Category: Sermon

The New Moses

On By J. Barrett LeeIn SermonLeave a comment

Whew!  Two sermons in one week!  Christmas is definitely a working holiday for me.  The text is Matthew 2:13-23.

Click here to listen to the podcast.

One of the singular (and often dreaded) features of the Christmas season is the plentitude of family reunions that take place.  The kids in every family prepare to have their hair tousled, their cheeks pinched, and great aunt so-and-so’s lipstick smudged on their foreheads.

For some strange reason, grown-ups have an irresistible urge to identify themselves (or their relatives) in the kids around them.  “Look at him,” they say, “Ain’t he a chip off the old block?”  Or “Oh my goodness, she’s just like her mother used to be!”  (To those of you who are kids: I would like to apologize on behalf of grown-ups everywhere.  We know it’s annoying.  We don’t know why we do it.  We just do it.)  There’s something inside of us that wants to connect the dots between the present and the past.

You and I are not the first people in history to connect those dots.  People have been doing it for thousands of years.  In fact, if you look at today’s gospel reading, you can see it happening with the baby Jesus himself!   Let’s check it out:

In the part of the story we read today, an evil king is killing all the baby boys in the land and one family has to do some very sneaky things in order to save the life of one very special baby.  Can you think of another time in the Bible when something like this was happening?

If you guessed ‘Moses’, you’re right!  In the book of Exodus, the Pharaoh of Egypt is scared that his Hebrew slaves are getting too difficult to control.  He feels like his power is being threatened by them.  So, he institutes a program of genocide, ordering that all the baby boys born to the Hebrew slaves should be killed.  But baby Moses’ family hides him in a basket of reeds in order to protect him.

In today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel, King Herod, another evil king, is scared because he has heard that a new ‘King of the Jews’ has been born in Bethlehem.  Herod liked his crown right where it was, so, in an effort to protect his power, he orders that all the baby boys in Bethlehem should be killed.  But baby Jesus’ family sneaks him out of town in the middle of the night in order to protect him.  Don’t these two stories sound similar?  The author of Matthew’s gospel did that on purpose.  You and I are supposed to notice that the story of Jesus sounds a lot like the story of Moses.

This kind of thing happens a lot in Matthew’s gospel.  We get lots of little hints that Jesus is like Moses.  For example, Jesus gets baptized in the Jordan River and then walks through the desert for forty days.  Doesn’t that sound a lot like the time when Moses led the Hebrews through the waters of the Red Sea and then wandered in the desert for forty years?  In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus walks up a mountain and starts to teach people about God in his (aptly titled) Sermon on the Mount.  Doesn’t that sound a lot like the time when Moses walked up Mount Sinai and came back with the Ten Commandments?  When we read Matthew’s gospel, we’re supposed to think, “Hey, this Jesus guy is a lot like Moses!”

Why is that important?  Well, first of all, it’s important to remember that Jesus and most of his early followers were Jewish.  Moses is a very important person to Jews.  He liberated their people from slavery and genocide in Egypt.  In the same way, the early Jewish Christians believed that Jesus had liberated them from slavery as well.  But this time, the threat wasn’t coming from some foreign Egyptian king.  This time, the threat was coming from within their own people.  Their own kings, like Herod, were starting to act as evil and nasty as old Pharaoh once did in Egypt.  Their culture was rotting from the inside out.  Even their spiritual and religious leaders couldn’t be trusted!  It was time for another Exodus!

The author of Matthew’s gospel intentionally portrays Jesus as the ‘New Moses’ because Jesus is the one who would liberate the people from slavery in their own homeland.

There’s another reason why the author of Matthew’s gospel compares Jesus to Moses.  As the New Moses, Jesus stands in continuity with his Jewish heritage.  This would have been very comforting to the early Jewish Christians.  It meant that Jesus honored the very best part of their tradition, even as he took it in a new direction.

Jesus challenged their ideas about inclusivity.  Traditional Jews thought of themselves as God’s unique and chosen people.  They alone, of all the nations of the earth, had received the Torah of Moses and the prophets.  But then Jesus comes along and says of a Roman Centurion (a pagan), “This Roman has more faith than any Jew I’ve ever met!”  The early Jewish Christians wrestled with statements like that.  Eventually, it led them to the conclusion that God was now accepting people of all races and nationalities as “chosen”, not just Jewish people.  They opened the doors of the Church to include the whole world in God’s embrace.  To traditional thinkers, that would have sounded like heresy.

Likewise, Jesus also challenged traditional ideas about sin.  For example, work was forbidden on the Sabbath day (including healing), but Jesus would heal people whenever he had the opportunity (even on the Sabbath).  Wasn’t that a sin?  Didn’t it go against the commandment to “Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy”?  Was Jesus asking them to sin against God?!  Jesus responded to questions like that by saying things like, “The Sabbath was made for people, not people for the Sabbath.”  Statements like this made Jesus’ Jewish followers very uncomfortable.  It helped them to know that Jesus honored the very best parts of their tradition, even as he challenged other parts and led their people in a new direction.

