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MAKING MERRY

1/19/2025

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​Sunday, January 19, 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
 
John 2:1-11
 
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
 
I grew up in a very dry household.  But not all my relatives were abstainers.  This created a certain tension in the family, that sometimes bubbled over into conflict. 
 
Like the day when I was 10 years old, and my grandmother drove me to my aunt and uncle’s house while they were at work.  Her express purpose that day was to rid their home of all alcohol.   And so, without a moment’s hesitation, my grandmother poured over 20 bottles of wine and spirits down the drain.  And then she carefully rinsed all those bottles and lined them up on the counter, with a prominent note, taking full responsibility for what she had done.  You can imagine the reaction.  But until the day she died, my grandmother believed she had done her son and daughter-in-law a great favor. 
 
Now lest you think that my grandmother’s actions were just some fundamentalist obsession, I remind you that the 19th century temperance movement in America had a very strong ally in the Congregational churches.  For us, it was a social justice issue.   The reformers of the day looked at the conditions of women and children, often abused and neglected by drunken husbands and fathers, and decided that the demon rum had to go.  
 
They would quote bible verses like Ephesians 5:18: “Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit…”  But here’s the thing: for every verse like that one, there are three more about wine as a source of joy and gladness.  In Scripture, wine is often a metaphor for the blessings of God and for the new life we are given in Jesus Christ.  And then there’s this: our Lord’s public ministry began with a veritable baptism in wine!  
 
Jesus and Mary and the disciples had been invited to a wedding in Cana of Galilee, about 9 miles northwest of their home in Nazareth.  We don’t know any of the particulars of who was getting married that day and why Jesus and company were invited.  But we do know something about weddings in first century Palestine.  
 
First of all, unlike today’s affairs, in which guest lists are endlessly fretted over, in Jesus’ day there was no guest list because the whole village was invited.  No one was excluded.  And because no one was excluded, people you didn’t like would be there.  And that’s why wedding feasts were seen as prime time to make peace with your enemies.  No doubt the wine helped.
 
Additionally, these wedding celebrations went on for days to the delight of all who attended them.  You see, people in the first century worked very hard and died very young and sometimes were very hungry.  So, when they had a chance to celebrate with plenty of good food and wine, it was a respite from their daily lives.  
 
But at this particular wedding, disaster struck.  The wine ran out.  This was a huge embarrassment to the hosts, a bad omen for the couple, and spelled the end of the party for everyone else.  And so, Blessed Mary intervened.  She leaned over to her son and in a tense whisper said: “The wine has run out.”
 
But the response she got from Jesus seems a little cheeky to me: “Woman, what is that to you and to me?  My hour has not come.”  The implication is that Jesus had a carefully laid ministry plan, and supplying hooch to a wedding was not part of it.  But his mother was undeterred.  She ignored his protests and said to the servants: “Just do whatever he tells you.”
 
In the house there were six stone water jars – huge things that held 20-30 gallons each.  They were used for the customary Jewish ritual of purification.  Jesus told the servants to be sure that each one was filled right up to the brim. And then he said: “Now, take some of this to the chief steward and ask him to taste it.”  When the steward took a sip, he dashed off to find the groom.  “Sir,” he said, “I just don’t get it.  Most people serve the very best wine first, and put out the cheap stuff when everyone is drunk.  But not you!  You saved the best for last!”
 
And John concludes the story like this: “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.”
 
Isn’t that wonderful?  The very first sign, the first miracle that Jesus ever did was to make people merry; to bring joy and gladness to everyday folks.  And if that was his first sign, then what might that say about the mission of his Body, the church?  
 
Making people merry…  Do you imagine that that the first thing that comes to people’s minds when they hear the word “church?”  Or do they think of words like “guilt” or “obligation” or “irrelevant” or “boring?”
 
University of Chicago theologian Robert Hotchkins argues that making merry is a primary mission of the church.  “Christians ought to be celebrating constantly.  We ought to be preoccupied with parties, banquets, feasts, and merriment.  We ought to give ourselves to veritable orgies of joy because we have been liberated from the fear of life and the fear of death.”[1]
 
So, how do we do that?  Well, I think a good place to start is with this story. 
 
The most obvious take-away for the church is that the whole village was invited to the wedding.  There were no exclusions, spoken or unspoken.  That meant that the grumpy old man and the village prostitute and the tax collector and the pious and the skeptics and the foreigners were all on the guest list; all at the table together.  
 
