Festival of Homiletics: Anna Carter Florence

Here it is, the last post of reflections from the Festival of Homiletics! On Friday morning, we got to hear both a lecture and a sermon from Anna Carter Florence. She's been one of my favorites at the Festival since the first time I heard her speak about pastors and plagiarism. She was booked in a room that was too small for the crowd that was there to hear her, and from then on, she was given bigger spaces. Two years ago, she preached at the opening worship service at the Festival, an Easter Sunday service for all of us preachers who never get to attend Easter worship, and I found myself crying during the opening processional, unaware of just how much I needed to be in a resurrection service I wasn't leading myself. 

Carter Florence's lecture was titled, "The Book of Esther and a Truth for the World.” She spoke about her class called "Rehearsing Scripture" (see book on these themes here). Each semester, the class would spend time with one text, one story. And this particular semester, the focus was Esther. She talked about how enriched their experience of the text was after celebrating Purim with a Jewish congregation. She said, "We knew Esther was about parody and reversal, we just didn’t know what it would be like to reenact that, pushing the limits in the sanctuary." But "this is what we do when we read about a genocide that almost happened but didn’t." She continued, "Esther means: I am hiding. My students knew all this, but they were tossed in the deep end after practicing in the shallow end. And the experience helped them asked new questions, like why are identity questions so often at the root of violence? Does hiding who we are perpetuate/allow violence for others? Does pushing against the sacred help us figure out what is sacred?" 

Carter Florence talked about "play for the sake of justice" and described four "Roadmarkers" that make for the epiphany of scripture, drawing on her theatre background: 

1) Performance/rehearsing scripture is subjunctive. It happens in “as if” mode. What if we rehearse the text as if we are soldiers, as if we are teens, if we read it with a real congregation? Subjunctive is the first roadmarker: rehearse possibilities. Change one variable. See what transpires. 
2) Performance/reading of scripture is liminal. Plays at edges. Pushes limits. Takes us past limits of acceptable/believable/possible. What is more unbelievable? Margaritas in the sanctuary (as she and her class experienced with the congregation celebrating Purim), or ignoring genocide? 
3) Performance (reading scripture) is duplicitous. It isn’t the real world as we know it, but is more real than the reality we live. We expect theatre, but why does it seem to hold more truth than our every day lives? 
4) It is dangerous. Real lives are affected. Real change happens when we rehearse scripture. 

She also shared with us "rehearsal practices" for rehearsing scripture: 

Staying in the scene – walk into the text and keep listening. Don’t break character. Don’t interrupt once it starts. We would sometimes make the mistake in acting as though we were only one in a scene, not part of an ensemble. Stay in it to find something true to say together. Rehearsal reveals things about the script, but also about ourselves. Scripture is much better at reading us than we are at reading it. Requires great compassion and love for one another.
Switching roles - Rehearsing scripture is the first place where we learn to switch roles in our sacred stories. Think of how many different roles Sunday School kids get to play in the Christmas pageant over the years! Each time shows us something new. Every text is worth an annual pageant. 
Pushing the limits - Rehearsal is time for careful pressing against boundaries and limits. We can’t change play or cast or hurt or violate. But we can suspend judgment. It only happens in rehearsal or set aside space. Do it like Max in Where the Wild Things Are - he has adventures and then goes home for supper. Can we tolerate dissonance without shutting down, or questions without calling others heretics? If answer is yes, you can move forward. 
“What if? questions about scripture can change the reading faster than anything else. (Sticking to script while changing the one variable!) One very effective what is question to ask: “What if we read this text as an underground community of believers?” Slaves, Christians in communist countries, Jews in Nazi Germany, original readers of text. We take our free and open reading of scripture for granted sometimes. Descendants of slaves and descendants of Pharaoh have important things to wrestle with. 

***
Carter Florence preached her sermon, "Blessings for Latter Days" on Job 42:1-17. This sermon was transcendent, and my notes in no way do it justice. I tried to describe to colleagues after what she said and did a terrible job. So note below I include a link to where you can purchase his sermon.  

Job Scholars conclude, “Those speech cycles (from Job's terrible friends) are insufferable by design. It’s what the author of Job was going for in those chapters. Job is the puzzle that can’t be solved.” 

Carter Florence said, "What words say and what they do are very different matters. It is one things to expect galling speech to make you mad – it is another thing for it to happen. The point of Job perhaps is not inspiring us, but infuriating us, so that we can’t stand one more word of terrible teaching about suffering." 

"If you’re going to be a talking theologian, you better be a walking theologian, all the way to the White House."

How the author chooses to tell the story is as important as story itself, Carter Florence said. Chapter after chapter of tiresome speeches. Chapter after chapter of Job-splaining! His friends telling Job how to feel. 

One outcome of a function-driven reading of Job: we pool our rage, and throw it at Job’s friends. We could critique them/the book of Job and call it a day. But, Carter Florence says, that's too easy. It protects us from our own story. We have to play this script – some days as Job but we are often Job’s friends. Searching for words and failing. We must speak, speaking is inadequate. 

She had her students participate in a Worst Words of Consolation Ever Contest! What were the worst things people ever said when you to you to "comfort" you when you were broken and grieving? Results? Everything collected was a paraphrase of what Job’s friends uttered. 

The message we/others/the world seems to speak to suffering: "If you are not ________ enough, you deserve _______, it’s God’s will so accept it." 31 chapters, weeks, years, centuries, this Author of Job wants us to FEEL IT, how it enrages us, wants us to feel it. Job’s voice refuses to accept their view of the world. They DO NOT get to name his experience, and they DO NOT get to come in between him and God. 

Political preaching: It's lament. It's dispute. It's embodied preaching that is unafraid to name truth and experience for yourself. "Political preaching feels like freedom and restored order." 

You can purchase a recording of Carter Florence's sermon here. (Scroll to the bottom.) I have never purchased a recording before myself, but I think I will have to with this one!

I didn't take notes, but you can also find the excellent remarks from Sens. Cory Booker and Elizabeth Warren here. 

Festival of Homiletics: David Lose

Still a few more posts about May's Festival of Homiletics! I think I have two more posts after this one. I don't know if you're tired of them, but they help me to actually retain the content of all the great preachers I heard. Up today: David Lose. Parishioners of mine might recognize his name - he's the source I'm most likely to quote in my sermons. I love his unique and pastoral perspective on the texts, and he brought a unique perspective to the Festival's theme of Preaching and Politics.