Today, I am introducing you to this idea of Jesus as the New Moses.  We’re going to come back to it a lot during the coming year as we read from Matthew’s gospel.  We’ll see again and again how Jesus is leading people out of an old (but familiar) slavery and into a new (yet challenging) Promised Land.  At the same time, he honors and stands in continuity with the very best their tradition has to offer.

Those of us who are part of the Church today are no different from those early followers of Jesus.

Like them, we wrestle with questions about inclusivity and traditional ideas about sin.  Who is “in” and who is “out” when it comes to church life and ministry?  Who is God calling us to embrace as our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ?  How can we be faithful Christians in this time and place?  How might faithfulness to God look different for us than it did for our ancestors in the faith?

All of these are questions of tradition and innovation.  Unfortunately, there are no easy answers to these questions.  Some say we should dig our heels in and defend traditional ideas and practices.   Others call for us to throw all traditional worship and doctrine to the wind in favor of innovation.  Somehow, I think both of these simplistic answers are deficient.  When I read Matthew’s gospel, I see Jesus honoring tradition, even as he challenges it.

As we face these questions together, let us remember that we are not the first ones to do so.  Christians in every age have had to wrestle with their own questions.  While it may seem sometimes like we are just wandering back and forth through a barren desert, we are ultimately following Jesus, our New Moses, who has promised to never abandon us, and he can be trusted to faithfully deliver us to the place where we are supposed to be.

On Angels

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Sermon1 Comment

Scene from 'Wings of Desire' (1987). Directed by Wim Wenders.

Here is my first Christmas Eve sermon at my new congregation in Boonville, NY.  The text is Luke 2:1-20.

Click here to listen to the podcast.

What is the first thing you say when you meet an angel?

(Screams loudly)

Most of us are used to what I call the “Hallmark” version of angels: chubby babies with little wings.  These “angels” can be found all over cartoons and greeting cards during this time of year.  Most people are probably also familiar with the lithe and glowing figures that float on clouds and play harps.  This is where we probably get our idea of the word “angelic” from.

But did you notice the first words out of the angel’s mouth in tonight’s gospel reading?  “Do not be afraid”!  In fact, this is the third time an angel shows up in Luke’s gospel and each time, the angel says to a human, “Do not be afraid”.  Why is that?

I think it would make more sense if we understood what an “angel” was to ancient Jews.  When angels appear in the Bible, they’re anything but cute.  In fact, they’re quite fearsome.  They’re described as huge creatures with multiple sets of wings.  They have faces like lions and eagles and oxen and humans.  Lightning flashes around them.  Sometimes they carry massive swords.  Some of them are on fire.  When you think about it like that, it’s easier to understand why the shepherds in tonight’s reading felt more than a little intimidated!

But these angels haven’t come to dole out wrath and judgment.  They have a message to deliver.  In fact, that’s what the word “angel” literally means: “Messenger”.  In verse 10, we read that this particular messenger has come to announce “good news of great joy for all the people”.  And, of course, the angel is talking about the birth of the baby Jesus, who, for Christians, is more than just our favorite philosopher/action hero.  For us, Jesus is “Immanuel”, which means, “God with us”.

Christians believe that God became present to us through Jesus in a unique way.  We don’t claim to know how this happened.  We can’t explain it logically.  All we can do is experience the mystery and try our best to share our experience with others.

That’s what faith is.  Faith is not a dogmatic arrogance that claims to have the answer to life, the universe, and everything.  Faith simply means keeping an open mind toward our experience of the mystery of God’s presence with us.  As a messenger, the angel in tonight’s reading is pointing the shepherds (and us) toward that mystery.

I can’t say that I’ve ever seen an actual angel for certain.  I’ve never seen those fearsome, flaming creatures lighting up the heavens with the brilliance of their song: “Gloria in excelsis Deo!  Glory to God in the highest!”  I believe they exist, but I’ve never seen one.  However, I have seen other “messengers” that point me toward the mystery of the divine presence in my life.

I think of creation itself as a kind of messenger (“angel”) that points us toward faith.  Over our heads every night is another kind of “heavenly host” (I’m thinking of the stars themselves).  If we listen with the ears of our hearts, we can hear their song just as clearly as the shepherds heard the angels’ song on the first Christmas Eve.  Psalm 19 tells us:

“The heavens are telling the glory of God;
and the firmament* proclaims his handiwork.
2 Day to day pours forth speech,
and night to night declares knowledge.
3 There is no speech, nor are there words;
their voice is not heard;
4 yet their voice* goes out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.”

One of the Jewish prophets tells us that, not only the stars, but the Earth itself sings a hymn of praise.  This prophet wrote, “the mountains and the hills… shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.”  When we look at the splendor of creation around us, we can choose to see it as a random collection of atoms and electrochemical reactions or we can choose to see it as the holy handiwork of a loving being who has given it depth and meaning.  Then, I think, we will begin to hear the song of the Earth and the cosmos, singing us back toward the divine mystery that we call God.