In this world of increasing tribalism and divisions and anger and scapegoating, that is still a very powerful message.  The church is that one place where the unity and equality of the whole human family are proclaimed without equivocation.  This particular congregation has made a covenant - the highest of all agreements - to explicitly welcome all.  Being Open and Affirming is nice thing to say about ourselves, but it’s up to us to put flesh and bone to it every day. 
 
Second, the wedding banquet was a place for enemies to put aside their differences and to make peace.  And so is the church.  The church is that place where we purposefully leave our animosity at the door.  We leave our loud opinions at home.  And we practice listening to the stories of those who do not see the world like we do.  And we are not afraid of honest conversations.  And we sing together and pray together and we drink from the same cup together.  And we do all of this with people so different from us that, if we do it right, the rest of the world will think we’re crazy. 
 
Finally, church is where we practice radical abundance and generosity.  When Jesus made the wine, there was no scarcity.  Do you honestly think that wine ever gave out for the rest of the party?  And it was the very best.  But these qualities are not dominant in our world.  Instead, what we hear again and again and again is that the wine will run out; that the wone has already run out, that we must fearfully protect what it ours.
 
But that is a lie.  Because when Jesus makes the wine of gladness, and the wine of love, and the wine of peace, and the wine of forgiveness, and the wine of humility - the more you drink it, the more you have.  
 
And if that doesn’t make us merry, nothing will.
 
 
 
 
 


[1] Robert M. Brearley, “John 2:1-11, Pastoral Perspective.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 260.

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BAPTIZED IN LOVE

1/12/2025

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Sunday, January 12, 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
 
 
Matthew 3:13-17
 
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
 
 
It was 1968.  I wore a pair of gold trousers, a white turtleneck, and some matching gold socks.  Very sharp.  I stood in the wings watching my father as he waded into a deep pool of water.  He turned and spoke to the congregation.  Then he looked at me and invited me to join him in the warm pool.  But I was afraid.  Even though I walked on my tiptoes, the water still came right up to the bottom of my nose.  My dad reached out his hand and drew me close, literally pulling me through the water.  Then he said some words about baptism and how I had decided (at the ripe old age of seven) to follow Jesus for myself.  Then my dad instructed me to cover my mouth and plug my nose with one hand, and then to grab my wrist with the other (like this).  With one of his hands, he also grabbed my wrist.  And with the other, he supported the back of my head.   Then he said something like this: “Upon your profession of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and in obedience to his divine command, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
 
The next thing I knew, I lost all sense of control as my feet went out from under me and I was plunged backwards into the deep water.  And then as quickly as he had immersed me, my dad lifted me back out of the water, as the congregation rejoiced.  
 
Mine was a baptism based on a personal decision.  And it was baptism by full immersion.  Theologians call this Believers Baptism, a reference to the fact that you need to be able to believe before you are baptized.  And there is a whole school of theology about why this is the “right” kind of baptism.  And, like all theology, it grows out of a particular reading of the Bible, mixed in with lots of church history and hallowed tradition and very firm opinions.
 
My baptism was very different from the kind of baptism we see around here.  More often than not, we baptize babies.  And instead of a pool, there is a font.  And instead of immersion, we place a small amount of water on one’s forehead.  And that too is based on a particular reading of the Bible, mixed in with lots of church history and hallowed traditions and very firm opinions.
 
After I was ordained, I remember a conversation with my dad in which he was trying to understand how someone raised with Believer’s Baptism, someone who had experienced it personally, could possibly be baptizing babies.  And so we talked about the Bible and tradition.  We talked about what each of us thought baptism means -for the person and for God.  We talked and talked and talked.  And at the end of all of that talking… we agreed to disagree.
 
So, what do you think?   Who’s right?  What does baptism mean?  What actually happens to the person being baptized?  And what is God’s doing in all of this splashing around?  I know folks who love to debate questions like that.  I used to be one of them.  But long ago I tired of such conversations because I came to understand what many of those arguments are really about - the desire to make divine things fit into our preconceived worldviews.  And while everyone claims to have the Bible as their source, everyone also does intellectual acrobatics in order to make the Bible say what they want it to say, instead of living with the ambiguities.  
 
Today’s reading from the book of Matthew actually challenges all kinds of sincerely held beliefs about baptism and about who Jesus was and what he came to do.  
 