Lose lectured and preached. His sermon was titled, "Nothing Comes from Nothing," based on Isaiah 55:1-13 and Matthew 20:1-16.

Isaiah's text starts with "Ho!" Untranslatable in the Hebrew, the word serves as exclamation of delight, joy, surprise, or just to get our attention. It is always emphatic. It says, "Pay attention, this matters!" Isaiah's message is: "Stop looking and start living. It is hard to believe this promise, but listen! This is for free!!"

We have Isaiah’s promise, Lose said, but no record of response. The parable of the laborers in the vineyard is Matthew/Jesus's attempt to respond.

The last-hired workers work an hour – after all, a little is better than nothing, because nothing comes from nothing. But, grace and mercy screw everything up!Day in day out, grace messes with our order and is the last thing we want. If it turns out that something comes from nothing, what will we do?

There's no more counting in Jesus’ world, Lose said. We are willing to kill and die for our false sense of order, sense of control, until we realize we were never in control in the first place. Being out of control scares us! It makes us vote for anyone who promises law and order.

But when you realize you have nothing, then God’s word of daily bread for free is finally good news. It never will make sense. It is always absurd. But it is good news. The moment you say you’ve got nothing, you hear God say, “Nothing! Now that’s something I can work with.” No one has done enough to "earn" from God – we deserve nothing – but we given all things through God! Creating something out of nothing happens to be one of God’s favorite things to do. Nothing comes from nothing – except for with God.

***

David Lose

Lose's lecture was titled, "The Gospel of Jesus: Political or Parabolic?" and it was particularly fascinating. I hope my notes convey any sense of it.

"How do we persuade one another?" Lose asked. Science tells us that when we're presented with conflicting facts that go against our deeply held convictions, it isn't our rational brain that responds, but the part of our brain that responds to threatening information. "We don’t distinguish between intellectual threats and physical threats."

Lose talked about how taste tests showed that people liked New Coke better than Classic Coke - but we still hated New Coke as consumers. Taste tests also show that people like RC Cola better than other colas, but we still don't buy that the most (where it is available.) Why? Because we like the "story" of Coca-Cola, and who we are as soda drinkers - our place in the story, and we reject things that don't go with this story. Lose talked about a professor sharing this story with his family - how people like RC better, but wouldn't believe it even after they saw taste-test results, and the professor's family wanted to take the test themselves. Test results? They preferred the taste of RC. But they weren't persuaded! Even with the results, the facts, they still didn't believe they liked it better, and got angry at their husband/father for trying to tell them otherwise.

We use stories to make sense of our lives and organize our experiences. When we get together, we share our stories. We have stories we tell ourselves: I do this _____ because I believe that ____________. The political parties in the United States are keepers of a particular story about what America is. What is the most compelling story of America? There is more than one. John Kerry wasn’t relatable, but George W. Bush told good stories. Facts are unpersuasive.

Lose argues that most political preaching that happens can take place because it takes place in very homogeneous communities: You are preaching to your choir that tells the same story as you are telling.

Jesus clearly didn’t take a homiletics class, said Lose. He rarely quotes scripture. When he does, he usually does for 1 of 2 reasons. 1. To answer a question. (But then he tells a story.) or 2. In order to reinterpret scripture or to call a passage into question, to challenge validity of it.

Yet, we preachers are taught to start and stick and end with text. This is not what Jesus does (in the synoptics)! Mostly he just tells stories. Improbable stories. Intriguing stories. Dysfunctional but familiar family dynamics. Filling us with wonder. Violence and power grabs. Mercy and grace. Reversals of fortune.

He isn’t trying to persuade his audience. He’s trying to overwhelm them narratively with a better story, more life-giving story, more filled with God’s character than one they are currently living. And he didn’t just tell parables. His whole life-ministry-death-resurrection is one whole parable. To throw one story alongside another to see what happens – that’s what parables do. A familiar-enough-to-be-recognized story that is challenged with twists and turns.

Jesus threw his life’s story alongside the story of empire. He’s raised! But that’s just another story, right? And those who see him are "in joy disbelieving," even while they see it. Resurrection is not even quite meant to be explained, but entered into.

What story can we tell people that will overwhelm their story? This story: You are enough. You have enough.

Lose concluded with two hunches:

Hunch 1: We share Jesus best through telling stories of scriptures, and our lives as people transformed by faith.

Hunch 2: Parables are helpful but hard to interpret. Whose parable is it? How you see and understand Jesus will influence how you interpret parables.

I found this lecture to be brilliant, and I've been mulling it over a lot. I'm fascinated by how people change their minds about things, about long-held beliefs. Our current political/cultural context should tell us, as Lose says, that facts are not persuasive. But Jesus is, isn't he? So how can we tell people a better story - the story of the life-transforming work of Jesus? I'll be thinking about that.

Sermon, "Us and Them: Should Christians Be Involved in Politics?" Jeremiah 29:1-14

Sermon 2/26/17

Jeremiah 29:1-14

Us and Them: Should Christians Be Involved in Politics?

            Today we’re diving in to a somewhat controversial question. Should Christians – should churches – should pastors – should we be involved in politics? When we think about “politics,” many of us jump right to relentless election cycles and negative campaigns and name-calling and corruption, and a gut response is: Let’s get as far away from that as possible! Of course we shouldn’t get mixed up in politics! I think, though, for us to answer our question – should we be involved in politics? – we have to start by understanding what politics is, or at least what it is meant to be. The word “politics” has many connotations today, but its origin is more simple and straightforward. It comes from the Greek root word polis, which means “city.” Politics simply meant “the affairs of the city.” In other words, politics meant, means things that are related to the concerns of the places where people live.

Our scripture passage today comes from a time when the Israelites were living in exile in Babylon. Israel had gone through a long period of being conquered by foreign nations and being occupied by foreign rule, and eventually, even sent out from their homeland to live in other nations. Not all of Jerusalem was sent to live in exile, but the leaders – the royal family, and many of the priests and the prophets, even the artisans – all the people responsible for essentially “running the nation” – they were all exiled to Babylon. Jeremiah, a prophet, wasn’t in Israel either. He was living and writing from Egypt. He too was far from home, and had deep insight into what his people were going through. 