Another place where I sometimes think I see messengers (“angels”) is in the people I meet.  God seems to take special delight at getting humans involved in the process of making this world a better place.  I can’t even think of how many times, when I’ve felt down, some friend came along with a word or gesture of affection and support that gave me the strength to keep going through a difficult time.  That’s an experience that most of us have had at some point or another.  In that moment, I think those people can be messengers (“angels”) to us, pointing us back toward faith, hope, and love.  The author of the book of Hebrews in the New Testament  advises us, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

I remember one such encounter that happened when I was in college.  I was on my way to class one morning when I crossed paths with a young woman on the sidewalk.  We both looked up at the same time and I said, “Good morning”, intending to walk on.  But to my surprise, she stopped and began talking to me!  She told me all about how excited she was to get a letter from a child she sponsored in Latin America.  She was so nice, our short conversation made my day.  A little while later, I remembered that verse from Hebrews, “some have entertained angels without knowing it.”  I had never seen her around campus before.  Could that have been…?  Maybe!

As it turns out, I bumped into her again a few months later and we became friends.  Her name is Cathy and she is very much a human being.  However, our brief meeting on the sidewalk that morning left my mind just a little bit more open to the ways in which God might surprise me in the midst of my everyday life.  To this day, I jokingly refer to Cathy as my “guardian angel”.

As we gather together in this church tonight, we are celebrating the mystery of the divine presence in song, in story, and in candlelight.  These rituals are good because they can help us to sense the presence of this mystery in a concentrated form.  But the real power of Christmas lies in what we take with us into the rest of our year.  As you go out into this Christmas season, I want to invite you to keep an open mind about God.  Pay attention to the love of the people in your life and the beauty of the world around you.  Try to see these things as messengers, angels leading you to embrace the presence of that divine mystery in your life.  As you do so, I pray that you will be able to hear and join in the song of the angels, the saints, the heavens, and the earth: “Gloria in excelsis Deo!  Glory to God in the highest!”

What Does A Stable Smell Like?

On By J. Barrett LeeIn SermonLeave a comment

This week’s sermon from First Presbyterian Church of Boonville, NY.

The text is Matthew 1:18-25.

Click here to listen to the podcast.

If you were to ask the average person in the street what they think of Christianity, you’re likely to get a response that contains some combination of the words morals and values. Those who have a favorable opinion of Christianity might say something like, “More people should go to church, so they can learn positive morals and values.”  Others who are more hostile toward Christianity might say, “Who do those Christians think they are?  They shouldn’t impose their morals and values on everyone else!”

While these statements might seem to be polar opposites of one another, they proceed from a common assumption about who God is and what God wants.  They assume that God is primarily interested in creating a perfect moral universe where everyone acts as they should and everything works according to plan.

Christians, to be fair, have certainly done their part in perpetuating this idea of a “perfect moral universe”.  Theologians have called it “legalism”.  Historically speaking, the proceedings of the Salem Witch Trials remind us of legalistic Christianity at its worst.  More than two dozen people were wrongfully accused of practicing witchcraft and were executed by their neighbors in Massachusetts during the 17th century.

The legalistic spirit of this era was portrayed by the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne in his literary classic, The Scarlet Letter. In this story, the main character, Hester Prynne, mothers a child out of wedlock and is subsequently ostracized by her neighbors.  They force her to wear a scarlet letter ‘A’ at all times as a reminder of her transgression.  Meanwhile, the child’s father (who happens to be the local minister) secretly and slowly tortures himself to death as self-inflicted punishment for his sins.

Examples of legalism in the Christian church are unfortunately not confined to volumes of history and literature.  Even today, many Christians find themselves spiritually (and sometimes literally) homeless when they confess their inability to live up to the moral standards set by their church communities.  The unspoken message that people in our society tend to hear from Christians is that there is no place in our churches for unwed mothers, divorced couples, addicts, or anyone else who doesn’t conform to this image of moral perfection.

When we hear these personal stories of people exiled from their homes and churches, when we read novels like The Scarlet Letter or reflect on historical accounts like the Salem Witch Trials, I think we have to ask ourselves: Is this really what God wants from us as Christians?

It’s tempting to answer “yes”, especially at Christmas.  After all, isn’t Christmas the “most wonderful time of the year”?  Doesn’t everyone want things to be “just perfect” at Christmas?  But when we read the Christmas story as it appears in today’s gospel reading, we see a situation that is far from being “just perfect”.

Our scene opens with Mary, the mother of Jesus, finding out that she is pregnant out of wedlock.  Biblical scholars estimate that Mary is probably about thirteen years old at this point in the story.  So our story literally begins with an unwed teenage mother.  In our society, this state of affairs would certainly make her the subject of raised eyebrows and town gossip.  But in first century Galilee, the stakes were much higher.  She was engaged to Joseph, who was quite certain the child wasn’t his.  To be betrothed to one man in that society and having someone else’s baby was considered adultery.  Mary could face the death penalty for that!  The shame on her family’s honor would damage their standing in the community long after she was dead.  So, when we read that Joseph was “unwilling to expose [Mary] to public disgrace”, we have to understand that this meant more than public embarrassment.  Her life was on the line.

