Sermon for Trinity Sunday, Year A, "God in Community, Holy in One," 2 Corinthians 13:1-13, Matthew 28:16-20

 Sermon 6/4/23

2 Corinthians 13:1-3, Matthew 28:16-20

God in Community, Holy in One

I was torn between directions for my sermon when I picked our hymns for today. They mostly focus on our text from Matthew and the Great Commission and what it means, but I’ll have to save those thoughts for another sermon, because I just couldn’t stop thinking about the Trinity on this Trinity Sunday, and what I might say about this most unique aspect of Christianity. Our scripture texts are chosen in the lectionary because they both use a Trinitarian formula - “Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” naming the three persons of the Trinity. Last week, as we celebrated Pentecost Sunday, I mentioned that I find the Holy Spirit to be a little weird. Well: the Trinity? Definitely also weird. And it’s not just me who thinks so. Our conception of God as a Trinity - Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Creator, Sustainer, Redeemer, Parent/Child/Spirit, however we phrase it, our Christian understanding of God as Three Persons/One God: Well, of all of the many things that set religious traditions apart from each other, we can find common ground in so many ways. But the Trinity? It’s rather unique. Most Christians understand ourselves to be monotheistic - in other words, believing in one and only one God. But from the outside, people from other religious traditions hear this idea of the Trinity - that Jesus is also Divine, God in the flesh, that the Holy Spirit is also God - and declare that you can’t be Trinitarian - believing in a three-in-one kind of God, and still be monotheists, believing in one God without quite so many layers, or personalities, or complications. 

And indeed - there are lots of reasons for those who are not Christian to be confused by the Trinity, because, honestly, we Christians are confused by the Trinity, sometimes without even realizing it. First: The word Trinity? It never appears anywhere in the Bible. The Bible says a lot of things about the nature of God, about who God is and gives us ideas about how to describe God from titles to descriptions of God’s character. And we learn a lot from the scriptures about Jesus and his relationship to God, and as we discussed last week, we get a lot of descriptions of the Spirit and what the Spirit does, and the sense that the Spirit is of God, is in Christ, is sent by God, by Jesus, to be with us. And yet, despite all this, nowhere does the Bible say: Hey, God is a Trinity, a Three-in-One deal.   

So where do we get the notion of Trinity from? It’s an extrapolation. In other words, it’s a conclusion we reach by taking all the witness of the scriptures and trying to figure out what they’re telling us about God. Even though the word “Trinity” isn’t there, the early church leaders came to understand “Trinity” as the best way to describe God and the relationship between God who creates, who is the divine parent of Jesus and humanity, and Jesus who is the Christ, God-with-us, God in the flesh, and God’s Holy Spirit, sent through the ages to fill the hearts of God’s servants. It wasn’t exactly a simple and smooth process, though, coming to understand God as Trinity through the witness of the scriptures …

I remember that during my church history class in seminary we spent a lot of time talking about what can loosely be called the Trinitarian controversies - a variety of arguments about exactly what the Trinity is. Church leaders debated these fiercely contested questions at church councils, and there were strong “parties” that supported certain views. One party, for example, thought that any concept of Trinity would need to show that Jesus, the Son, was not comparable to God the father. But another group wanted to insist, with a very specific Greek word configuration, that God the father and God the son were “like according to substance,” even though this is never clearly stated in the scriptures anywhere. Even still, this same group who wanted to emphasize the divinity of Jesus also wanted to make it clear that only the Christ person of the Trinity was incarnate, enfleshed. God the Father does not suffer death on the cross, only Jesus the Christ, even though the Christ is one person of the Trinity. Another debate was over whether Christ was “begotten” or “made” – created by God, or existing with God in the beginning in a way different from the creation of human beings. Another debate questioned whether or not the fully human person of Jesus Christ was part of the Trinity, or just the divine Son. And they questioned what to do with that strange Holy Spirit thing, perhaps like we do today. They wanted to know if the Holy Spirit came from God the Father directly, or from the Father and the Son together. 

All these details they eventually hammered out, though not always - not usually actually - in a friendly way, not always without labeling each other as heretics and running anyone who disagreed out of the church. Today, though, most of us, if trying to describe the Trinity? We’re (unintentionally) heretics too. All of the metaphors we have for describing the Trinity? For example, any Children’s Sermons you might have seen trying to teach kids about the Trinity that talk about the petals of a clover, or about how steam and water and ice are all forms of the same thing, or about how a person can be a parent and child and an aunt and a sister all at the same time while still being the same person - basically every one of those explanations is a form of modalism - our one God shows up in three different modes - a heresy rejected by the early church. I think fondly of one woman from my last appointment in Gouverneur - I shared with a Bible study group our tendency towards being heretics about the Trinity - and she was always trying to come up with an example that would be theologically correct according to our ancient predecessors. And every time, I’d have to tell her: Nope, that’s still modalism!  We worship one God, three person. God is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. But the Father is not the Son or the Spirit. The Son is not the Spirit. But The Father is God. The Son is God, the Spirit is God. And they are three-in-one, One God. Simple? Not exactly. So, most of us are unintentional heretics. The Trinity is a central doctrine of Christianity, but most of us can only explain what it means in ways that have been, technically, deemed theologically incorrect. And if, then, most of us can’t even rightly say what the Trinity is, does the Trinity matter? 