            Jeremiah writes a letter to the exiled leaders in Babylon. He says that God has this message for them, “Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. [Get married] and have [children]. Watch your children get married and have children. Continue to grow your family, your people. Multiply there, and don’t decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” I can only imagine that the people found Jeremiah’s words shocking: Seek the welfare of Babylon? Seek the welfare of the nation that had essentially captured and imprisoned them far from home? But Jeremiah urges the people to live, really live, really thrive, even in Babylon, and to care for even what happens to Babylon.

            “Seek the welfare of the city.” In the Hebrew text, the word we read as “welfare” is the word “shalom.” If this word is familiar to you, you might know it is often translated as “peace.” But unfortunately, we sometimes use the word “peace” as a throwaway. It loses some of its power. Doug Priest writes, “The meaning of shalom goes farther. It means wholeness and health. Shalom refers to the internal peace we have in our soul, spirit, and body. But shalom is even more than that. It applies to our relationships at work and to our relationship with nature and creation. As one author wrote, ‘To have shalom is to be whole and healthy in yourself and in all that challenges you, be it people, be it the issues of your world, your environment, your society, or be it the problems which are at hand, the problems which await you.’” (1)

            God tells them that after seventy years’ time, Israel will be able to return home. Of course, some of the people Jeremiah is writing to won’t even live to see that day. But their children and grandchildren will. God urges them to think about the future, about the world they want their descendants to have. God says, “For surely I know the plans I have for you … plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” When the people call on God, pray to God, God will hear. When they search for God, they will find God, if they seek with their whole hearts. “I will let you find me.” God says. And I will gather you back together, and restore you, and bring you back home. If they seek the shalom of the city – even in Babylon – they will find God, find that future and hope God promises.

            In the broadest, purest sense, to be political is to be deeply concerned with the affairs of the places where people live. And I find in Jeremiah’s writing, in God’s words, a call to be deeply invested in working for shalom – the wholeness and health and thriving of the places where people live. God calls us to be invested in building up not just our own lives, but the whole community, building for the generations to come. God promises us a future, with hope – when we make sure it is God’s vision for shalom that we’re pursuing. I think pursuing God’s future for the world is political. We’re choosing and advocating for God’s principles to guide and shape our world over many sets of alternative principles!

            I think our role as people of faith is to work on God’s behalf for true shalom. Our United Methodist heritage includes a long history people working for change in their world and their communities, grounded in and driven by their faith.       Today, our United Methodist Book of Discipline – our book of rules that shape our order and structure – includes Social Principles, our statement of belief on almost any social issue you can think of, from military service to the death penalty to climate change to gun control. That doesn’t mean that all United Methodists think the same things. The point is: we have a historic commitment to letting our faith guide our action in the world. In the introduction and preamble to our Social Principles, we read:

“[We believe] God's love for the world is an active and engaged love, a love seeking justice and liberty. We cannot just be observers. So we care enough about people's lives to risk interpreting God's love, to take a stand, to call each of us into a response, no matter how controversial or complex. The church helps us think and act out a faith perspective … We know ourselves to be responsible to God for social and political life.” (2)

            We don’t just have to think about these questions of faith and politics in the abstract. We happen to have several local politicians who are active in our community of faith. They were willing to let me ask them some questions, and either via email or in person, shared their responses with me. I was able to speak with Ron McDougall, our mayor, Charles Newvine, deputy mayor, and Travis Dann, town justice. Dede Scozzafava, who has a long history in state politics, has been down south, or we would have had her input as well. I’m so thankful to all of them for being willing to answer my questions. Here’s a bit of what I learned.

            I asked each of them how they got involved in politics. Travis wrote, “I grew up in a family of service.  My earliest memories are of my Dad as a volunteer fireman and fire chief … I never realized how ingrained in me that service had become until long after I had become a Trooper.  Service to others was simply what everyone around me did.” Charles, too, has roots in his family that led him to public service. He said, “I became involved in politics 8 years ago. I started going to Village board meetings … just to listen and learn what was going on in my community ... Working with the public at Newvine's Auto Parts allows me to have "my thumb on the pulse" of my constituents. Which … allows me to hear both sides of the story and it also allows me the opportunity to see opposite ends of the public. People that are very well off and have lavish things as well as others who can't afford necessary parts to keep their vehicle safe and severely struggle to get by … I wanted to represent all people. People from all walks of life. I wanted to get involved because I care about the future of my children and the future of everyone's children in Gouverneur.” As I sat and talked with Ron, I learned that he’s been involved in politics for most of his adult life. In the 70s, he was a union leader. A decade later, he was the President of the Labor Council in Northern New York. He was a delegate for the DNC. Once he was retired, certain folks, including his wife, encouraged him to get involved in local politics. He became a village trustee, then deputy mayor, then mayor. His early experience as a union leader really shaped and prepared him for the positions he would later hold.

            I asked: Should Christians be involved in politics? Ron thought about the time of Jesus – how even the story of Jesus’ birth has political overtones. In Luke’s gospel, we read that Jesus ends up born in Bethlehem because of the registration and tax program of the Roman Empire. Jesus was a champion of those on the fringes of society, and Ron sees a parallel in the way politics can work to seek fairness for all people. Travis asks, “If Christians are NOT involved in politics, who will fill those roles?” He writes, “Christians have been made out to be outside of popular, mainstream culture while our love of Jesus is labelled as outdated … We must stand up and be proud to be Christians, not be pushed into oblivion!” Charles writes, “All people should be involved in politics. To me that is the essence of what makes the world great. The opportunity to make life better for everyone ... I want all people to get involved … I wish people would see that the reason to be involved in politics is make the community a better place.”

