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1/28/2019

January 27, 2019
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell

Luke 4:14-21

Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

As some of you know, I was raised as an evangelical.  And there were many wonderful things about that tradition that formed and continue to form my faith and ministry.  For example, I was taught a great respect for the Bible, and learned its stories and its teachings from a very early age.  And I learned a deep love for Jesus Christ, and a firm belief that he is, indeed, Lord of All.

I carried that evangelical label for a long time, even when my own life led me in a different direction.  But somewhere along the line, my comfort-level with the label began to change - because the church of my childhood began to change.  It seemed to get lost in the pursuit of political power. Something called the Culture Wars erupted and evangelical religion was right in the center of it.  And the basic message of Jesus – to love God and to love your neighbor as yourself – seemed to me to be eclipsed by the pursuit of power.  And to this day, I mourn that loss.

Truth is, I mourn a lot of things about the church – conservative and progressive.  I mourn that the church is so divided, just like our country.  I mourn that so many churches are closing, and so many more will. Experts tell us that 85% of American congregations are in decline.  I mourn the church’s diminished influence for society’s good.  I mourn the fact that the church has become a subject of derision, the punchline of a million bad jokes.  I mourn that we often brought that on ourselves.  I mourn that so many young people feel no connection to the church at all.  And I wonder, what will become of us?  And I wonder, how on earth did we get here?

I had an associate minister in my last parish who once told me that my problem was that I still believed in the church. He, on the other hand, claimed that he didn’t.  His faith was in God alone, he said.  But he had no hope that the church would ever fulfill its calling.  But I do. I guess I’m a dreamer.  But then again, so was Jesus.

And what was his dream? Well, he laid it out in the very first sermon that he ever preached.  Jesus had gone back to his hometown of Nazareth.  At that time, Nazareth was a village of several hundred, many of them relatives of Jesus.  So there he was, amongst his siblings and cousins, their spouses and children and in-laws.

It was the custom of the day that any male might be handed a Torah scroll to read a passage and then to make some comments about it.  On this day, the attendant handed the scroll to Jesus, maybe because he was home visiting. Jesus stood up to read, as was the custom.   Then Jesus sat down to teach, as was the custom.  These physical movements made a clear delineation between the words of Scripture and the words of commentary or sermon.

Jesus’s sermon that day was exceedingly short. He simply read the passage from Isaiah and then said: “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Well you could have heard a pin drop because the people understood this passage to be about the Messiah, the promised Savior. But Jesus certainly couldn’t be that, could he?  And so they began to whisper: “We’ve known him since he was a boy.  We know his family.  We know that crazy story about how he was conceived.  He always was a little strange.  Just who does he think he is?”

Who indeed?  In this short sermon, Jesus makes quite a claim about who he is.  And as shocking as this claim was, it’s even more shocking when you dig a little bit.  It’s shocking because of what Jesus read from the scroll of Isaiah.  And it’s shocking because of what Jesus did notread from the scroll of Isaiah.

So let’s look first at what he read: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

Now, this was a passage that everyone in the synagogue would have known because it was an essential part of their national narrative.  Its original context was the Babylonian exile – that awful time in the past when the people of God had lost a war with Babylon, and the best and the brightest had been carted off to live in a foreign land.  The Holy City had been destroyed, and with it, their sense of identity.  This passage, then, was a bright promise of restoration and a return home.

Biblical scholars say that in this inaugural address, Jesus actually laid out his vision for everything else he ever did – from his teaching, to his miracles, to his great compassion.  And in saying: “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” Jesus claimed that the work of God continues in every age. God’s people are called to the holy work of good news, release, recovery, freedom, and favor every day.

Now, what Jesus didn’t read.  The attendant handed Jesus the scroll with the passage to be read already marked.  But Jesus made an incredibly bold editorial choice right on the spot.  Remember that the original context was the bitter captivity of Babylon.  And after that kind of humiliation, the people wanted to see their enemies punished. This passage concludes with a prayer for “the day of vengeance of our God.”  But Jesus did not read that part.

Renowned biblical scholar “N.T. Wright suggests that this omission (therefore) would have offended those first-century Jews who understandably hungered for God's vengeance on all of their enemies..." Don’t we all.  But set a different course for his own ministry, and thus for the ministry of his church – for the ministry of this church.