Of course, I think it does. Here’s why. I think the Trinity - and the history of debates, sometimes painful debates about the Trinity - help us wrestle with whether our notion of God is limited or expansive. We may not be participants in the church councils of the early church.  But I think we do often engage in the same behavior as those folks did – we’d really like to get a fix on God if we can. We’re always trying to define God, define our faith, define a set of rules for our life with God. It’s a reasonable urge – we want to know our Creator better, we want to know who this Being is who gives us life and who we gather to worship. We want to know who this God is that makes us and shapes us and calls us to do all of these things that are so difficult and challenging and frustrating. We want to know better who it is who gives us love and grace and calls us children, as we call this Being a divine parent. It’s good and natural to want to know this God with whom we’re in relationship. But sometimes we cross a line, where we go from wanting to know God better out of a desire for relationship, to wanting to know God so that we can contain and control God. After all, if we can control God, perhaps we can limit God’s control on us, and not feel so obligated to follow all of those pesky commands about loving our neighbors and enemies, about giving away all of our stuff, about following wherever we’re led.

But instead of seeing the Trinity as a way to contain God, I think the Trinity is meant to help us understand how expansive our God is, how beyond the scope of our human limitations. I remember when I was a young child, my dearest friend, Krissy, who of course also went to church with me, was working on a project. She was searching through the Bible, looking for all of the different names of God, making a list. Of course, these days, we could quickly grab that information online. But she was doing it by hand, marveling at so many different ways God is named, described, so many ways God is revealed to us. The Trinity helps us understand a God who is expansive and dynamic, who contains relationship right within God’s own self, even as God calls us towards deeper relationships with God and with one another and with all of creation. God models in God’s very own being how God wants us to live with one another. I especially love the description used by Rev. Thom Shuman, whose liturgies I have often used. He calls the Trinity “God in Community, Holy in One.” I really love that. 

Our God is not only our Creator, but also one who is willing to come and be with us in human form, to take on all that it means to be a human on earth. And God is not only one who does those things, but also one who is willing to dwell within us, to live in our hearts, and so guide our lives right from within the very core of our beings. This is a God who will seek us out for relationships in any way possible, so desirous is God of being a part of who we are, and having us be part of who God is. Our God is persistent, asking again and again, to be let into our lives. Our God is creative, meeting us where we’re least expecting to find God. And our God is pervasive, permeating every part of our existence. That’s the Trinity, even if it’s not a very defined definition. Indeed, it seems some of the very best things in the world are the ones we are least able to put into clear words, concise definitions. For all of the writings we have, movies and poems and books and classes that talk about love, for example, it’s very hard to “define” love. But that doesn’t reduce love’s power or potency, or our desire to give and receive love in our lives. Love seems to be something you have to simply experience to know. Perhaps it is the same with this God who is God in Community and Holy in One. Hard to define, but worth all the conversation. Easier to experience God – the best way we can go about knowing God. 

I’ll probably never be able to describe the Trinity perfectly without being a little bit of a heretic modalist. But what’s better is that I can be in relationship with the Trinity, and learn to be in relationship with others because of this expansive God who knows me and seeks relationship with me and with you. God who creates us and parents us so well. God who lives among us and walks beside us. God who dwells within us, as close as our breath. God in Community, and Holy in One. Let’s give thanks for this mysterious God who defies our definitions, who exceeds our expectations, and who loves us without limits. Amen. 

Sermon, "Don't Boast!," Romans 5:1-5 (Trinity Sunday, Year C)

 Sermon 6/12/22

Romans 5:1-5

Don’t Boast!

What kind of pet peeves do you have? When you think about the little mannerisms and characteristics that really irk you, what comes to mind? For me: it’s boasting. When people want to tell me how awesome they are at something, when they just can’t help but toot their own horn, it really irritates me. I’m not quite sure why it bothers me so much. I guess if I traced it back it was probably something my mom instilled in me when I was little - teaching me good manners, and teaching me to be kind and thoughtful and to not boast about anything that I thought I was good at, not boast about any advantage I thought I had over others. And apparently it stuck. Boasting - I really dislike it. 

In these internet days, there is even a special category of boasting - which, to be clear, I also dislike - called the “humble brag.” The humble brag” is when you “try to get away with bragging about yourself by couching it in a [false] show of humility.” (1) So you might say something like, “Your [canoe] is way cooler than my 80-foot yacht. You get to be so much closer to the water and to nature. I envy you, I really do.” (1) And I’d know you just wanted me to know that you had an 80-foot yacht. Still boasting. Still my pet peeve. 

Why does boasting irritate me so much? I guess I believe that if you have a quality worth boasting about, you don’t need to tell me about it - I’ll see it. And if I want to compliment you for it, praise you for it, I will. But boasting is like asking for compliments. And how sincere are compliments that you’ve had to ask for? Not very. Boasting, to me, seems disingenuous on the part of the boaster, and it kind of pulls the respondent into a disingenuous interaction too, making them feel pressured to praise you - as you basically asked them to - in response to your boasting. No thanks. 

Still, I try to also think about what motivates someone to boast (besides being full of themselves!) I think when we’re tempted to boast, it comes from a place of insecurity. We might be proud of something we did - and that’s ok - but we’re afraid we won’t be recognized for our hard work, or afraid that we won’t be noticed. Maybe we’re always overlooked, and we feel that if we don’t ask for compliments by boasting, we’ll never get any. And compliments feel good - we all need them - we need to check in with each other to feel secure. I try to remember, when someone is boasting - that they probably need something they don’t feel they’re getting elsewhere. I try to remember that so I can be more patient with boasting. 