Joseph, it seemed, was caught in the middle of an impossible situation.  His fiancée had apparently betrayed him.  He was a good and faithful Jew who obeyed the Torah, but in this case, strict adherence to the Bible meant putting Mary to death.  Even in his sorrow and anger, he wasn’t willing to do that.  What was he supposed to do?  He decided that the best thing for everyone would be to call of their engagement quietly, in hopes that the real father would step forward and take responsibility.  In that scenario, Mary and her baby would at least have a chance at leading decent lives.  It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best he could do.

That night, during what I imagine must have been a fitful and restless sleep, Joseph had a dream.  In this dream, an angel stood before him and called out, “Joseph, son of David!”  This would have sounded odd to Joseph, because his father’s name was Jacob.  Sure, his family was related to the legendary King David, but one would have to go back centuries to trace that lineage.  Nevertheless, the angel calls him according to his royal heritage: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

“Wait a second,” Joseph must have thought, “now you’re telling me that God is responsible for this?  And all of this has something to do with royal blood in my distant family history?”

The angel in the dream continued, “She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

“Now, hold it right there,” Joseph thought, “Name him?  You want me to name him?!  That means I’m claiming him as my own!  I’m saying to the world, ‘Yup.  It was me.  I did it.  I’m the father.’  I’d be ruined for life over something that’s not even true!  Are you saying God wants me to lie?!”  If he were alive today, this is where Joseph would probably say, “I’ve really got to switch to decaf after 6pm!”

Remember that this was “just a dream”.  How many times have you and I dreamed about something that was going on in our lives and dismissed it as stress subconsciously working itself out?  It would have been very easy for Joseph to do the same.  Besides, what this “angel” was saying went against everything he believed about God, morality, and the Bible.

Yet, we Christians believe this is how God chose to enter into human history.  The author of Matthew’s gospel cites a prophecy from the book of Isaiah as if to say, “This was God’s plan all along!”  We often marvel at the humility of Christ, who was willing to become incarnate among working-class peasants in Galilee.  However, have we ever stopped to think about how scandalous this situation must have been for the people involved?  Jesus was not born into a morally perfect situation.

Most of us are familiar with the story of the first Christmas from paintings, films, and pageants (like the one our kids have prepared for us after church today).  We are familiar with idyllic images of the baby Jesus, lying on a soft bed of hay in the stable, surrounded by warm and soft light while angels and shepherds look down with love.  But let me ask you this: What does a stable smell like?  It’s not pretty!  It’s not even hygienic.  It’s messy, just like life.

When the eternal mystery of God took on flesh and became incarnate in our world, it happened in the messiest possible way.  God is not afraid of our mess.  God does not wait for us to get our morals and values in order.  God meets us right where we are.  Ironically, it is God’s acceptance of our moral imperfection that mysteriously gives us the power to live transformed lives.  The Apostle Paul said it like this in his letter to the Romans: “God’s kindness leads to repentance.”

The French novelist Victor Hugo wrote about this kind of transformation in his book, Les Misérables. In this story, an ex-convict named Jean Valjean stops for the night at a bishop’s residence.  At dinner, he remarks that, after a hot meal and a warm bed, he’ll “be a new man in the morning.”  During the night, Valjean gets up and robs the bishop of his best silver and takes off.  He is caught and arrested the next day.  The police take Valjean back to the bishop’s house for questioning.  When they arrive, the bishop lies and tells the police that he gave the silver to Valjean, who is then set free.  Before sending him on his way (with even more silver), the bishop says to Valjean, “With this silver, I’ve purchased your soul.  I’ve ransomed you from fear and hatred.  And now I give you back to God.”  The rest of Hugo’s novel tells the story of how Valjean’s life was changed forever by that radical act of graciousness.  The bishop met Jean Valjean in the midst of his messiness and moral imperfection.  So it is between God and us.

This is good news.  It changes the way we look into the mirror.  When God comes into our lives on Christmas (or any other day), God takes us as we are, with all our messiness and moral imperfections.  There is no longer any need for us to beat ourselves up for our sins or hide from the One who loved us before we were born.

This good news also changes the way we look at each other, especially when our neighbors are mired in scandal.  Maybe they are facing a tough legal battle, like Mary.  Maybe an entire family is facing public humiliation in the community, like Mary’s.  Maybe an unwed or teen mother is facing a difficult choice, just like Mary.  Do Christians in these situations cross their arms and shake their heads in silent judgment?

If we take the gospel seriously, we have to recognize that it was in the midst of a messy and morally questionable situation like this that God chose to enter into human history.  So, if we are looking for God in our lives today, it only makes sense to start looking in the same kinds of messy and morally questionable situations.

If we can find the faith to do that, then I truly believe that we, like Jean Valjean, will discover our lives being transformed by God’s grace.  With open minds and open hearts, we’ll take our place this Christmas in that smelly, messy stable alongside the shepherds with their sheep, the ass, and the angels, beholding the glory of God’s eternal mystery coming in to our lives once again.