And that brings me back to my original quandary: how did so many of us Christians get so lost on the way?  How did we come to understand our faith primarily as power and control and political will and even vengeance?  How did we forget the basics of humility and service and forgiveness and compassion and justice?

I have stood in this pulpit for one year and one week.  And during this time, I have observed your faithfulness, your diligence, your love, and your commitment to welcome all in Christ.  What a wonderful congregation this is.  - But I have also observed your struggles with some basic questions like: what is our mission?  What is our purpose?  Why are we still here? How do we stay here?

Friends, these are frightening times for the American church. And so we reach for solutions we know. Our go-to model has been the American business model.  It is for most churches.  We see the statistics and trends and ask, “How are we doing as a church?” which really means how are we doing in terms of membership and attendance and giving.  We talk about market share and demographics. We think about branding and promotions. I think about those things all the time. But maybe the more pressing question is: how is our soul?  How is our commitment to the Gospel?

Immediately after this service we will gather in the Parish Hall for our Annual Meeting.  And we will primarily use a business model to discuss where we are and how we’re doing.  And that’s OK.  But I think we can go a step further as we reflect on Jesus’s first sermon.  Instead of simply talking about the budget and how much we are allotting for this or for that, what if we also asked: how does our budget and its priorities actually bring good news to poor people?  How does my pledge; how does your pledge proclaim release to those who are captive to addictions and depression and hopelessness?  How does the work of our boards and committees light up the dark places in this town and the towns around us?  How do our programs relieve oppression – not teach us about oppression, but actually relieve it? How do we use this beautiful building and our beautiful Green to make it clear that 2019 is the year of the Lord’s favor?  And how do we do that without grasping for power and control?

Jesus took the scroll, stood, and read: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

And now he hands the scroll to us. What will we say?

[1]http://www.ucc.org/worship_samuel_sermon_seeds_january_27_2019

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SHOWERS OF BLESSINGS!

1/13/2019

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The Baptism of Christ Sunday
January 13, 2019

© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Congregationalism is a religion of the people.  The people run the church.  The people raise the budget and decide how it is spent. The people vote on important issues like purchasing property and calling a minister.  And because this is a church of the people, it’s in our DNA to think of ourselves as a community of equals. And so we are – kind of.  Even in our religion of the people, some things are reserved solely for the clergy. There are certain priestly functions that only the ordained can do.  According to the faith and order of the United Church of Christ, of which we are a proud part, only ordained ministers can bless the bread and cup for a service of Holy Communion.  And only ordained ministers are authorized to baptize people into the household of God.

These two acts - baptism and communion – we call sacraments.  And while our Catholics sisters and brother have seven of these sacraments, we Protestants only have these two.  There are lots of historical reasons for that, but primary among them is the both of these acts can be tied back directly to the life of Jesus Christ. Baptism and Communion are both things that Jesus himself did.  And because Jesus did them, and because we are disciples of Jesus, these things are holy, set-apart, sacred.

Today is set-aside in the liturgical calendar as the Baptism of Christ Sunday.  And that information is usually met with one of two responses.  The first one is: “Who cares?”  What on earth does the baptism of Jesus have to do with life in 2019. For second response to the baptism of Jesus is: “uh oh.”  Why “uh oh?” Well, think about it.  What have we been taught about baptism?  Isn’t it about sin and redemption?  Aren’t there notions of being washed clean?  Isn’t there something in there about that perplexing idea of original sin?  But the Scripture says that Christ was without sin.   So, what on earth was he doing in the muddy Jordan that day?

To make things more complicated, Jesus was baptized by his cousin John.  And in the ancient world, to be baptized by someone meant to submit to their authority; to be their disciple.  But the New Testament is rather clear that Jesus Christ is Lord of all, including John the Baptist.

And the Gospel of Luke presents a third rather embarrassing problem with the Baptism of Jesus.  Luke claims that when Jesus was baptized, John was already in prison awaiting execution. That’s embarrassing.  So which was it: John was in prison or John baptized Jesus?

So to celebrate the Baptism of Christ is complicated.  And these contradictions make us nervous.  But I think we’re nervous because we’re trying to make Scripture fit into neat theological equations.  We already know what we believe and we don’t want the Bible to get in the way.  And so we push and shove these stories through the pigeonholes of doctrine and church history, trying to tie up all the loose ends.  But it has been my experience that grace – sometimes amazing grace - is often found in the questions and contradictions and loose ends.

