose sight of Jesus, the teacher, living and travelling in a violent land – Jesus, who said, “turn the other cheek, carry the other person's coat, love your enemies.”  Jesus, who points out that God loves the stranger, the weak and the poor.  It's too easy, when we're following our own agendas of revenge and punishment, too easy to ignore his message, too easy to leave him on Sunday School posters and between the leaves of an ancient book.  While our focus is on punishing our enemies, Jesus and his message don't seem that relevant.

And since we also live in a country growing in fear and  anger, filled with people--even Christians, especially Christians-- who have their own agendas and have rejected Christ's message of love  for everyone, we have reason to be scared that  Jesus will also pass through our midst and go on his own way.  Is that what we want?


A poem by contemporary writer, Tom Shuman

what to do, what to do?

we don’t know
what to do with you,
Jesus!

home from [university]
on [mid-term] break,
you stand up in church
and read the scriptures
with such wonder and awe,
all we can do is nudge one another:
“I had him in kindergarten,
he was always ahead of everyone else!”
“he was always helping the younger kids
when he was in youth group.”

We can hardly wait to hear
your sermon . . . until
you start talking about
how we are
    to welcome the immigrants,
    to open the jail doors,
    to give more to those
       who will only squander it.
Then we whisper (in a stage voice):
“whose bright idea was it
to ask him to preach?”
And so,
we close our hearts to you,
and let you slip through
our souls,
as you go to fulfill
God’s hopes for us,
wishing we would follow you
on that winding road
of grace.[5]

E te whanau, it doesn’t have to be that way ...  it’s not too late for the scripture to be fulfilled. Today the jubilee can still be proclaimed. This can be the year of God’s favour.   Imagine what it might be like if we did follow him on that winding road of grace.


 



[1] I am indebted to Don Hoffman (who has been to Nazareth!) and whose sermon is quoted from extensively and has formed the basis for mine.  Don Hoffman, Creston Christian Church crestnch@televar.com Creston, Washington, USA - sermon posted on Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Thursday, 25 January 2007 5:11 a.m.
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazareth
[3] www.centuryone.org/sepphoris.html
[4] According to Josephus, the peasants hated the city – and the city people were fearful of the villagers.
[5] © 2007  Thom M. Shuman

Saturday, January 19, 2013

A Sermon for 20 January 2013: Epiphany 2


Readings: Psalm 36; John 2:1-11; 1 Corinthians 12

 It would have made a good episode for “Border Control.”  A traveller crossing the border from Mexico to the United States was having his bag searched.  The US customs official drew out of his bag a one-litre bottle of liquid.  The official asked the man what it contained and the traveller replied, “It’s just holy water.  I took it from a shrine I was visiting.  They say it causes miracles.”  The customs inspector was suspicious.  He opened the bottle and took a sniff.  “Ah-ha,” he declared, “this is not water – it’s wine!”  And the traveller lifted his eyes to the sky and cried out, “Good heavens!  Another miracle!”

 According to the Gospel writer we call John, the miracle Jesus performed at the wedding of Cana was a sign – the first of Jesus’ signs – the first act, according to John, that Jesus performed in his ministry.  And yet, even though “stories about the miraculous production of wine by gods or religious figures were known in the ancient Mediterranean world”[1], none of the other gospel writers describe anything like this particular one.  I hope that for some, this might intrigue you and draw you into a careful reading and reflection on the theological structure and meaning of this particular Gospel – so different from Matthew, Mark and Luke.   

 Using the language of ‘sign’ rather than miracle, John reminds us that his accounts of Jesus’ miracles are not to describe some form of magic, but rather (as all signs do) to point beyond themselves to a truth which goes way past any discussion about the historical accuracy of a particular narrative.  A sign – we might even call it a sacrament[2] – pointing us to a reality beyond our limited vision.

 Last Sunday we celebrated water – that amazing gift of God which makes up 80% of our bodies and which covers 70% of this Earth’s surface – water that we use in the sacrament of baptism as a sign of God’s overflowing and overwhelming love for us.  Water – which John tells us is life-giving and which can be transformed for love and celebration. 