            I asked each of them how their faith shapes their work and supports what they do, even as we acknowledge our understanding of the separation of church and state. Ron spoke about how his prayer life undergirds his work in the community, and he spoke about the active roles in their faith communities that many of our local politicians have. He talked about our origins of faith as a nation, and how people came to this land seeking the freedom to practice their faith as they desired. We often forget that, he said. Travis shared,“I returned to my faith well after I had accepted my life of service.  As I have grown in my faith, it has helped me grow in my service and they feed each other.” He cited James’ words about faith being shown in our good works as “particularly poignant” for him. “They really do go together!” he said. “I have been a better Trooper and Legislator as my faith grew and my faith grew as I became better at my jobs.” Charles admitted that this is a “hard question. The foundations of my faith came from my parents. I strive to be like them … I am most recently questioning my faith and how I can faithfully, undoubtedly make Jesus Christ a part of everything I do. It is a hard concept for me to grasp … I struggle with my faith even more than I struggle with politics and believe me, politics are a struggle … Am I washing [peoples’] feet? Is my heart as true to theirs as theirs is to mine? Am I asking for their hand? Am I showing compassion as Jesus did while not expecting anything in return? My work in politics is a way to reach people on a different level in hopes to fulfill my quest in faith. It fills my heart to see people come to me for advice. It makes me proud to think that people trust me enough to allow me the opportunity to speak on their behalf.” Charles gets bonus points for quoting my sermons, but I also appreciate his reflections on the struggle that we all have to daily live out the principles of our faith.

            I asked Ron, Travis and Charles about the current divisions in our nation, and asked them to share examples of working across “dividing lines” in local politics. Fortunately, they affirmed my impression that in our local community, long-lasting personal relationships are more important than political affiliations. Ron talked about recommending a Republican to fill a certain vacant position, even though he is a Democrat. Some of his colleagues were surprised, and said, “Are you sure?” But Ron said: I know him. I know that he’ll do the job to the best of his ability. I know that he’s the most qualified.” Charles wrote, “The common ground we find in our small community is for the greater good. It is amazing to see. The new community center, Riverview Park, Gouverneur Hospital, infrastructure upgrades and the Chamber of Commerce are all great examples of people working together across party lines to make this community even better than it already is.” Travis shared, “In local politics, everyone knows everyone personally.  It is far easier to "bash" someone you don't know in a personal way than to do the same to someone you sit across the aisle [from] at church.” 

            I asked them about the challenges they see our area facing, and their hope and vision for our future. All three shared similar challenges with which most of us could identify. Travis said, “[In] order for our kids to be "successful" we, most often, must encourage them to go away.  We don't have the number of productive CAREERS here that we used to have … This feeds into the national political divide and adds to a feeling of hopelessness.  Feelings of hopelessness lead into the drug issues that plague our community.” Ron talked about the standard of living and the need for more affordable housing options. Charles identified poverty, unemployment, and stagnant business growth. But all three also laid out a vision for a future with hope. Charles wrote that he sets his eyes on a Gouverneur as a place for his children and the children of the community to have a strong and vibrant future. “After all,” he said, “I am just borrowing time” from them. Ron says that he has to have faith when he imagines a future for Gouverneur. You have to see the glass as half-full, have to see the potential and possibility, he says. If you can’t see what might be, the potential, he said, politics is the wrong business for you, and you aren’t practicing your faith! Travis wrote, “Our men's group often agreed that we were on the edge of a spiritual revival here.  I still believe that is happening!”

            God calls us to seek after the welfare, the shalom, the wholeness of the place where we live – whether where we are is just where we want to be, or whether where we are is far from what we’d call home. Either way, God’s people are meant to seek and to cultivate shalom, a deep peace that comes from reconciliation and right relationship with God and one another. Maybe that’s not what we think of when we think of “politics” today. But I can’t think of anything that more embodies being concerned with the “affairs of the city” than working together for true shalom. Should Christians be political? I’ll echo Travis’s words. If not Christians, then who is it that we want to fill these roles? So let us seek after the welfare, the shalom, of our world, our nation, and our community right here. For God has plans for us, plans for a future with hope. And when we seek God with all our hearts, I believe we will find the shalom we seek. Amen.

(1) Priest, Doug. “Seek the Shalom of the City,” http://newurbanworld.org/seek-the-shalom-of-the-city/. Priest’s quote is unattributed.

(2) Excerpts from the Book of Discipline 2016 of The United Methodist Church, introduction/preamble to the Social Principles, and the introduction to the section on The Political Community. 

Sermon, "Us and Them: Agreeing and Disagreeing," 1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Sermon 2/19/17

1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Us and Them: Agreeing and Disagreeing

            I was visiting with a parishioner yesterday, and she was telling me how she mostly watches sport on TV because she doesn’t think there’s anything else on worth watching. She said, “I thought it would be better once the election is over, but…” and she let her sentence trail off. I’m sure we can easily fill in the rest for her. We thought tensions would ebb – but there is so much fear, so much anger, so much pain, so much hurt, so much division. I have strong political views, and I’m sure many of you do as well, but I’ve found myself wanting to disengage lately, even where I’m passionate about issues, because the level of meanness is exhausting. I’ve noticed that a handful of my friends have quit facebook altogether lately. Somehow we think that our words and actions online don’t count, and people seem free to be hurtful online in a way they remember not to in “real life.” I’m not giving up on facebook, but I will admit that I’ve used the “hide” feature more than once, allowing me to not see posts from people who have nothing nice to say. I’m weary. We talked last Sunday about our call to live out our baptismal vows, to seek justice and extend welcome in God’s name. But it is hard to act, to stay faithful and strong when it feels like everyone is getting clobbered out there in the world. I’m not naïve, and I don’t expect or even want us to all be of one mind and one voice. But I’m saddened and fearful when I see that disagreement turn into fights turn into wars.

And so today, we turn back to 1 Corinthians, the book we were looking at this fall when we talked about our theme “Church Can Happen Anywhere.” The Corinthians are the perfect community to think about when we need to look at conflict and God’s call to us in the midst of turmoil and division. Our passage for today comes from near the very beginning of 1 Corinthians. Paul doesn’t waste any time getting to the point of his letter to this new faith community. After nine verses of greeting and blessing, he jumps right in: “I appeal to you, in the name of Jesus: be in agreement with each other. Don’t have divisions among you. Be united in the same mind and the same purpose.” He goes on to describe that he’s heard reports from some of Chloe’s people. We don’t know anything much about Chloe – this is the only place her name is mentioned. But the verse suggests that she was a person of some significance or leadership in the church at Corinth. At any rate, Chloe’s people want Paul to know what’s been going on in Corinth.