John the Baptist was preaching repentance out on the banks of the Jordan River.  To repent simply means to turn and walk in a new direction.  And who doesn’t need to do that?  It was a popular message and people thronged the banks of the Jordan. One day, Jesus happened along and decided that he should be baptized too.  And John saw the contradictions and protested.  But Jesus was undeterred and John finally relented.  When Christ came up out of the water, the spirit of God came down like a dove, and a voice announced: "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

In Luke, this story is told simply – he gives it all of half a sentence.  And notice what is not present in this story or in any of the other Gospel’s accounts. There is no talk of original sin being washed away; no ordained priest or pastor there to administer the sacrament; no holy water; no sacred space; no special clothing: just some people down by a riverside, under an open sky, wanting a new life; and longing to know that they mattered.  And there was Jesus among them, using what was there - common water - to help remember what is true.

To remember what is true – we all need that.  And so, we take pictures to capture a beautiful moment. We keep journals to remember beautiful thoughts.  We hug our friends and lovers to remember their bodies.  These are outward and visible symbols of an inwards and spiritual grace – sacraments if you will.

Once a month, we gather around this table to eat bread and drink cup in order to recall, with our bodies, the Last Supper of Jesus.  There is something holy about the physicality of it. But the challenge of baptism is that most of us have absolutely no memory of it.  We don’t recreate it with our bodies.  And that, it seems to me, is to our detriment.

The great Protestant reformer Martin Luther needed reminders of his baptism.  Like so many other great spiritual leaders, Luther was constantly plagued doubt and despair. To drive back those demons, he kept an inscription over his desk that simply read, "Remember, you have been baptized."  And when that inscription alone was not enough, he would touch his own forehead and say out loud: "Martin, you have been baptized."

My mentor in ministry, the Rev. George Bailey, had his own way to remember his baptism.  George was a character; a fresh and original thinker, very often misunderstood. But what he was was a mystic.   I will never forget his sermon in which he encouraged us to use our morning showers as a way to celebrate and remember our baptisms.  “That’s what I do,” he said.  Each day as the waters poured down on his head and body; George Bailey remembered that grace and love and mercy were poured out upon him day after day after day. And then he stunned us all into silence when he declared, in no uncertain terms, that his morning shower wasa sacrament - an outward and physical reminder of an inward and spiritual reality.

The physical world connects with the spiritual world.  And once you understand that, then the simplest gifts of life aremeans of grace.  And could it be that that was why Jesus was baptized?  Do you think it’s possible that before he began his three intensive and difficult years of ministry that he wanted to feel, on his own skin, the abundant grace and love of God?

At the conclusion of this sermon, and as the choir sings, Alison and I invite any of you who so desire to come forward and remember your baptism.  We will stand at the head of these two aisle.  You will receive some simple water on your forehead, and when you do, we will say: “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”

These waters are not magic, but they are powerful.  They are powerful because they help us remember, with our bodies, those things thing we long to be true but often forget: that the grace of God is deeper than the oceans; that the love of God is an ever-flowing river; that the forgiveness of God washes us clean and gives us a fresh start – not just today, but every day.

Amen.

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STARGAZERS

1/6/2019

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Sunday, January 6, 2019, Epiphany
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell

Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

One summer evening, long, long ago, I stood with my grandmother out in her backyard.  Twilight had descended and the first faint twinkle of the North Star could be seen.  She pointed it out to me and then taught me this: “Star light, star bright, first star I’ve seen tonight.  I wish I may, I wish I might, get the wish I wish tonight.” And then she told me that I should always wish upon a star because some of those wishes would come true.  And she was right.

I’ve always been drawn to the night sky.  I think most of us are.  We lift our heads and stare into the vast expanse, and wonder who we are and who God is, and what life is about.  That makes stargazing an act of praise as old as the human race.

But it used to be a lot easier than it is now. Some years ago, I read a fascinating article in the New Yorker about light pollution and how it prevents us from seeing the night sky the way that all of our ancestors did. The article pointed out that most of us have never really seen the full glory of the heavens, even when we’re out in the country.  There’s simply too much artificial light.  And so, the American entrepreneurial spirit being what it is, something called astrotourism has arisen.  And for a fee, these tour companies will take you far out into a deserted place where you will see what our ancestors saw for free.