O come, let us adore him!

Here is Your God

On By J. Barrett LeeIn SermonLeave a comment

This week’s sermon from First Presbyterian Church of Boonville, NY.  The text is Isaiah 35:1-10.

Click here to listen to the podcast.

We’re going to be talking about poetry today, so I’d like to begin with a short poem:

A young, psychic midget named Marge

went to jail on a most heinous charge.

But, despite lock and key,

the next day, she broke free,

and the headlines read: “Small Medium at Large”.

This poem is an example of a limerick: a short poem with a particular structure of rhyme and rhythm and a zinger or punchline that typically comes at the end.  This is a common feature in English poetry.

Hebrew poetry, on the other hand, is quite different.  Hebrew poems don’t much rely on rhyme or rhythm.  They depend instead on the way certain ideas or images go together.

Also, a Hebrew poem is kind of like an Oreo cookie: all the good stuff is in the middle.  There is often one central idea that gets flanked on either side by repeated secondary ideas.  Biblical scholars call this form a “chiasm” and it looks something like this: idea A, followed by idea B, followed by the central idea C.  Then the pattern reverses itself: idea B gets repeated, then, at the end, idea A gets repeated.  It has a kind of symmetrical structure: A-B-C-B-A.

Why are we talking so much about Hebrew poetry?  Because our Old Testament reading, from the book of the prophet Isaiah, takes the form of a poem.  Hebrew prophets, like Isaiah, often delivered their message through poetry.  I like to imagine them as folksingers like Woodie Guthrie or Bob Dylan, hitchhiking across the country singing “The Times Are A-Changin’”.  Verses 1-7 fit this pattern (this “chiastic” structure) perfectly.  Let’s take a look:

We’ll start with the central idea in the middle.  We’re twisting open the Oreo and licking the cream out, if you will.  The central idea in this poem comes in the second half of the fourth verse: “Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.”  In Hebrew, it literally says, “Behold!  Your God!”  If this were a circus magician’s act, this would be the point when the curtain flies open and the band goes, “TA-DA!!!”  This is the moment when God’s presence is revealed (made known) to the people.  “Here is your God.”

Now that God’s presence has been revealed (“Ta-da!”), the next thing we learn is what God intends to do now that God is here.  Isaiah uses the words “vengeance” and “terrible recompense” to describe God’s intentions.  These words probably make most mainline Christians squirm in their pews just a little.  Language about God’s “vengeance” is usually found on the lips of zealots and fanatics who use the name of God and the text of the Bible to justify their own apocalyptic agendas.  It might help to learn that these words have a much broader and deeper meaning in the Hebrew language.  When Isaiah talks about God’s “vengeance” and “terrible recompense”, he is referring to God’s intention to fix all that is wrong with the world and finally set things right, once and for all.  You and I are not alone when we feel sad or angry that all is not well in the world.  God sees it too.  God feels our pain.  And most of all, God intends to do something about it.

What, exactly, does God intend to do?  Isaiah tells us at the end of verse 4: God intends to “save” us.  “Salvation” is another word that has a much broader and deeper meaning than it is usually given in our culture.  In order to understand what Isaiah means by “salvation”, we’ll have to take a look at the other two sections of his poem.

In the verses immediately surrounding Isaiah’s central idea, the prophet develops the idea of “salvation” as he understands it.  The images he uses are primarily images of healing: “Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. 4Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear!’” (v.3-4a)  Later on he describes how “the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; 6then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.” (v.5-6a) Salvation, for Isaiah, is something very practical.  Nothing in this passage indicates that he might be talking about “pie in the sky when you die”.  No, salvation, as it appears in this text, has to do with the transformation of people’s lives in this world.

Isaiah continues to expand the concept of salvation in the next section of his poem.  God’s saving activity is not just limited to the lives of human beings in this world.  It includes the world itself.  All creation is invited to celebrate the blessing of God’s love: “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus 2it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God.” (v.1-2)  Later on the prophet describes how “waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; 7the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.” (v.6b-7)  Writing about the salvation of the natural world, Isaiah speaks in threes.  First, he describes the “before” image (i.e. the initial desolation of the land): “wilderness”, “dry land”, and “desert”.  Then he describes the “after” image (i.e. what the land will be like when God is finished): “Lebanon”, “Carmel”, and “Sharon”.  These three places were some of the most fertile lands around in the Ancient Near East.  To put it in terms of North American geography: Isaiah is effectively saying that the arid badlands of North Dakota will be as lush and fertile as the Everglades in southern Florida.

All of this is relevant because Jews in Isaiah’s time felt like they were living on a planet that was spinning wildly out of control.  They were threatened with invasion from without and corruption from within.  People grew more fearful and cynical with each passing day.  Isaiah was often critical of the society in which he lived.  His poetry could be quite harsh at times.  During his lifetime, his ministry met with only limited success.  Empires continued to rise and fall around him.  The moral fiber of the Jewish people continued its downward spiral into corruption and cynicism until they too were eventually conquered and dragged into exile by the Babylonians in the 6th century BC.  But, in spite of these facts, Isaiah refused to give in to anxiety or despair.  He held on tight to this vision of an all-inclusive salvation.  When God was finished, even the most barren corners of the earth would join in the celebration of life.