In the early faith communities, one particular leader would be the founder – the first person who came to the place to share the message of Jesus and the good news about God’s grace. But that person would move on to other communities, and other teachers and preachers would eventually come and visit with the fledgling church. Apparently, at least three people have had an impact on the community at Corinth – Paul, Apollos, and Cephas – who we know better by his Hebrew name Simon Peter. All of them have been through Corinth and taught the people there about Jesus and how to be followers of Jesus. But something troubling has happened. People in Corinth have started identifying more with the messenger of the good news than with the message, and so instead of being followers of Jesus, people are claiming that they are followers of Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas. Each of these teachers would have had a unique way of sharing the message – just like no pastor you’ve had here is the same – but people are starting to divide and align themselves with whichever teacher they liked best.

Paul very quickly lets them know that this is not the way to go about things. “Has Christ been divided,” he asks, or “was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?” The unspoken resounding answer to all of these questions is, of course, NO. Paul says he was sent to proclaim the good news, but that his preaching wasn’t full of eloquent wisdom. This is a good thing though, he concludes, because then people know that the power of the message he shares is from Jesus and the cross, not from Paul himself. The message of Jesus and the cross might seem like foolishness to those who haven’t received it, who don’t understand the strength of Jesus offering his life for us – but when we get it, when we believe and understand – the message of Jesus is the saving power of God. Grounded in the message of Jesus, Paul spends the whole rest of the letter urging the Corinthians to work for reconciliation, and healing of conflict and division.

            Last week I shared with you John Wesley’s words from his sermon Catholic Spirit. He asked if we could be of one heart, even if we were not of one opinion. I want to tell you a bit more about the sermon those words come from. Wesley was preaching on a passage from 2 Kings. In the passage, we meet a man named Jehu who has been anointed by the prophet Elisha as the next king of Israel. Jehu is on a mission to stop the worship of the god Baal, and to destroy a temple to Baal, so that Israel will be faithful to God once again. On his way to confront the priests of Baal, he meets a man named Jehonadab on the road. Jehonadab is a Kenite, not an Israelite. He has some different ways of worshiping God, and he has a different lifestyle from Jehu and the Israelites. But he’s somewhat of a sage, a wise counselor among his people. Jehu sees him and says to him: “Is your heart as true to mine as mine is to yours?” And Jehonadab answers, “It is.” And so Jehu says, “If it is, give me your hand.” Jehonadab does, and together, they go to return Israel to a faithful worship of God.

            It is this exchange of words that Wesley uses as the centerpiece of his sermon. Wesley writes, "’If it be, give me thy hand.’ I do not mean, ‘Be of my opinion.’ You need not: I do not expect or desire it. Neither do I mean, ‘I will be of your opinion.’ I cannot, it does not depend on my choice: I can no more think, than I can see or hear, as I will. Keep you your opinion; I mine; and that as steadily as ever. You need not even endeavor to come over to me, or bring me over to you … Let all opinions alone on one side and the other: only ‘give me thine hand.’”

            Wesley sees a lot of room for being in relationship with one another even where opinions are very different. This was an important topic for him to think about, because he was long-engaged in a struggle with his own church, the Church of England, about theology and worship practices, and engaged in a struggle with his own Methodist movement about whether or not the Americas should break away from England to be their own people and own faith movement. Still, Wesley didn’t believe that relationships could flourish without solid common ground. That’s the “Is your heart as true to mine as mine is to yours” part. Here’s how Wesley interpreted these words. He asks: Is your heart right with God? Do you believe in God and God’s perfection? Do you believe in Jesus? Is Jesus revealed in your soul? Does he dwell in your heart? Is your faith filled with the energy of love? Do you love God with all your heart, soul, and mind? Are you busy doing God’s will and work in the world? Do you serve God faithfully and reverently? Is your heart right toward you neighbor? Do you love all people without exception, even your enemies? Do you show your love with good works? In order to say that your hearts were true to each other, Wesley expected you to be able to answer yes to all these questions! That’s a lot of common ground. Interestingly, Wesley doesn’t say anything about specific theological tenets, even though he would argue fervently for his points of view, and he doesn’t say anything specific about worship practices, although he had strong feelings about them, and he doesn’t even claim any particular religious tradition as correct, even acknowledging in his sermon that everyone thinks they’re right about everything, but no one really can know that they’ve got all the answers. (1) If, Wesley says, your heart is true to mine as mine is to yours, then we might join hands and journey together. We do this, he says, not by coming to hold the same opinions and practices, but instead by loving one another, praying for one another, and encouraging each other to love and good works.

            I find Wesley’s words to be powerful. He was an extremely opinionated person. He wrote about everything from politics to theology to nutrition to advice on how long people should sleep to writing a medical book with suggest treatments for a variety of illnesses. He considered himself kind of an expert in everything. I can only imagine that he was sometimes fairly difficult to be around. But even still, as right as he thought was about everything, he was more interested in finding some common ground for serving God than in making sure everyone else was just like him.

            The apostle Paul was like him – another strongly opinionated person who didn’t hold back from sharing how he thought things should be done. Yet, again and again Paul writes that in Christ Jesus, we are made new creations, and some of the old dividing lines fade in light of our identity in Christ. No longer Greek or Jew, male or female, slave or free – not because we’re all the same, and not because our diversity isn’t valuable, but because our common ground and common purpose is even more important. Paul Bellan-Boyer writes, “Clothing [ourselves with Christ does not erase our differences, but it does cover them, set them aside, put them in a new context … Paul does not ask that the Corinthians be identical – only that they cease to work at cross purposes, and instead work for cross purposes.” (2)

            I think, then, that’s a question we need to ask: Do we have some common ground that is more important to us than being right? Do we have some common ground on which we can build up our relationships? Do we have a common purpose that drives us? For many years, I served on the Board of Directors of the General Board of Church and Society or GBCS. That’s our denominations public policy and advocacy agency, located in Washington, DC. The agency, among other things, represents our United Methodist beliefs right on Capitol Hill. I’ll talk a bit more about their work next week, but today, I want to share this: GBCS would partner with a variety of different faith groups in order to amplify our voice on the Hill. Sometimes, we’d partner with faith groups where we had a lot of disagreement on a variety of issues. For example, United Methodists and Southern Baptists have different beliefs about a lot of theological and social issues. But we’d still work together when we could find common ground in our Christian identity on issues that mattered to both of us, even knowing that we would never share the same perspective on other important matters.