Believe it or not, all this is on my mind because of our scripture lesson for today from Paul’s letter to the Romans. Over the years of my discipleship, from as long as I can remember being a Bible-reader on my own, for my own faith-development, I’ve struggled with the apostle Paul. There are a few things that challenge me about Paul’s teachings, but the thing I struggle with most? Paul boasts constantly! He has the spirit of the humble-brag down to a T, saying things like, “If anyone was going to boast on their own merits, I’d be the best one to do it, because I am soooo qualified as a perfecter follower of God’s law - but, all those ways I excel are not important now that I’m a follower of Jesus.” Sure, he tells us his awesome qualities don’t matter anymore - but he makes sure we know them all the same. Boasting - ugh!  

What then, are we to make of a text like today’s reading from Romans that actually invites us all to join in boasting? Listen again: “Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” Ok - so here Paul is telling us to boast in our hope in sharing the glory of God, and to boast in our suffering - because the way Paul calculates - our suffering is eventually a path to hope, and we can trust in our hope in God. But do we really need to boast to get to hope? Is that necessary? 

We have to remember, though, that the early followers of Jesus faced incredible obstacles in their path of discipleship. Following Jesus meant being an outsider, on the fringes of community, facing derision and persecution. When Paul speaks in this passage of suffering, he isn’t just talking about having a bad day - he’s talking about the years of rejection, persecution, imprisonment, accusations, beatings and more that he and other disciples have experienced because of their commitment to discipleship, finding themselves both outside the Roman culture and practices and outside of the Jewish faith community too. To remain a follower of Jesus in the face of such challenges took daily dedication, and a deep trust in the path they were following. And so, in the face of that … Paul calls for a bit of boasting. Paul uses this technique of boasting to take what might seem like nothing, or at least nothing good, and turn it into something worth having - worth seeking after. Paul takes the suffering the church experiences, and transforms it into hope. He gives people something to boast about when they’ve been crushed, and in doing so, urges them to remain faithful. He says that their nobody-status as outsiders is actually leading them to have God’s love poured right into their hearts, into being filled with the Holy Spirit. Paul is giving a pep talk, and using whatever he can to persuade his audience: even boasting, a quality that we otherwise might dismiss as simply bad behavior. (2) 

Ok - so, I might understand Paul’s motives a bit better, and give him a little leeway on his boasting when I better understand his purpose. But what does this mean for us? Because as mostly white, mostly middle-class Christians in a nation of predominantly Christian adherents - probably few of us can claim to have experienced the kind of persecutions and sufferings Paul and the early followers of Jesus did. Mostly we’re not in the vulnerable place of feeling like we have nothing and we are nothing in the face of being pushed out of the community because of following Jesus. And so, too, we can’t quite give ourselves permission to boast, as Paul does, even if we’re only boasting about our hope of sharing in God’s glory. I don’t think we’ll be well-received in our boasting! 

I do think, though, that Paul’s words can help embolden us toward more risk-taking discipleship. Sometimes, when we’re thinking about stepping out on faith, we can only imagine what losses we might experience if we fail, the standing we might lose, the security and sense of place we might lose. Paul’s words remind us that when our aim and purpose is following Jesus, our loss is gain, a fulfillment of hope whose value is immeasurable. Paul reminds us that God transforms what seems like nothing into sustaining abundance. So: what risks is God calling you to take? Is God calling you to be an ally and advocate for the marginalized and oppressed and excluded? Is God calling you to speak out against violence and injustice that brings terror to our communities? Is God challenging you to let go of some of your comforts in order to be more free to serve others? Is God asking you to minister, to heal? The scriptures are full of stories of God asking people to take life-changing risks. And then God is right there with them, turning their worlds upside-down, yes, but also meeting every hopeful expectation with promises fulfilled. I think God has a story to tell with us, too, if we’ll take the risk. 

And once we’ve taken those risks with God? Well, we might even be entitled to a little boasting - boasting in God’s faithfulness to us. Amen. 

1. https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Humble%20Brag

2. Themes drawn from Crystal Hall, “Commentary on Romans 5:1-5,” The Working Preacher,  https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/the-holy-trinity-3/commentary-on-romans-51-5-5

Sermon for Trinity Sunday, "The Next Step: Commissioned," Matthew 28:16-20

Sermon 6/15/14

Matthew 28:16-20

The Next Step: Commissioned

            Today is a Sunday in the liturgical calendar we don’t often give much attention to: Trinity Sunday. It is the day when we celebrate one of the most unique and most misunderstood doctrines of the church: the doctrine of the Trinity, that we worship at God who is “one God, three persons,” Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The word “trinity” to describe God never appears in the Bible. It is a word we have used to describe what we see in the scriptures. Today’s gospel lesson from Matthew is often a text used on Trinity Sunday because it is one of few places where this Trinitarian formula, “of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” is used in the Bible. You might recognize this phrase as one we still use today – they are the words that we use at baptism. We baptize with recognition of our Triune God – one God, three persons. The doctrine of the Trinity is pretty complex, because our God is pretty dynamic, and not easily boxed in. If any of you are ever interested, I could share with you a lot of interesting, quirky facts about how our doctrine of Trinity got worked out in church history. I had a hard time not putting all of that in this sermon today! But even though this is Trinity Sunday, I really want to focus on what’s happening in our gospel text today, aside from the appearance of some Trinitarian language about God.