Isaiah placed no faith in the powers-that-be for the establishment of God’s paradise on earth.  God is the one who began the work of salvation on the earth and God is the one who can see it through to the end.  And there is nothing that power-hungry nations, corrupt leaders, cynical people, or even the powers of death and chaos themselves can do to thwart God’s presence and purposes in this world.

Isaiah’s message, while directed toward Jews in the 8th century BC, is still relevant for us today.  We too live on a planet that feels like it’s spinning out of control.  The forces of death and chaos threaten to overwhelm us in the midst of our daily lives.  In a deceitful effort to alleviate our fear, the culture around us capitalizes on our cynicism, tempting us to place our trust in political parties, nuclear arsenals, or the almighty dollar.

The crises of this world seem so great that we cannot hope to fix them all.  We cannot even solve the little problems that creep up in our own community, our families, or our individual lives.  What good is our little effort in the face of so much chaos?

By itself, our best effort is useless and meaningless.  Try as we might, we cannot “save” ourselves through political programs, business transactions, or religious institutions.  We are utterly dependent on the sovereign grace of God to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  God is working the miracle that we cannot.

We can put our hearts and minds at ease by embracing Isaiah’s vision of humanity and all creation transformed and renewed through the saving presence and power of God.  This vision can give us hope to carry on when it seems that all other hope is gone.  As Isaiah himself said, faith in this vision can “Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees”.  With this hope in mind, we can say to our fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear!”

Our little efforts to better our lives, our families, our community, and this world are part of God’s bigger project of salvation.  The entire process does not depend on us; it depends on God.  God has graciously invited us to play a small part in that salvation.  None of our kind words or good deeds are ever lost in the sight of God.  Each one has eternal value as part of God’s project for setting things right in this world.

When you feel tempted to despair in your struggle with sin, death, and chaos in this life, I invite you to do as Isaiah did: Turn your spiritual gaze inward and upward.  Meditate on the presence of God within you and around you.  Say to yourself, “Here is your God!”  Witness the creative and transforming power of the Holy Spirit at work in God’s creation.  Remember that God started this good work in you and will see it through to the end.  Rest in this truth and you shall, in the words of Isaiah, “obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

God’s Dream

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Sermon2 Comments

Here is this week’s sermon from First Presbyterian Church of Boonville, NY.

The text is Isaiah 2:1-5.

Click here to listen to the podcast.

This week, we begin our journey toward Christmas.  Decorations are going up at home and shopping has begun in stores.  As the music of Bing Crosby invades our radio waves, nostalgia mixes with anticipation and the smell of freshly-kindled wood stoves.  In church, candles are lit one by one and purple vestments are hung in honor of our coming king.  We call this season “Advent”.

Beyond the commercialized holiday bliss, there is another side to this season.  It is the time of year when the weather really starts to turn bitterly cold.  Here in Boonville, we’ve just had our first real snowfall.  The daylight hours are the shortest they will be all year and darkness seems to hover over everything.  Perhaps the early Christians chose to celebrate the birth of Christ at this time of year because they needed a pick-me-up?

In a spiritual sense, I tend to think of myself as being more of an Advent person than a Christmas person.  I spend most of my time in the cold and dark places of the soul, waiting for God to show up.  And when God finally does arrive, it almost never happens how I expected.

I feel this way, not only during Advent, but year-round.  This is why Advent (not Christmas) is my favorite time of the church year.  It describes my own spiritual journey so well.

I imagine that “dark” and “cold” is how many people must have felt during the lifetime of the prophet Isaiah, in the 8th century BC.  It was a time of extreme unrest and political upheaval.  The great Assyrian Empire lurked on the borders of the Holy Land.  Nations sought security in numbers, making alliances with each other or with the Assyrian superpower itself.  At home, rulers were becoming more and more corrupt, building their kingdoms on the backs of the poor and oppressed.  Rather than trusting in the mysterious and unseen God of Israel to deliver them, many people sought solace in the practices of magic and idol worship.  They felt safer putting their trust in gods that could be seen and controlled through arcane rituals, even if those rituals demanded the sacrifice of their own children.  These were dark and cold times indeed.

It was into this cold and dark environment that God first called Isaiah son of Amoz to speak.  Isaiah had a lot of harsh things to say about the culture in which he lived.  He criticized them for their hypocrisy and cynicism.  They pretended to be faithful and religious Jews while taking advantage of the poorest and most vulnerable members of society.

But Isaiah’s message wasn’t entirely negative: God also gave Isaiah a vision of the way his country could be.  This is the passage from which we read this morning.  In this passage Isaiah envisions his community of Jerusalem as an international center for education and spiritual renewal.  People would go there as soldiers and leave as farmers.  Death-dealing swords would be transformed into life-giving plows for the fields.  From there, the whole world would learn a new way of living and relating to one another that would transform the face of creation forever.