 In terms of literal accuracy, this miracle of the wedding at Cana is nothing short of spectacular!   For, if the numbers are correct, then this report of Jesus’ action describes how more than 300 litres of water are turned into wine – not just any wine, but the very best, top quality, Villa Maria Chardonnay,  Bannockburn Pinot Gris or Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc.  So, if there were a hundred guests, that’s more than 3 litres for each person,....even if 300 guests, a litre each ... and, remember, this was after people had been drinking for some time ... all the wine provided by the wedding host had already gone.   Jesus doesn’t seem to be taking seriously the importance of responsible service of alcohol here.... or do we miss the point, if we go down that path, and is John pointing us to something more – something much more?   It’s almost as though John is playing with us – telling us a good joke – surprising us with an extravagant outcome we would never have thought of ourselves ... Good heavens!  Another miracle!

The Gospels are full of stories of God’s extravagant, generous, overflowing gifts, love and mercy: the open-armed welcome for the prodigal child, a catch of fish so great that it overwhelms the boats, the feeding of a multitude of people, with so much leftover; signs of abundance and celebration.   Good heavens! More miracles!  We can almost hear Jesus saying “what part of abundant life don’t you understand?”

And in our heart of hearts, we might reply – “get real Jesus – there’s not much to sing about in this world of shortages.  Don’t you realise we have to live with limits, that we have to protect our patch?  There’s only so much food, so much water and so much oil – and it’s being used up at a great rate.   There’s only so much rain forest, and we’re cutting it down. There are only so many fish in the sea, and we are fighting over quotas. There are only so many jobs, and we’re struggling to keep them in our own country. There’s only so much to go around, and if others get more, it means I get less.  Signs of overflowing generosity just aren’t the way of the world.” 

That’s right; the way of the gospel is not the way of the world.  The signs to which John calls our attention point to the way of the Gospel, which is about over-the-top, extravagant love. In God, there are always surpluses.  It may be worth asking ourselves: are we thinking too small?  Are we doling out the wine by the teaspoon, while Jesus is pouring it out by the 50 litre flagon?

We catch a glimpse of how God’s surpluses emerge, in today’s reading from the letter of Paul to the Church in Corinth.  Here Paul reminds the people of the various spiritual gifts they have been given – gifts perhaps unrecognised, but gifts, which shared together amongst a community, bring about abundance.   Paul writes: “there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.  To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”

Some of you will have noticed that, for some weeks now, I have included in each order of service, a spiritual practice for the week.  The reason for doing this is to help each of us to identify and develop this variety of gifts which we all have, and which, in God’s abundance, can be activated for the common good – for the common good of you and your friendship/family circle, for the common good of this faith community and the Dunedin community, and for the common good of the cosmos.

The practice for this week is ‘Hope”.   To live within a context of hope is to live within a mind-set of abundance.  Hope is a positive and potent spiritual practice with the power to pull us through difficult times. It is usually described with light metaphors — a ray, a beam, a glimmer of hope; the break in the clouds; the light at the end of the dark tunnel. It is often discovered in unexpected places.”  One way of developing this practice is to close your eyes, let one breath out, and then see yourself in a long tunnel with nothing but darkness behind and ahead of you. Moving forward, see a dot of light in the distance, which is getting larger and larger the closer you move toward it. Walk out of the tunnel into the light. [3] Then open your eyes to the miracles you will see – for living in hope opens us to God’s surprise of abundance and enables us to offer that abundance to others.

Many of you will know the story of CS Lewis; as told in the movie Shadowlands.   For a very long time Lewis’s life had followed the same comfortable patterns as a teacher and writer, a pipe-smoking bachelor, living in his book-lined Oxford home with his brother.  Shadowlands tells about the wonderfully surprising, late blooming romance involving this lay theologian, writer of children’s books, an older settled man, and American poet, Joy Gresham, a young divorced mother. Turning water into wine might seem simple in comparison to the ways of this developing relationship. They meet after Joy wrote Lewis an admiring letter; their correspondence led to her visiting England with her son Douglas. Lewis received Joy with courtesy, but was so totally settled in his lifelong professional routine, he hardly knew what to do with her – especially as it became clear, even to himself, that he was falling in love.