            This passage from Matthew is often described as “the Great Commission.” We have “the Great Commandments” – love God, love one another, which tell us how to live and relate to one another. But at the end of Matthew, we find “the Great Commission,” which tells us more about our purpose, what God means us to be doing. The passage is the very end of Matthew. Jesus has been resurrected. And Matthew has little else to say, once that happens, unlike Luke and John who tell us lots about what Jesus does between the resurrection and Jesus’ return to God. Matthew jumps almost immediately to Jesus returning to God, leaving the disciples with these final words: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." And that’s how the gospel of Matthew ends.

            You have come to know over the last couple of years that I’m fascinated by words and their meanings, especially word-origins, and what the origins of words can help us understand. I looked up the etymology – the origin – of the word Commission – since that’s our focus today. In a moment, we’ll talk about what I found out about it, but first I’ll tell you what I wish it meant, and what I think it can mean to us, one part of commissioning that I want us to remember. What I immediately think of when I hear the word commission is co-mission, as in, a mission shared by two or more parties, a purpose shared by two or more groups. And so when I read this text, I think about how we’re co-missioned by God. God sends us out not alone, but together, with each other, with other disciples, with Jesus – he even emphasizes that here – Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age – in case we doubted – with the Holy Spirit that we talked about last week. With God. Co-mission. This isn’t something we do alone – we can’t and we shouldn’t. Serving God is something we do together.

            The actual definition of commission means “authority entrusted to someone” or “delegation of business to someone.” This is just right for our passage too. The first thing Jesus says in this passage is “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” So, the authority belongs to Jesus, but he entrusts his authority to us. The task that Jesus sends us to do we do only as delegates, with Jesus’ authority, not our own. That’s another important key of the Great Commission. It is easy to think the mission of the church is our own, and that we’re in control, in charge, of what we do. But we’re delegates, representatives, of Jesus, acting under his authority. That means that our message better be the message of Jesus, rather than our own preferences, our own ideas, our own plans. If we’re commissioned, we’re acting with authority that has been entrusted to us, but really belongs to the one who commissions us.

            So we’re commissioned – on a co-mission with God and one another, entrusted with the authority Jesus gives to us to carry out his work. We know what a commission is – but what is the commission? What is it that Jesus is giving us authority to do? He says, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” Go, make disciples, baptize, and teach them to obey Jesus’ commands.

            The main verb in the sentence is, of course, go! In order to do the work of Jesus in the world, we actually have to go and be in the world to do that work. This seems simple and obvious, but our behavior would suggest otherwise. This weekend, I spent some time babysitting my nephew Sam, including getting him ready and sent to bed. Sam is really good and quite adept at all the parts of getting ready to go to bed. He’s equally talented at not going to bed. He can prepare, and prepare: pajamas on by himself, teeth brushed and bathroom routine on his own. I no longer have to read him bedtime stories – he reads his chapter books all in his own. Music on, lights dimmed, stuffed animal nearby, blankets arranged – so many preparations, and Sam can take care of all of it. And then, it’s about an hour of reasons why he can’t really fall asleep yet. “I haven’t even yawned once!” he pleaded with me, wanting to stay awake just a little bit longer. Lots of preparation for sleeping, and very little actual sleeping. Think of all of the things we prepare for, and how senseless it would be if we prepared without actually doing what we’d prepared to do: Planned for months for our Red Bird Mission trip to Kentucky, but then just sat on the bus in the parking lot instead of going on the trip. Setting everything up for the Annual BBQ, and then sat around on the day of the event wondering why there was no food. Confirmands completing all of their homework assignments and requirements to be confirmed – and then not becoming members of the congregation. All of that seems so clearly silly to us. But I wonder, sometimes, in our life with Christ, if we don’t do exactly this all the time. Prepare and prepare and prepare to be followers of Jesus – study the Bible, worship together, spend time planning how to reach out and connect with the community and world, talk a lot about what to do and what’s right and wrong when it comes to our relationships with God – and then, forgetting to actually follow Jesus. Jesus sending us out, us nodding our heads, “Yes, we’ll go, we’ll be disciples, and help others be disciples, yes!” And then expectantly waiting for more information when we already have everything we need to know. Jesus says, “Go!” He doesn’t even ask – the verb is imperative, it is a command, a directive, and we’re commissioned, given authority for the task. Go! And it’s like we say to God, “Yeah, but I haven’t even yawned once yet!”  

            Maybe we need to review the commissioned, what we’re to do when we go. We’re to make disciples. “Disciple” is fancy church language for students. We’re to help people be students of Jesus, like we’re students of Jesus. People who are learning about how to follow Jesus. We’re to baptize – that’s what we do as a way of celebrating someone’s place in the family of God. It’s an act of initiation, a welcome. We say in our baptismal liturgy that baptism makes us part of the church, that through baptism we’re made part of God’s “mighty acts of salvation,” that we celebrate being made new, and that it is a gift from God offered without price. So we’re sent to offer a pretty awesome thing – a free gift, salvation, new life, without price. And we’re to teach others to follow the commandments of Jesus, which he told us were summed up in loving God with all we had, and loving one another. That’s what we’re to go and do, with authority that Jesus gives us, and with the promise that Jesus will be always with us.  