Today is all about a star.  It’s the Feast of the Epiphany, the last day of the twelve days of Christmas.  It’s a day when our attention turns to the heavens, and in particular to that one star so ensconced in our collective Christmas consciousness that we cannot think of Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus without it. Today we remember those mysterious Wise Men who looked for Christ led only by a brilliant star and their astrological calculations.

Scholars debate what it is they actually saw.  Was it an alignment of the planets?  Was it a comet?  Was it a supernova?  Some people doubt the veracity of the whole tale, noting that in the folklore of many ancient cultures, a star heralded the birth of a great person or a god. Perhaps, they say, St. Matthew used this common belief simply as a literary device in order to signal his readers that the birth of Jesus was something truly extraordinary.

I find all of this very interesting, but I’m not sure we’re supposed to get lost in speculations about what the Wise Ones actually saw, if anything. It seems to me that our attention attention is better spent on the human characters in this tale.  I’m more interested in the Wise Ones themselves, because, like in so many of the Bible’s stories, they are actually us.

So, who were these Magi?  Well, that too is up for debate, but one thing is clear: they fit the uncomfortable pattern of so many other biblical characters.  They were outsiders, unlikely heroes, not the first persons you would think of to go looking for the Lord.  Scholars suggest that they may have been magicians or astronomers or astrologers or pseudo-scientists or fortune-tellers or horoscope fanatics.  But by any decent religious standard of their day or ours, they were heretics. In addition, they were the wrong race, and they came from the wrong part of the world, the East – a place where the enemies of Israel often came from.  So, their placement as heroes of this tale is noteworthy.  They had lots of things against them, but this one necessary thing for them: they were curious.

So believing that they had seen a sign in the heavens, they set out on their journey.  And like other starry-eyed dreamers, they encountered plenty of opposition along the way. Upon arriving in Jerusalem, they met a king named Herod, whom they thought could help them find this Child-King. But Herod was a despicable man known for his cruelty.  He murdered his wife, his three sons, his mother-in-law, his brother-in-law, his uncle, and assorted others.  And because his ego was so fragile and he was easily threatened, once he heard that a new king had been born, he decided to murder him as well. But the Magi, feeling uneasy, never told the king where Jesus was.

Backed into a corner, Herod did what any despot would do: he punished everyone. He ordered the murder of all the baby boys under the age of 2 who lived in and around Bethlehem.  We call this horror “the slaughter of the innocents.” And the only reason that Jesus survived was that his desperate parents escaped across a border into Egypt – the Holy Family, refugees running for their lives.

These unlikely characters are heroes of the Gospel, for all kinds of reasons. But mostly, they are heroes because they followed the light of God wherever it took them. They are heroes who threw caution to the wind in order to find the truth.  They are heroes because, in this search for truth, they thwarted the desires of the wicked who seek to obscure the light.

The magi are long gone – but their spirit is still alive in any of us who search for the light, who believe in the promise, despite all the evidence to the contrary.   We know what they world is like, yet here we are singing and praying and hoping and working for this luminous idea called the Kingdom of God. We live in a world of drones and suicide bombers and terrorists, yet we work for and look for and expect the arrival of the Empire of Shalom.  We gaze at the stars and dream of a world where children are not gunned down in school, and women are believed, and greed doesn’t melt the polar icecaps.  All of this seems foolishness to those who have no hope.  But we have seen a star.

Eventually, the Wise Men turned around and went home.  The star faded from the sky.  The Epiphany had passed. But here’s the thing: the Wise Ones still had each other.  They still had their shared experience.  They still had a common story.  And whenever doubt and fear came to call, they could sit around a fire and reminisce about that Star and that incredible journey and that dazzling Child, whose face they never forgot.

And imagining them reminiscing together, makes e think of all of you. The truth is, you aren’t just my job. I actually need you because I cannot do this Christian thing on my own.  I cannot, on my own, look at this world and still believe in the coming Reign of Peace.  But withyou, I can sing.  And with you, I can tell stories.  With you I can remember all that is beautiful and hopeful.

We have each other.  And we have a Star.

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