            “Is your heart as true to mine as mine is to yours? … If it is, give me your hand.” In the midst of disagreeing, passionately, about issues that are near and dear to us, I think we can find some common ground in simple things, ways we can agree to treat each other. We can speak to each other face to face when we’re disagreeing, speak to each other directly, rather than to others about each other. We can avoid making generalizations and stereotypes about groups of people. We can talk about what we believe and why we believe it using “I statements” – “I think this, I believe this” – owning our words. We can remember that our online words are still ours – who we are online is who we are – period. We can remember to be critical of ideas, but hesitant to be critical of people. We can listen – really listen – to people with whom we disagree. We can be kind and compassionate. Simple things. Basic things. But these basic things can give us common ground worth standing on with the rest of humankind!

            And then, we can push ourselves to go deeper, friends. Remember the questions that Wesley asked: Is our heart right with God? Is Jesus revealed in our souls? Do we love God with all our heart, soul, and mind? Are we busy doing God’s will and work in the world? Do we love all people without exception, even our enemies? Do we show our love with good works? Friends – if together we can say yes to all of those questions, if we will, if we strive to be able to say “yes” with confidence to all of this – what differences could possibly hold us back from accomplishing God’s vision for the world? “Is your heart as true to mine as mine is to yours? … If it is, give me your hand.” Amen.

(1) Wesley, John, Catholic Spirit, http://www.umcmission.org/Find-Resources/John-Wesley-Sermons/Sermon-39-Catholic-Spirit, and my own paraphrase of his words.  

(2) Bellan-Boyer, Paul. http://citycalledheaven.blogspot.com/2011/01/no-divisions.html

Sermon, "Us and Them: The Dividing Wall," Ephesians 2:11-22

Sermon 2/12/17

Ephesians 2:11-22

Us and Them: The Dividing Wall

One of my favorite poems is Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall,” written in 1914. “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” it begins. The poem describes two farmers – the narrator and another farmer who are neighbors. After winter, they find both set out to repair the wall between their properties, which has cracks and gaps after the weather of the season. As they’re walking the line together, the narrator asks his neighbor why they even need a wall, since the narrator has apple trees and the neighbor has pine trees, and it is clear which part belongs to each. The neighbor responds, “Good fences make good neighbors.” But the narrator persists: “‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I’d ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That wants it down.’” But in the end, his neighbor only repeats the proverb: “Good fences make good neighbors.”

I wonder: is that the only way we can relate to each other? Across fences? Is that the best we can hope for when it comes to being neighbors? Somehow, when Jesus calls to us throughout the gospels to love God and love neighbor as we love ourselves, I feel like he had something deeper in mind. And yet, we’re experiencing a time of extreme division, polarization as a nation, as a global community, and I’m sure you would agree that the impact of this division is spilling over into our local communities, into our everyday lives. Here, in our own congregations, we have some folks who voted for Donald Trump, and some who voted for Hillary Clinton, and maybe some who voted for someone else, and some who chose not to vote. Can we still be in relationship with each other? Could we actually talk about what we believe and why without resorting to arguments and heated words and strained friendships? And where does our faith come into play in the midst of this?

            Today we’re starting a new sermon series: “Us and Them.” We’ll be thinking about how we respond, as people of faith, to a nation, a world divided. We’ll be asking ourselves what God calls us to do and say, how God calls us to act, in light of all that is happening around us. And we’ll ask questions about what it means for Christians to be involved in politics. Should we do that? How do we do that? We’ll see what we can discover together over these next few weeks.  

            Our reading today is from the letter to the Ephesians, the community of Jesus-followers in Ephesus. We kind of drop right into the middle of the letter, where the author has been talking about God’s grace and how the Christians in Ephesians have been blessed and redeemed not by good works, as if salvation is something we can earn, but simply by the abundant gift of God’s grace. The Christians in Ephesus are Gentiles; that is, they were not Jewish or converts to Judaism. Instead, they simply became followers of Jesus once they heard the gospel, the good news preached to them. In the early church, there were a lot of different feelings about Gentile followers of Jesus. Some folks thought Gentile Christians should convert to Judaism as a part of their discipleship. After all, Jesus was Jewish and never abandoned following Jewish customs even as he taught people a new way of understanding their relationship with God. But others thought it made more sense simply to follow the teachings of Jesus. Circumcision was a physical difference that marked these groups of Christians. Jewish Christians were circumcised, and Gentile Christians were not. In many of our New Testament readings, like in the writings of Paul, we discover that there are ongoing tensions between the two groups of Christians, and how they related to each other and the church as a whole.

            Our author, though, doesn’t see any reason for tension and division. In fact, just the opposite. He argues that in Jesus Christ, those who were “far off” – that is those who were Gentiles and not part of the covenant God made with the Israelites that we read of in the Hebrew Bible, the Old Testament – those who were far off are brought near to God, near to God’s promises. “For [Christ] is our peace,” he says, and in his very flesh “he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.” Jesus creates “one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace.” All of us are reconciled to God through the same Jesus, he argues, so any hostility we have is put to death in the process. Jesus isn’t sent just to one group of people, but to all. Jesus proclaims peace “to you who were far off and peace to those who were near,” he writes, and all of us have access to one God, one Spirit, through Christ.

            That’s not all, though. God doesn’t just knock down the dividing walls between us. Instead, God calls us to build something up, together. We read, “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

            In other words: our citizenship, our allegiance is important. But before we get to any national identities, and certainly before we claim allegiance to any political parties, our primary citizenship is as members of the household of God, and our primary allegiance is to Jesus. Our lives without God were no lives at all. But Jesus gives everything, even his life, to reconcile us to God and one another. And so God calls us together, to work together to serve God in love. Jesus is the cornerstone. The apostle and prophets, the teachers of faith are the foundation. And together we create whatever dreams God is calling us to make a reality in this world.

            Our citizenship is in the household of God, and our allegiance is to Jesus, who we’ve promised to follow as our Savior. What would that change about how we relate to each other if we reminded ourselves of that, our primary identity? John Wesley, founder of the Methodist movement, shared these words in his sermon called On a Catholic Spirit: “Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion? Without all doubt, we may.” What do you think, friends? Can we love alike, and be of one heart, even if we aren’t of one opinion?