            Friends, in order for the commission that Jesus gives us to mean something, we have to actually carry it out. Jesus entrusts us with something very precious. It’s a great honor that God believes that as faulty as we are, we can carry out, in Jesus’ name, the work that he began. Maybe that’s what keeps us in our seats – we’re overwhelmed, humbled, feeling inadequate. But it is also surely a co-mission. We’re not on our own, but with God, with one another, with Jesus promising to be with us always. And our commission is about news that is good, life-giving, invitational, drawing people into God’s family. We go to share a gift of joy! But in order to be sent out, we actually have to follow through with what we’ve been preparing and planning for all along.

            On your mark. Get set…and there’s only one thing left! Go!

            Amen.

Sermon for Trinity Sunday, Year C, "Pentecost Aftermath - Stephen," Acts 6:8-15, 7:1-2a, 51-60

Sermon 5/26/13

Acts 6:8-15, 7:1-2a, 51-60

Pentecost Aftermath: Stephen

            Some of you know that I have a real interest in psychological personality types, specifically a model of understanding called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicators. You might have taken this test yourself at some point, or at least be familiar with part of the system. You receive a four letter type – either an E or I – for extrovert/introvert – this is the part many of you many know about yourself already – then either N or S – are you intuiting or sensing? – T or F – thinking or feeling – and J or P – judging or perceiving. If you want to know more about my psyche, I can tell you that I am an INFJ. I usually have couples who are doing premarital counseling go through this personality typing process, because it helps me get to know them, and helps us have conversations about how they relate to each other, particularly in situations that are less than perfect. Sometimes workplaces have employees and bosses take these tests, so that all can work together to create a better workplace environment. I’ve read a resource that particularly talks about personality types among clergy, and what the strengths and struggles are for pastors of different types.

For all of the types, for example, the Myers-Briggs test will reveal something about how you handle conflict. You might already know this about yourself too. Are you a person who is confrontational? Do you love a good fight or debate? Do you keep quiet in an argument? Do you make sure you are not even around in a conflict? You all might have been amused to see, once upon a time, Pastor Aaron and I on a long road trip with your former associate, Pastor Heather. Aaron loves a good debate, and Heather can’t stay out of a debate if her buttons have been pushed, and I sat quietly in the back seat, occasionally offering up placating words to diffuse conflict! I could have told you before I ever took my own test that I tend to be a conflict-avoider. My official results say this: “INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger.” Of course, avoiding conflict isn’t really something that is possible if you want to interact with people, is it?! And in particular, avoiding conflict isn’t always helpful in the midst of a congregation of diverse people and opinions, particularly when you are a leader of those people! Over my years of ministry, handling conflict has been something I’ve had to work hard it, and sometimes I have more success than others!

Today we step into a major conflict in the book of Acts, one that ends in death, as we read the story of Stephen. Unlike the disciples like Peter and company, Stephen’s task in the community of Jesus-followers was not primarily as a preacher of the gospel at all – he wasn’t one of the apostles. Stephen was part of a group of servants who had a special task in the early church. People outside of the faith criticized that the fervor of the disciples for preaching the gospel had caused them to neglect other duties like feeding the widowed and the needy. Their criticism was a reason for them to reject the teachings of Jesus – the disciples didn’t really take care of those in need! Why believe their message of good news? But the twelve responded, “‘It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.’” So seven were chosen, one of whom was this man we read about today, Stephen. These seven looked on the needs of the least in their community, making sure that those who were without could receive food and be taken care of. In other words, Stephen wasn’t a preacher or a pastor, or an apostle – that wasn’t his vocation. He was a servant, a helper, a supporter in ministry. If Stephen were a 21st century believer, he might be any one of you – someone who stepped up to help meet the needs of the community.

It turns out though that Stephen, even though he wasn’t one of the apostles, was still a rowdy synagogue member. He wasn’t content to just go with the flow or keep quiet in his own community of faith. So Stephen and some of his fellow synagogue members were constantly debating and arguing about his involvement in this new faith. Eventually, his peers had enough, and began to plot against him. We read of their scheming in Acts: “But they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which [Stephen] spoke. Then they secretly instigated some men to say, ‘We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.’ They stirred up the people as well as the elders and the scribes; then they suddenly confronted him, seized him, and brought him before the council. They set up false witnesses who said, ‘This man never stops saying things against this holy place and the law; for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses handed on to us.’ And all who sat in the council looked intently at [Stephen], and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”

The authorities ask Stephen to respond to these accusations. And he does, in a big way. Stephen says that through the ages people have rejected the prophets that God sent to reach them, and just so they rejected Jesus, God-come-to-earth to reach them. He doesn’t try to soften his words, and he doesn’t try to make friends. He doesn’t temper what he says, or recant any of his beliefs, even though he is clearly in trouble. Stephen just says what is on his heart. The synagogue leaders respond to Stephen’s testimony: “When they heard these things,” we read, “they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen.” Instead of being scared by the group, Stephen is fortified by the vision of Jesus he has. He tries to share his vision, but his words fall on unhearing ears. The men drag Stephen into the street, they throw their coats at the feet of a man named Saul, and they stone Stephen to death, literally pelting rocks at him until he dies. Stephen’s last words echo Jesus’ on the cross, as he pleads for forgiveness for those who are putting him to death. Stephen, not one of the twelve, not known for his preaching or leadership, was just someone who was trying to serve others, and he was unwilling to say or do otherwise, even with the cost being his own life.