Matthew writes: “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.”  At first, this statement seems rather innocuous.  But it’s not.  In the Judaism that Jesus practiced, to be baptized by someone meant that you were submitting to that person’s authority; that you were literally becoming a disciple of the one who baptized you.  So, you might be wondering, what on earth was Jesus, who is Lord of all, doing submitting to anyone’s authority or becoming anyone’s disciple?  Good question!
 
In addition, John was preaching about baptism as a sign of the repentance of sins.  And yet the book of Hebrews declares that Jesus was “without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15) So what was he doing participating in a ritual of repentance?  Good question!
 
John the Baptist seems to understand the problematic nature of Jesus’s request and protests: “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”  John understands the dissonance and the challenge to the commonly accepted theology of his day.  But Jesus replies rather cryptically: “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”
 
So, this story does not fit easily into anyone’s theology of baptism.  And it certainly messes with our beliefs about Christ.  In fact, the early church found this story to be such a huge embarrassment that they mostly ignored it.  We no longer ignore it, but we do all sorts of theological acrobatics in order to make this story fit into our preconceived notions and theologies and traditions.  We say things like, “Well, Jesus was just going through the motions, but he didn’t really need to repent.”  Or we say, “Jesus might have been baptized by his cousin, but he certainly did not submit to his authority.”  But those are arguments from silence – a particularly weak way to make one’s point.  
 
But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: theology is not arithmetic.  And the Divine is not always logical.  God will not fit into little, easily digestible packages.  Our problem with theology is that we have superimposed our Western assumptions about the nature of truth onto what is actually a living, breathing, dynamic relationship called faith.  And when we do that, we miss the transformative truth of who Jesus was and what he came to do.  
 
We miss things like this… the River Jordan, where Jesus was baptized, empties into the Dead Sea.  And the surface of the Dead Sea is the lowest place on the surface of the Earth.  And that detail, so easy to miss, sets the stage for understanding what I believe to be the main point about the Baptism of Jesus.  
 
You see, this is not a story about a theology of baptism.  This is a story about the Incarnation.  This is a messy tale of flesh and blood, tears and pain, laughter and hope.  This is yet another scandalous story about just how far down God would come to meet us where we are - all the way to the lowest point on earth.  It is a story about the Lord’s identification with those whom society counts as the lowest: the poor and the stranger, the least and the lost.  This story dares us to ask: did Jesus only pretend to be one of us?  Or did he come all the way down into the full human experience; into the mud and silt of this beautiful but broken world?
 
The blessed waters of baptism are many things to many people.  And folks may argue about those things if they wish.  But I am satisfied with this meaning alone: that these blessed waters are physical reminders, on our own bodies, of a divine love that came all the way down.  
 
In a few moments, we will stand to sing a hymn.  And you will be invited to come forward on the second verse of that hymn, if you wish, to receive some water on your head and to hear these words: “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”  Some will actually remember it.  But most will not.  But you’re not really coming forward to remember an event.  You’re coming forward to remember that the One who made you loves you - and would go to any length, take on any ugliness, descend to any depth… in order to raise you up.  
 
Thanks be to God.  Amen.
 

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​STAR-GAZERS

1/5/2025

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Sunday, January 5, 2025, 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.
 
 
Once upon a time, I stood hand-in-hand 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 she 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 so, they have.
 

I’ve always been drawn to the night sky.  And sometimes I stare into the vast expanse, and I wonder: who are we?  And is who God?  And what is this life all about?  Stargazing an act of worship as old as the human race.
 
Of course, it used to be a lot easier than it is now.  Light pollution prevents us from seeing the night sky as all our ancestors did.  There’s just too much artificial light, which is damaging not only to our stargazing, but to our overall health and the health of the other creatures who share this world.  
 
But today, we remember a time when the stars were far more easily seen.  Today we lift our collective heads to scan the horizon for one particular star, so firmly ensconced in our collective Christmas consciousness that we cannot think of Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus without also thinking of THAT STAR.
 
Every year there is a spate of articles about what it was that the Wise Men actually saw.  Was it an alignment of the planets?  Was it a comet?  Was it a supernova?  Or is this simply a literary device?  In many ancient cultures, a star heralded the birth of a great person or a god.  Maybe, some scholars say, Matthew simply borrowed that idea so that his readers would know that something remarkable had happened in the birth of Jesus.  
 