            Next week we’ll be talking more specifically about what we do when we disagree – vehemently even – with each other about important issues. But today, as we think about the dividing walls, the barriers we’re putting up between heart and heart, here are some things I’ve been thinking about:

We might not understand someone, might not understand why they think the way they do. What should be our response when we don’t understand why someone believes what they believe? We might not understand why someone is afraid. You might not understand why someone is afraid of terrorists or losing our national identity. How might you help ease their fears? You might not understand why someone fears they will lose their rights, lose their protections under the law. How might you help ease their fears? We might not even be able to consider someone a friend, because we’re so baffled, disgusted, even by what they think and feel. We might even count them as an enemy. Even so, how does Jesus call us to treat our enemies? Jesus challenges us to love them! But if your enemy interprets your words and actions to be hateful or hurtful instead of loving, it’s likely your approach to loving your enemy needs some significant work!

            It wasn’t long ago – just last month, in fact, that we talked about Jesus’ baptism and renewed our baptismal covenant as a congregation. Still, I think it is worth looking at again, particularly looking at the questions and responses we’re asked when we’re baptized, when we stand for someone being baptized, or when we are confirmed or become members by professing our faith. Here’s what we’re asked:

On behalf of the whole Church, I ask you: Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin? The response: I do. One mark of our citizenship as God’s children is a commitment to turning away from evil. We commit to repenting of our own sin. This isn’t a call for us to point out the sins of others, but to examine our own lives, and to turn back toward God if we’ve been going in a different direction, away from God. That’s what repentance means – turning our minds, hearts, and lives back to God’s direction.

We’re asked: Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves? The response: I do. We accept both the freedom and the power, the responsibility, to resist evil, injustice, and oppression, however they show up in the world. Resisting evil isn’t exclusive to the realm of politics. Fighting injustice and oppression isn’t something we support because of our political affiliation. It’s part of our baptismal identity. When we see people hurting in God’s world, we’re called to respond because of our identity in Christ Jesus. We’re called to combat racism, and fight discrimination, and champion the poor, the orphan, the widow, the stranger, the most vulnerable that God lifts up all throughout the scriptures. It’s a part of our very baptismal covenant to do so, because our citizenship is in the household of God, and we have to stand up for all of God’s children.

We’re asked: Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the Church which Christ has opened to people of all ages, nations, and races? The response: I do. In our baptismal vows, we confess that it is Jesus Christ, and not the President, or Congress, or the Supreme Court, or anyone else who saves us. We promise that it is Jesus who is our Lord, Jesus who we serve, and not our own agendas, and not the promise of success and power and fortune. And we remember that God has extended the same invitation to all people, and all kinds of people.

And finally, we’re asked: According to the grace given to you, will you remain faithful members of Christ's holy Church and serve as Christ's representatives in the world? Our response: I will. We represent Jesus in the world. We take it pretty seriously that our elected officials represent us in our nation’s politics. We expect them to listen to our concerns. We expect to be able to hold them accountable or we can choose not to elect them anymore, not to have them represent us anymore. We give it a lot of weight, don’t we? How much weight do we give to our vows to represent Christ to the world? Are we doing a good job of representing Christ’s interests in the world? Do we listen to his concerns? Are we a good representation of Jesus to those around us? How do we demonstrate our allegiance to Jesus?

Do good fences make good neighbors? Maybe. But I think we can do better. Jesus is our peace, and he is constantly working in our lives to break down the hostilities that we make between ourselves and others. He brings together those who are far off and those who are near, so that we might be one body in Christ, serving one God, members of the one household of God. So friends, as we begin, though we may not always think alike, let us love alike. Though we may not always be of one opinion, let us be of one heart, in word and deed and spirit. There’s far too much at stake in our world for us to let it be otherwise.

Amen.

Sermon for Reign of Christ/Christ the King Sunday, Year C, "Jesus, Remember Me," Luke 23:33-43

Sermon 11/20/16

Luke 23:33-43

Jesus, Remember Me

Singing: Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. (488)

Today is the last Sunday of the Christian Year, which is also known as Christ the King or Reign of Christ Sunday. How many of you know what Christ the King or Reign of Christ Sunday is? It’s not one of our major holy days. In fact, often, Christ the King Sunday gets a bit neglected, because most years, it falls on Thanksgiving Sunday, which isn’t technically even part of the liturgical calendar, but usually takes precedence for Christians in the United States. If we have to choose between Thanksgiving as a focus in worship and focusing on “Christ the King,” we usually choose Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving is important, and indeed, that’s the direction I had planned to go today. But as I was preparing for worship this week, I just felt drawn to the themes that come with this Reign of Christ Sunday. I was thinking about what my Uncle Bill said at the end of his sermon last week, when he was reflecting on the election. He said that whatever happens, our call as the church of Christ is unchanged. Our allegiance is to God, and Jesus asks for our obedience. With those themes in mind, we come to this Christ the King Sunday.

It’s a relatively new addition to the Christian calendar actually. In 1925, Pope Pius XI announced a new feast day, the Feast of Christ the King. He said that he felt that the rise of atheistic communism and secularism were a direct result of people turning away from Jesus’ sovereignty, and of people denying the authority of Jesus and the Church. So, this Reign of Christ Sunday is about reclaiming Jesus’ place of authority in our lives. But what does that mean for us?

I think it is a particularly interesting and challenging question in our American context. After all, as a nation, we rebelled against having a king. No longer wanting to be under the absolute authority of a monarchy but desiring instead to participate in a democracy was a primary component of our founding. We fought wars over it, this right not to be ruled by a king. Sure, maybe lately, with the stylish, young, and admirable William and Catherine marrying, and the birth of their children, people are suddenly a little more intrigued by the idea of royalty. But mostly, we seem, as a society, to be more into Disney princesses and their costumes than in submitting to the authority of a king.