            Yet, Stephen is known as the first Christian, the first Jesus-follower, who sacrifices his life for the movement. He’s the first martyr of this newly-birthed church. That word, martyr, comes from the Greek word marturia, and in Greek, that word means witness. Someone who is willing to martyr themselves is a witness for an issue or topic or person about whom they are passionate. Stephen was a witness for Jesus. But witness is one of those funny words that has a lot of baggage in the Christian church today, baggage that distracts us from understanding what the word means. We sometimes think of a witness as when someone goes door to door, like a Jehovah’s Witness adherent, witnessing, or proclaiming their faith, in an evangelistic sort of way. But I think we better understand witness if we think about a trial, and people who are called as witnesses in a trial. Witnesses in trials are called on to tell the truth about what they have seen and experienced related to a particular event. That’s actually just what Stephen does, isn’t it? He tells the truth about what he knows about Jesus Christ, what he’s experienced. What moves Stephen from being more than a witness, in today’s language, to being a martyr, is that he witnesses to the truth despite his circumstances, which were clearly dangerous to his life. When would you be willing to tell the truth about something, to witness, no matter what the costs were to yourself?

            What strikes me as so powerful about Stephen’s witness to us is that he didn’t have to do it. He could have, at some point, stopped debating with synagogue leaders, joined a different community, run away. He could have gone into hiding, left town. He didn’t have to have this fight. He chose to, because he was so committed to speaking the truth he believed about the life he was called to in Christ. What would you give your life for? When would you speak up, and when would you stay silent?

            We are the story-tellers, the ones, now, in whose hands and hearts the good news of the gospel resides. At what cost will we stay silent? Stephen wasn’t even silent with threat of death. But I worry that we sometimes can be silent even over our mild discomfort! You have probably heard this famous poem by Pastor Martin Niemoller, written in the wake of Nazism and the Holocaust. First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me. We say actions speak louder than words, and if that is true, then inaction is a deafening silence. 

            Today is a day when we have honored and remembered loved ones we have lost, and particularly, for many, loved ones who felt so committed to their country and the values of their nation, that they were willing to put themselves in harm’s way in order to uphold these values for the good of the whole. What do you value so much that you will not fail to speak the truth about it, no matter what situation you encounter? I’ve told you how much I dislike conflict, but in my own life, I find I rarely have trouble speaking up if you are harming in word or deed a member of my family, a dear friend, a loved one. Then it is easy to speak. Or if I witness an act of injustice in progress, I find it much easier to speak. I’m guessing many of you feel the same way. But what about when the situation doesn’t involve someone you are close to. Would you still feel compelled to speak the truth? What about when you hear people speaking of others who are not present? Would you still speak up? What about when there would be immediate negative consequences in your life for witnessing to truth? I’ll be honest – I hope I’m never put in a situation where I have to choose whether or not to lay down my life – I’m pretty fond of it! But I don’t think we can read about Stephen without asking ourselves some hard questions. How much is telling the truth worth to us? How much do we value it? Our lives are witness – what we do, how we behave, how we act, when we speak, when we stay silent – they’re always testifying in some way. What is your life saying? Amen. 

Sermon for Trinity Sunday, Year A

Sermon 6/19/11, Matthew 28:16-20 

How many of you have read Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code? The book is now 8 years old, which is hard to believe. You probably remember all the controversy around the book when it was published – it suggested a lot of religious conspiracies – like thate Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married and had children. The book certainly wasn’t the first to propose such ideas, but it seemed to catch global attention, and after its publication, many similar books    followed from other authors. I certainly enjoyed the book – a page turner – but the book was fiction, not fact, and some scenes were just blatantly rewrites of history. I was thinking about it again though because today is Trinity Sunday, another one of those usually skimmed over special Sundays. It is the day when we celebrate our unique Christian belief in this three-in-one God – Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Creator, Sustain, Redeemer. You see, one of the characters in The DaVinci Code claims that Jesus was “voted” to be divine at a council meeting of the early church, where previously everyone just regarded him as a human. My recollection of my church history courses in seminary, though not what it once was, is strong enough to know that things didn’t unfold in quite that way! But, The DaVinci Code was right about something. The early church did sometimes discuss weighty matters in great council gatherings. And one of these discussions, the First Council of Nicea, was centered not on Jesus’ divinity, but on the nature of the Trinity. Our gospel lesson from Matthew appears in the lectionary on this day in particular because it highlights this Trinitarian language. But we will come back to that in a bit.