The people had a long way to go before this vision could become a reality, but Isaiah held onto it for dear life.  He believed that this dream would come true, not through human ingenuity or goodwill, but because God willed it, and nothing (not the hypocrisy and cynicism of the people, not the corruption of their leaders, not even the military might of the world’s greatest superpower) could prevent God’s dream from coming true.

Believing in God’s dream must have been a tall order in a time as cold and dark as Isaiah’s.  To this day, rather than being a center for peace and education, Jerusalem remains one of the most violence-ridden cities on the planet.  Almost 2,800 years later, our headlines mock Isaiah’s dream for Jerusalem as the fantasy of an idealistic fool.

Our time is no less dark and cold than Isaiah’s was.  News of international conflict continues to make us nervous.  People still grow cynical as they read headlines of corrupt politicians and hypocritical religious leaders.  While outright idol worship is not as common as it once was, we are still tempted to put our trust in objects of our own making, such as our investment portfolios, our insurance policies, our educational system, our nuclear arsenal, our political parties, or our religious institutions.  It’s comforting to trust in these things because we can see them and we think we can control them.  But the cold, dark fact of history is that none of these idols can provide us with the peace and security we seek.

The challenge of Advent is for us to look past these idols, these objects of our own making.  God is calling us to rise above our cynicism and hold onto hope: Hope that the cold and darkness will not have the last word in history; Hope that the way things could be is the way things will be; Hope that God’s dream will come true.

The dream did not come true in Isaiah’s lifetime, nor did it come true in the earthly lifetime of Jesus, nor will it probably come true in our lifetime, but rest assured: God’s dream will come true.  There have already been signs of this happening in history: wherever enemies make peace, wherever oppressed people go free, wherever healing triumphs over sickness, there we find a partial fulfillment of God’s dream and Isaiah’s vision.

God has graciously invited us to be a part of the fulfillment of this dream.  This should radically change the way we live our lives here and now.  Isaiah called the people of his community to live changed lives, saying, “O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

God may call some of us to be prophets, shaking the very foundations of idolatry and cynicism in our society.  I think of heroes like Martin Luther King, who dreamed God’s dream out loud.  Others of us will be called to “brighten the corner where we are”.  But let us not be deceived: our little acts of human compassion and forgiveness, no matter how small, have divine and eternal value because they are part of God’s great plan for this earth.  Every “thank you”, every “I’m sorry”, and every “I love you” spoken in word or deed is a ray of light that pierces the darkness of this cynical world.  Not one of these rays will ever be wasted or lost.  Do you believe this?

Advent does not prepare us for a nostalgic commemoration of a one-time event in history.  Advent propels us toward the revolutionary culmination of history in the fulfillment of God’s dream for this world.  O people of Boonville, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

 

Prayer Changes You

On By J. Barrett LeeIn SermonLeave a comment

I’ve been preaching in churches all over this Presbytery for about a year.  Ironically, one of the few churches where I haven’t preached is the one I’ve been attending for the last 4 years!  I was very glad to get to preach and lead worship for our friends at Westernville Presbyterian Church.

The text for this week is Luke 18:1-8.

Click here to listen to the podcast.

When Sarah and I were in seminary together in Vancouver, there was a certain professor with whom I had a troubled relationship.  I met this professor on my first day of classes.  Young and eager, I burst into his office after class and told him all my ambitions for getting a PhD and teaching in a university.  I was hoping to gain a personal connection with this professor.  What I wanted most of all was his affirmation and approval.

After listening to me pouring my heart out, he asked what my undergraduate GPA had been.  When I told him, he shook his head and told me that it really should have been a full point higher.  In the future, he said, the college would raise its admission standards so that students like me wouldn’t be allowed in.

To be sure, my professor’s response was a bit rude.  But, to be fair to him, I had just barged into his office with a heart full of unrealistic personal expectations for this academic professional.

I was devastated, but also determined.  I put on my best “I’ll show him” attitude and hunkered down into seminary life.  I told myself I would force this professor to give me an ‘A’.  So I spoke out in class whenever I had something to say.  I submitted papers and articles for his feedback.  I showed up in his office whenever I could think of an excuse.  But the harder I fought for his approval, the more frustrated I became.

The widow in Jesus’ parable knew a thing or two about frustration as well.  Jesus didn’t tell us the specifics of the case she was pleading before the judge.  All we know about her is that she was desperate for justice.  As a widow with no apparent son, she would have been one of the most vulnerable and disenfranchised people in her society.  Some scholars think that the Hebrew word for ‘Widow’ (Almanah) is actually derived from the word for ‘Silence’ (Alam).  A widow, in that society, was (literally) a person without a voice.  She had no legal recourse for pursuing justice.  Her persistence in nagging the judge was her only weapon in this case.