Still, we all have to submit to forms of authority, right? Even if we don’t have a king, governments still exert authority over us. We pay taxes, right? We follow laws, or are punished or fined for our failure to follow. And we have authority figures in many other places too. We have bosses – or bishops! We have teachers and principals. We have parents and grandparents. All these people might be in positions of power over us, at least in some matters, able to tell us what to do. They have power. They have authority. We can push the boundaries of that authority – can and do. We can reject it, but usually not without major consequences. And we have presidents, don’t we? And other elected officials. Clearly, given the build up to and the aftermath from our election earlier this month, we pin a lot of hopes on the leaders of our nation. So when we talk about Jesus as a King, when we celebrate this day – what does that mean to us? How do we, independent people, private, prizing our individualism and autonomy, let someone be our king? What does that mean, exactly?

Let’s take a look at our text: Although next week we suddenly find ourselves thinking about the coming Christ child, a tiny baby at the center of everything, today we are inserted abruptly into the midst of the crucifixion scene. Our reading today takes us to Golgotha, which means “the place of the skull.” Here, in Luke's account, the actual process of crucifying Jesus merits just a passing phrase: "they crucified Jesus there with the criminals." But the details come from those who watch Jesus dying: the religious leaders, the soldiers, and the two criminals with whom he is crucified. From most, there’s a repeated refrain: Why doesn’t Jesus save himself? “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, the chosen one!” from the leaders. “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” from the soldiers. “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” from one of the criminals. Only from the other criminal do we hear anything different. He declares that the two criminals are only justly paying the price for their crimes but that Jesus "has done nothing wrong." He then asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom, and Jesus responds that truly that day the man will be with him in Paradise.

We have here a Jesus who seems most un-kingly. He's mocked, beaten, suffering, harassed, murdered. How is Jesus a King? The inscription that was placed above him – his sentence, the crime for which he was being crucified read, “This is the King of the Jews.” But it was meant as a mockery. A man being crucified with criminals was hardly a king. The sentence poked fun at Jesus, at his disciples and followers. But yet, we believe Jesus reigns. Why? How? How is Jesus king? I think it is about putting the emphasis in the right place. This Sunday is perhaps not about the fact that Jesus is King, but about the fact that Jesus is King. (1) This Sunday is not about the fact that one characteristic of Jesus is his Kingship, his divine royal status, one characteristic among many others. Instead, this Sunday celebrates the fact that it is Christ, Christ above all others, who is the highest authority in our lives. Not King Herod. Not Pilate. Not Caesar. And not President Obama or President-Elect Trump, nor Congress, nor the Supreme Court. Not the stock market. Not the dollar. Jesus is king.

So if we claim Jesus as our Ruler, what exactly does that mean? It means that we’re choosing a leader who rejects most everything one might traditionally associate with good leadership! David Lose writes, “Jesus, to put it [pointedly], would not have won last week’s election. But let me be clear: this is not a political statement as much as it is an existential one. We seek out those things and people who grant us a measure of security and who affirm our values. And, it turns out, when we are frightened or feeling particularly at risk or left behind, we may even accept someone who we profess decidedly does not reflect our values but who we believe will offer us security against our enemies abroad and prosperity at home. We vote for someone, that is, who promises a better tomorrow, and the candidates of both parties tried to offer themselves as the one who best fit that bill. Jesus doesn’t do that.”

We have a repeated phrase in our scripture passage today – Jesus, why don’t you save yourself? The religious leaders, the soldiers, the criminal – they all say it. Instead, Jesus saves us. We long to be safe and protected. Instead, Jesus demonstrates a risk-taking, vulnerable, literally life-giving way of being that saves us, all while refusing to save himself or promise us safety in exchange for our discipleship. Lose continues, “He refuses to come in power but instead appears in abject vulnerability … He does not come down off his cross to prove his kingly status but instead remains on that instrument of torture and humiliation, the representative of all who suffer unjustly. And he does not promise a better tomorrow but instead offers to redeem us today.” (2)

Claiming Jesus as our Ruler means aligning our values with his values, our priorities with his, our ways with his ways. Karoline Lewis writes, “First of all, in Jesus, we have a king who is crucified. Second, we have a king who forgives the very people who have secured his death. Third, we have a king who, while hanging on his cross, grants salvation to the criminal on the cross next to him … and fourth, we have a king who brings the condemned into Paradise with him rather than bring upon them further condemnation.” (3) Lose writes, “… While Jesus was not running for president, he does call leaders of all kinds – and, indeed, any who would call him “Lord” – to join God’s insistent, consistent, and persistent solidarity with the weak, the oppressed, and the forgotten of this world. In short, the church of Jesus Christ reveals itself as faithful to its Lord only in so far as it stands with those who are most vulnerable … God calls us not only to identify with the weak and dispossessed, but to lift our voices on their behalf, calling leaders to care for them as parents care for their children.” Is Jesus our Ruler? How are we working to make his ways our ways? How are we prioritizing the most vulnerable in the work of our church, the work of our community, the work of our lives?

Activist for the poor Shane Claiborne started a campaign during the 2008 election season, calling for “Jesus for President” as a way to call attention to God’s values, God’s call, God’s hope for our world. He wrote, “We may vote on [election day]. But we will also vote today, and tomorrow, and the next day. We are convinced that change is not confined to one day every four years. Change happens every day. We vote with our lives. And we are convinced that voting for a new President may be little more than damage control. For Presidents and Caesars do not save the world. But there is a God who can. Enough donkeys and elephants. Long live the Lamb.” (4)

Typically, the subjects of a king don’t get to decide whether or not they want to follow that person, have that person as their ruler. But God wants us to choose. God gives us the freedom to decide whether we will be disciples or not. But if we’re choosing Jesus, if it is Jesus who rules in our hearts and our lives, we should know who we’re voting for. Our leader is one who offers vulnerability and humility, not might makes right. Our leader is one who keeps company with the least and lost and last, rejecting offers of power and position and status. Our leader is one who will not save himself, but will instead offer his life for others, and ask us to do the same. Jesus is a Ruler like no other. Thanks be to God! Amen. 

Singing: Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. (488)

(1) Jenee Woodard, The Text This Week Weblog, http://textweek.blogs.com/textweek/

(2) David Lose, In the Meantime, http://www.davidlose.net/2016/11/christ-the-king-c-what-kind-of-king-do-you-want/

(3) Karoline Lewis, “Who and What Is Your King,” Dear Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4754

(4) Shane Claiborne, http://www.relevantmagazine.com/current/politics/jesus-president-2012#mZoCIKKzycee93Fl.99