In actuality, the Trinity is something that only occasionally makes clear and explicit appearances in our scriptures, like in our text from Matthew. The scriptures certainly never describe the Trinity, or even use the label “trinity”, or define what it means in any way. So the early church councils tried to hammer out what this Trinity thing was. They debated many questions about the Trinity, and there were strong “parties” that supported certain views. One party, for example, thought that any concept of Trinity would need to show that Jesus, the Son, was not comparable to God the father. But the eventually “winning” party wanted to insist, with a very specific Greek word configuration, that God the father and God the son were “like according to substance,” even though this is never clearly stated in the scriptures anywhere. Another debate was over whether Christ was “begotten” or “made” – created by God the Father, or existing with God the Father in the beginning in a way different from the creation of human beings. Another debate questioned whether or not the fully human person of Jesus Christ was part of the Trinity, or just the divine Son. And they questioned what to do with that strange Holy Spirit thing, perhaps like we do today. They wanted to know if the Holy Spirit came from God the Father directly, or from the Father and the Son together. All these details they eventually hammered out, though not always in a friendly way, not always without labeling each other as heretics, kicking the losing party out of the Church. And the result of the Council, in part, is the Nicene Creed that we find still in our hymnals, which we’ll look at later. It is that mess, the Trinity, which we celebrate today!

Maybe we think that trying to define the nature of God, the nature of something as strange as the Trinity in a council meeting is crazy. It’s true, we don’t usually discuss such details at Parish Council meetings! But I think we do often engage in the same behavior – we’d really like to get a fix on God if we can. We’re always trying to define God, define our faith, define a set of rules for our life with God. It’s a natural urge – we want to know our Creator better, we want to know who this Being is who gives us life and who we gather to worship. We want to know who this God is that makes us and shapes us and calls us to do all of these things that are so difficult and challenging and frustrating. We want to know better who it is who gives us love and grace and calls us children as we call this Being a parent. It’s good and natural to want to know this God.

But sometimes we cross a line, where we go from wanting to know God better out of a desire for a relationship with God, to wanting to know God so that we can contain and control God, even if we wouldn’t admit it quite that way. After all, if we can control God, perhaps we can limit God’s control on us, and not feel so obligated to follow all of those pesky commands about loving our neighbors and enemies, about giving away all of our stuff, about following wherever we’re led, about being last and servant of all. We try to paint God into corner and put God into boxes. When we do that, we make God pretty small, and then we’re upset when our God is too small to handle our crises, to handle our pains and hurts and sufferings.  

On Trinity Sunday, we’re called to embrace all that God is and wants to be for us. Instead of trying to pin God down, we need to reorient our focus. The Trinity, in all its mystery, is clear in this: Our God is a God who is all about relationships. Our God is not satisfied to be just one thing, one essence, one expression. Our God is not only our Creator, but also one who is willing to come and be with us in human form, to take on all that it means to be a human on earth. And God is not only one who does those things, but also one who is willing to dwell within us, to live in our hearts, and so guide our lives right from within the very core of our beings. This is a God who will seek us out for relationships in any way possible, so desirous is God of being a part of who we are, and having us be part of who God is. Our God is persistent, asking again and again, in different expressions, to be let in to our lives. Our God is creative, meeting us where we’re least expecting to find God, and perhaps most likely to listen. And our God is pervasive, permeating every part of our existence. That’s the Trinity, even if it’s not a very defined definition.

Indeed, it seems some of the very best things in the world are the ones we are least able to put into clear words, concise definitions. Just think of that most basic thing – love. For all of the writings we have, movies and poems and books and classes that talk about love, it’s very hard to truly define what love is. But that doesn’t reduce love’s power or potency, or our desire to give and receive love in our lives. Love seems to be something you have to simply experience to know. It’s the same with this God who is Three in One and One in Three. Hard to define, but worth all the conversation. Easier to experience God – the best way we can go about knowing God.

So, instead of worrying so much about what we don’t know, what we can’t figure out, what we can’t categorize and label, we’d be better off if we worried about what is clear to us. In Matthew's gospel, these words that we hear this morning are the end of the book, the last things Matthew chooses to include in his account of Jesus' ministry. This is it. The last words, according to Matthew, that are important enough for him to record. It is here we find what we call the Great Commission. Jesus is with the eleven – the disciples have not yet replaced Judas Iscariot – and Jesus tells them he has all authority on earth and in heaven. And then he gives commands: Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And finally, a comforting promise: And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Jesus gives us a task: Go and make disciples and make them part of the faith community in the name of this dynamic God who is too big, too great, too much to be pinned down or boxed in. From this passage, we find the source of our denominational mission statements – go and make disciples! Jesus doesn’t tell us to go and make scholars, or make theologians, or make teachers or leaders, though all of these roles are valuable. Jesus calls us to make disciples, and ‘disciples’ literally means ‘students’. That means that we’re meant to be learners, students, pupils of Jesus. And to be a student means that we don’t know everything. We’re students of God, ever learning. So our aim isn’t to go and tell everyone we have all the answers – indeed, nothing could make people more suspicious, could it, than someone insisting they had all the answers! We are sent out to make more students! Invite people to come and learn with us, come and learn at the feet of Jesus, come and learn about this three-in-one God, come and learn how beyond our imagining is God and God's love for us. That’s a mission we can all take part in carrying out.  Amen.