Their courtship was an odd one. He issued invitations lamely, as if sure she would not accept. Then Joy had difficulties with immigration – and it was likely she would have to return to America. And so Lewis offers marriage to cover the technicalities of immigration – a secret arrangement which allows Joy to remain living in London, while Lewis continues his life style in Oxford. But then, when expectations are at their lowest, when life appears predictable, when the wine is running out – a surprise transforms their lives.   Joy becomes terminally ill with cancer and in his hospital visiting of Joy, Lewis suddenly awakens to the reality of the abundant love they have for each other. The best is surely kept until last.   There in the hospital, another wedding ceremony is performed – a religious and public occasion; a celebration of deep and abundant love.   On being discharged from the hospital, Joy and her son Douglas are welcomed into Lewis’s home in Oxford where they live as a married couple and a family.  It is there that Lewis learns how to nurse his wife and to become a father to Douglas. 

In Joy’s dying days, the water is indeed turned into abundantly flowing and gold medal winning wine.  While their time as a married couple was short, this newly formed family found in those brief days an intense and extremely happy time together. CS Lewis was later to write a book entitled “Surprised by Joy”.

Good heavens!  Another miracle!  Will they ever end?  I hope not....

 

 



[1] Gail R. O’Day “The Gospel according to John” The New Interpreter’s Study Bible 2003 p.1910.
[2] Rubem Alves suggests “When things awaken longing remembrance and cause the memory of love and the desire for return to grow in the heart, we say that they are sacraments.  This is a sacrament: visible signs of an absence, symbols which make us think about return.”[2]
[3] http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Sermon for Baptism of Jesus Sunday


Readings: Acts 8:14-17 Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

 Every year, at this time, the universal church remembers the baptism of Jesus – and, when we bring that pivotal memory into our consciousness, we also become aware of our own baptism and what that means for us today.

What strikes me about our readings this morning is that in both cases there is a – perhaps very surprising, but clearly articulated – need for ‘something more’.  It seems, in both cases, the act of baptism alone is not enough.  Such an idea flies in the face of those who use baptism as a ‘test’ of whether or not you are a true Christian.  There’s more to it than that.  These unsettling readings challenge any sense of complacency we might hold about our own baptism; they remind us our life is not static, but rather a journey – one for which we have only the sketchiest of maps – but along the way, there are sign-posts which provide amazing hope for that journey.

In the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear the response of the Jerusalem Church to new Christians in Samaria.  The more established church takes responsibility to assist the newer community – baptism in the name of the Lord Jesus, was insufficient – more was needed... and so Peter and John, senior leaders of the Jerusalem Church are sent to Samaria to provide for the lack – to touch, inspire and enthuse the new Christians into a dynamic and active faith – ensuring that these newly baptised Christians are not alone and will participate in the vibrant Spirit known through being part of the universal Body of Christ.  I wonder what that might mean for us as a Christian community.

In the Gospel reading, John the baptiser senses this need for more, when he announces “I baptise you with water; but [that won’t be enough, you will need more, for] the one who is coming ... will baptise you with the Spirit and fire.”   I wonder what that means for this community who profess to follow Jesus?  In what ways have we received this baptism of Spirit and Fire?