As for the judge himself, we learn quickly that he is not someone to be liked or trusted.  Jesus said that he “neither feared God nor had respect for people”.  This particular phrase was often used in that time to describe individuals who were both corrupt and powerful.  He was above the law because, in the eyes of his society, he was the law.  There was no real reason why that judge should listen to this widow.  But we know that she prevailed on him in the end.  This widow’s obnoxious persistence drove the judge to the point of insanity.  In the end, he relented, saying, “I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out”.  In Greek, the phrase here can be literally translated, “so that she may not give me a black eye”.  As calloused and powerful as he was, this judge was beginning to feel beat up and worn down by a poor, defenseless widow!

Jesus teaches his followers that God is like this judge, only better.  He showed that even the corrupt and calloused powers-that-be can be swayed by the persistent badgering.  How much more quickly will God, the author of justice, be persuaded to act on behalf of the poor and oppressed?

This was an open question in the ancient world.  How long would God wait before helping the chosen people?  The book of Psalms is littered with cries for justice and deliverance.  Throwing a fist in the air, the Psalmist bellows, “How long, O Lord?”  The Jewish people were very familiar with the Passover story in the book of Exodus.  Every year they celebrated the liberation of their ancestors from slavery and oppression in Egypt.  Yet, this annual celebration led to a difficult question: “If God did so much for our ancestors in the Bible, why doesn’t God do something for us now?”  It was all too easy to lose faith in this mysterious and unseen God of Israel.  We read that many of the ancient Hebrews turned away from their God in favor of other deities whose idols could be seen with one’s eyes.  These lesser gods could be understood and controlled through an elaborate (and brutal) system of human sacrifices.

We, in our society, are no less interested in forces that can be understood and controlled.  We, in the postmodern world, are obsessed with quantifiable results.  We desire measurable efficiency in everything from the performance of our cars to the performance of our politicians.  We are trained to ask the question, “Does it work?”  We even ask this question of our spiritual practices.  When it comes to prayer, the number one excuse people give for not praying is, “It doesn’t work.”  So Jesus’ question, “Will not God grant justice to the chosen ones who cry out day and night?” is an open question for us as well.

Jesus answers this question in verse 8: “I tell you, God will quickly grant justice to them.”  Jesus affirms the power of prayer to make a difference in this world, but then he turns the question back around and directs it at us, “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”  The question is no longer about the power of prayer; instead the question is about us.

I think Jesus is correcting a deep misconception about the purpose of prayer.  In our results-oriented society, we are obsessed with the question, “Does it work?”  The value of prayer is to be measured only in terms of the practical results it produces in our lives.  Was the sick person healed?  Did the check arrive in time?  Were the fighting parties reconciled?  Did that person find peace before the end?  Jesus affirms the power of prayer to make a difference in these areas, but he also invites us to take a look at the deeper importance of prayer.  Before prayer changes the world, prayer changes us.  This is the standard by which Jesus measures the effectiveness of prayer.  Any sorcerer can give you a magic spell to change your situation for the better, but only God can change your heart for the better.  Prayer changes you before it changes the world.

In my frustration with my seminary professor, God taught me a lesson about having a changed heart.  As I said before, I tried like crazy to get this professor to notice me, but nothing seemed to work.  In time, my frustration gave way to hatred.  My friends learned to not mention his name in my presence because of the unkind things I would say about him.  You could say that I was in desperate need of a “heart transplant”.  I prayed for him.  I prayed that God would forgive him for the pain he caused me.  I prayed that God would help me forgive him.

The answer to those prayers came late one night as I stood on the balcony of my apartment.  This professor was on my mind and I prayed once again that God would help me forgive him.  Then, a thought occurred to me that made me stop in my tracks.  I didn’t need to forgive this professor for his rude comments to me.  I needed to ask forgiveness for the bitterness that was consuming my soul from the inside out.  Looking back, I think that was the Holy Spirit speaking to me and telling me what I needed to do in order to find peace.

Later that week, I went back to my professor’s office.  This time, I sat before him, not as an ambitious young graduate student, but as a broken brother in Christ.  I told him about the bitterness I harbored in my heart.  I apologized for having such unrealistic expectations about him.  I confessed my sin of hatred to the person I hated.

His response surprised me.  I had come to think of him as a cold-hearted snake who didn’t care about anyone but himself.  In that moment, I found him to be a warm and gracious person who accepted my apology and then prayed for me, right there in his office.  In his prayer for me, he expressed his admiration for my commitment to always do the right thing.  It was in my moment of greatest weakness that I finally found the personal connection and affirmation that I so longed for from this man.

I never did get that PhD (although I did end up teaching college).  Was my prayer answered in the end?  I think so.  Not because my desires were fulfilled, but because God used that situation to transform me into a new kind of person.

As you look at your life this morning, how have your prayers changed you?  Can you think of a time in your life when the power of prayer didn’t just transform your circumstances, but transformed you into a new kind of person?  If so, that’s great!  It means you’re on the right track.  If you can’t think of an example from your life, take some time this week to think about what it is that you’re praying for.  As you ask God to change your situation, take an extra second to ask how God wants you to change in the midst of this situation.  If you don’t pray at all, why not give it a try this week?  You might be surprised at the way it transforms the world around you.  You might be even more surprised at the way it changes you.