Sermon for Trinity Sunday/First Sunday after Pentecost

Sermon 6/7/09
John 3:1-17

Prayers, Presence, Gifts, Service, Witness


Today, shortly, we’ll receive four new members into our congregation – Amanda, Sami, Lexi, and Steven. They will join a long list of those who have been members here at Franklin Lakes. They, like hundreds before them, through the years, have stood before you and said that they want to be part of this community of faith. These four young people took part in a confirmation program this year using a curriculum called “Making Disciples” – this program pairs confirmands and mentors together, and instead of meeting together as a class as the primary component, they met on their own with their mentors for the most part, supplementing that core piece with group sessions, assignments, and service projects. I especially want to thank Rose, Michele, Rachel, Meg, and Brian who have served as mentors – this program required much more of our mentors than programs we’ve done before, and they were willing to give it a try, and give of their time, and share their own stories with our youth without really knowing what they were getting into. I also thank those of you who were willing to be interviewed by our confirmands for their essay project – I loved reading about your faith stories through their eyes. In a little bit, these four young people will stand before you, and their mentors and families and I lay hands on them, I will say, “the Holy Spirit work within you, that having been born through water and spirit you may live as a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ.”
“Born through water and spirit.” Hopefully this language rings a bell – these words, this language we use in baptism and confirmation is lifted right from our gospel lesson today, from Jesus words to the Pharisee Nicodemus. In our text, Nicodemus, a Pharisee leader, comes to Jesus at night to ask him questions. You get the impression that Nicodemus doesn’t want the other Pharisees to know what he’s up to – but it seems he is intrigued enough by Jesus to just need to have more information. Jesus tells him, “no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus – he seems so sincere you have to smile, so earnest – asks, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Today we may be familiar with Christian language of being “born again,” but for Nicodemus, this was new and strange talk. So Jesus continues – “very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.” He continues to talk about flesh, wind, and spirit, the wind blowing where it chooses. Nicodemus seems even more confused. “How can these things be?” Jesus answers, typical in his response to Pharisees, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” Jesus wonders how Nicodemus will get heavenly matters, struggling so much with earthly matters. But still, Jesus concludes, the message he has is about love and grace, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Why? Because “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Nicodemus, as a Pharisee, was a person who was an educated man, a religious leader, one known, as Pharisees were, for his understanding, command, and practice of the laws of the Torah, the laws the guided the Jewish people in faithful living according to the commands God has given them. And yet, despite all this, he couldn’t grasp what Jesus was talking about. “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” Jesus points out with his question how little Nicodemus understands, though he is one who would claim to know everything that was needed for faithful living. Jesus tries to reorient Nicodemus. “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes,” he says. “So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” In other words, though you can’t describe it, you know the wind is there and at work and you know what it does and what effect it has, as we talked about last Sunday. So it is with those born of the Spirit. So God calls us to be.
Among many other things, today is also Trinity Sunday, the day when, if we didn’t have so much else going on, my sermon might mostly be about understanding the Trinity, this God-in-three-persons thing that is unique to Christianity. We might talk about the doctrine of the Trinity – our Christian understanding of God that tells us God is our Creator, God is our Savior in Jesus Christ, and God is the Holy Spirit that Jesus talks about in today’s texts. I could tell you about the history of this doctrine, the technical language, how confusing it is to understand, how much fighting the early church did over “getting the doctrine right.” The Trinity is an important and central doctrine of the church. But our confirmands will be glad to tell you that they didn’t have some test on explaining the Trinity in order to be confirmed today. There is no test with scores and passing or failing in order to be a member of the United Methodist Church. I love for you to know and understand our doctrine and theology. I want for you to know what we believe as United Methodists. But that’s not the point.
For persons to become members of this congregation on the United Methodist Church, we ask them to take vows. We ask them not to declare doctrines and explain United Methodist theology, but we ask them to become part of the community, and to commit to a path of discipleship. Every time a new member joins the church, and every time a person is baptized, and every time a parent takes vows on behalf of a child when a child is baptized, they all answer this question, which to me is more important than getting the doctrines “right”: As members of this congregation, will you faithfully participate in its ministries by your prayers, your presence, your gifts, and your service. And now, we’ve decided to add a new word to the list, that our young people will include today: witness. Prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness. Responding to this question, committing to participate by your prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness is, to me, is the spirit of being a United Methodist, a member of this congregation.
Will you pray? Will you be in conversation with God? Will you talk to God about yourself, your dreams, your fears, your worries? Will you listen to God? Will you be open to God’s leading in your life? Will you lift before God the joys and pains and celebrations and struggles of your friends, your family, this congregation, and those beyond it?
Will you be present? Will you show up? Will you be here, be in this place of worship? Will your membership mean that you are a part of the active life of the congregation? Will you be present in less tangible ways – will you be present in your relationship with God? Will you show up for God, and participate in a relationship with God? Will you do more than just go through the motions?
Will you share your gifts? Will you give of your money and resources? Will you give of your time and your talents? Will you give of yourself and use your gifts in service to God in this congregation?
Will you serve? Will you serve God? Will you serve this church? Will you serve your neighbors, near and far? Will you serve those you would otherwise call enemies? Will you serve even those who have done you wrong? Or those who are least, and last, and lost?
Will you witness? Will you share about God’s love with the world? Will you share God’s love not only in words but in action? Will others know about God because of the witness you make with your life?
In my mind, if you can answer these questions in the affirmative, or at least with an honest commitment to try to say yes to these questions, then I’m not sure it matters so much if you can recite the books of the Bible, or if you know who John Wesley is, or if you can draw a diagram of the Trinity. There is a place for all such knowledge. But our foundation lies elsewhere – in our desire for a deeper relationship with God, in our desire to be disciples of Jesus Christ. For “indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn us, but in order that we might be saved through him.” Thanks be to God. Amen.