And what about those people first drawn by that star? Who were they, these Magi; these Wise Men; these Three Kings of Orient?  Well, that too is up for debate, but one thing is clear: these stargazers were unlikely heroes because they were strangers.  And they were strangers, not just because they were from some far-off land.  They were strangers in that they were strange, different, unusual.  Biblical scholars tell us that they may have been magicians or astronomers or astrologers or pseudo-scientists or fortune-tellers or horoscope fanatics.  But by any decent standard, they were odd.  Strange.  Strangers.  
 
Part of their strangeness was their religion.  They practiced the ancient faith of Persia called Zoroastrianism.  Why would heretics be called to look for the King of the Jews?  And they came from the wrong part of the world.  The East was where all the enemies of Israel came from to wage war.  Yet here they were, with their strange astrological calculations and their strange religion, in their strange clothing, speaking their strange language, and coming from a strange and dangerous place.  
 
And yet they are the heroes of this tale - because they had that one essential thing that the Lord loves.  They were curious. 
 
And so, they set out on their 1000-mile journey.  And after months of traveling, they finally arrived in Jerusalem, where they sought the assistance of King Herod.  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 because he thought them a threat to his power.  So, when the Wise Men told him that a new king had been born, he was determined to kill that child too.  
 
And you know the rest of the story, how they continued to follow the Star all the way to Bethlehem, until it came to rest over the house where the Holy Family lived.  And upon entering, they presented the Child with the strange gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  And then having been warned in a dream about Herod’s wicked intent, they headed home, but by another road. 
 
By another road; a new road; an unknown road.  That’s what we all started on, just a few days ago.  This new year, like any new road, is unknown to us.  And it will be full of twists and turns, trickery and danger, revelation and light.  But those Wise Ones left us some wisdom for any time we find ourselves on a new road. 
 
The first is, perhaps, the most obvious.  And it’s simply this: curiosity is always a virtue.  It seems odd to even have to say that, but in this world of cock-sure opinions about everything, it’s important to say.  Remember that these Magi could have simply stayed the course.  They could have stayed where they were.  They were comfortable.  They had nice lives and families and wealth and privilege and education.  And they had their own traditions and religious practices and holy books.  But, like every curious seeker, they suspected that God could not be contained by any one religious system.  They suspected that the truth could not be controlled by any human-made ideology.    
 
Now some folks will tell you that being spiritually curious is a dangerous thing.  They think they know the road that everyone should take.  But I think that the real danger is in believing that you already know all you need to know; or worse yet, that you understand this great mystery we call God.  
 
Second, the Wise Ones knew the value of the journey itself.  On this very long trek, they slept many-a-night together under the stars.  And they spent countless hours speaking to one another around the fire, and singing songs, and roasting meat, and debating what that star meant.  And some of those days were good.  And some of those days were bad.  But all of those days were a gift.  And all of those days were part of the divine revelation.  
 
We over-simplify this story when we make it all about the Star.  The Star is important, but it alone did not prepare them to meet Jesus.  It was the journey that did that.  On the road, they were formed and shaped and changed and opened, so that when they finally arrived, their hopes and fears met in a moment of transcendence.  The journey itself made them ready for that. 
 
And here’s one more bit of wisdom from those Wise Guys: you don’t find God on the path of least resistance.  Those Magi were not looking for political intrigue.  They were just out for an adventure, but then they met the ugliness of life in the face of Herod.  And they had a choice to make.
 
Of course, they could have just done as the king asked.  After all, they wouldn’t be doing the killing.  They would just be obeying orders.   But Herod’s law was immoral.  And so, they resisted, quietly, but effectively.  They did not go back to see him again, even though they said they would.  Instead, they took another road home.  They did what every Christian promises in the waters of baptism: “to resist oppression and evil” in all its forms.    
 
I don’t know what this new year will hold for any of us.  But some very wise folks have left us their best advice.  
 
And so, in 2025, I intend to more fully engage my curiosity in the search for beauty and truth and light and goodness, wherever it is found, in whomever it is found.  No boundaries.  And I hope to be intentional about each moment, each day, each night of this marvelous adventure we call life.   And when oppression and evil show their face, as they no doubt will, by God’s grace, I will resist.  And I will gaze into the night sky, and remember my grandmother, and look for any sign of light in the darkness.
 


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"The glory of God is the human person fully alive."
Saint Irenaeus of Lyon, 2nd century