I don’t think it is just an accident that this need for something more, leaps from the lines of our readings today.  For, doesn’t this sense of lack and need sum up, in so many ways, the experience of the human condition?  Isn’t this our personal and communal experience?  Isn’t this why humans engage in actions as diverse as global warfare, consumerism, loving relationships and religion?  We seem to be hard-wired with needs – to want things to be different – to want something more than we have.  We yearn, we long for and we hope for something more.  Sometimes that longing takes us in directions of destruction and despair – other times, our yearning is the impetus for a transformative, hope-filled journey.  As I reflected on our readings for this morning, what surprised me was to find this clear evidence of lack and need at the heart of what the church has turned into one of its central acts – the sacrament of baptism.  Surely, I reflected, baptism is almost set in stone – is it not a useful and valuable marker, a once and for all monument to commemorate a commitment made by an individual (or their parents on their behalf) – a one-off historic ritual to which we might look back – sometimes with inappropriate pride, sometimes with deep gratitude and sometimes with the sure knowledge that this was a turning point in our lives – but that was all, wasn’t it?   The more I thought, the more I realised what a limited view this was of baptism.  The more I continued to ponder, the less surprised I became that this morning’s readings summon us into a consideration of baptism as an ongoing opportunity to participate in something much more.

As a reformed church, we have only two sacraments – that of baptism and of communion.  The latter we celebrate regularly; but baptism is less commonly celebrated in these more secular times and perhaps less understood.  In writing about sacrament, Brazilian theologian Rubem Alves suggests “When things awaken longing remembrance and cause the memory of love and the desire for return to grow in the heart, we say that they are sacraments.  This is a sacrament: visible signs of an absence, symbols which make us think about return.”[1]

Sacraments are not perfunctorily performed rituals set in stone but actively engaged yearning in which our heart and emotions propel us into transformative action. 

I think all of us who were present when we recently celebrated the baptisms of L and J, M, D and T, were deeply moved as two adults and three young children heard those words of God’s unconditional grace and love as they were welcomed into and embraced by the universal church.  It may have been difficult for us to put into words, the feelings we experienced but somehow that moment - that sacrament – encapsulated something of our longing and need: in that moment, the sun burst through the grey clouds of our everyday lives as we caught a glimpse of something more – more than we had even expected.  Here, in our very midst was a visible sign of an absence – a symbol which made us think about returning to Love itself.  When the gospel writers wrote about Jesus’ baptism they described it as the heavens opening, the Holy Spirit coming down like a dove and a voice being heard declaring Jesus to be God’s beloved child.  One might say I T was the gospel writer at last month’s baptism – with his artistic eye and sensitive camera-work, I captured the moment when D was being baptised.  Her older brother M had just received the waters of baptism – and her twin sister T was waiting her turn. Standing on each side of D, M and T reached out to each other, linking hands around their sister’s back, holding D within the warm embrace of Love.   “This is God’s beloved child in whom God is well pleased.”

It is no mistake that in our baptism service we wait until after the actual baptism, for the vows to be put.   It is after we have experienced God’s grace and loving kindness, that the baptised face ‘the more’ and are asked to respond to God’s love.   Let me remind  you of what is asked – and as you hear these words, I invite you to consider your own response, should you be asked these questions right now.

Those who have been baptised share a responsibility for living out their commitment to Christ through ministry in the world. I therefore ask you to commit yourself to Christian ministry.    Do you promise to live your daily lives as people who follow Jesus?

Do you promise to be faithful members of the Christian community: sharing in worship and supporting the work of the church with your time, talents and money; helping to care for God’s creation, loving and forgiving others, working for peace, justice and reconciliation, developing your gifts and sharing your faith? 

This morning, after the Affirmation of Faith, there is an opportunity for you to re-commit yourself to your baptism... or if you haven’t been baptised, to commit yourself to following the way of Jesus.  When you do that, you will be reminding yourself of these baptismal promises and committing yourself to the more – to participating in the vibrant Spirit of Fire and Love.  You will be saying ‘yes’ to doing your part to provide a nurturing, welcoming place for all people in this community – or your home church;   When you recommit to your baptism, you are remembering the call to part of a loving community -  nurturing one another in faith, upholding one another in prayer and encouraging one another in service.

It’s quite a lot more than a one-off ritual; but it provides a horizon of hope where nurture, compassion and creativity thrive.  May it be so.

 

 



[1] Rubem Alves I Believe in the Resurrection of the Body (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), p.14.