JAMES CAMPBELL
  • Home
  • Sermons
  • Other Writing
  • FIRST CHURCH
  • Photography

CUTS LIKE A KNIFE

10/13/2024

0 Comments

 
Picture
Sunday, October 13, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
 
 
Mark 10:17-31
 
As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
 
Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”
 
Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”
 
 
Whenever we’re in Maine, we always make a stop at our favorite kitchen store in downtown Portland.  It’s full of treasures and all kinds of gadgets and doo-dads that you never knew you needed… until you see them.  We always walk away with something we hadn’t thought to buy.
 
But a couple of summers ago we were there on a mission.  I had determined to find a really good kitchen knife to assist me in my chopping and dicing.  And we ended up with a real beauty - crafted in Germany and with an edge that can split a hair.
 
I love that knife, but truth be told, it also kind of scares me.  I’m careful when I use it and when I wash it and when I put it away.  I know that in the wrong hands, a knife can do a world of harm.  But in the right hands, a knife can do a world of good.  In a surgeon’s hands, a knife can save your life.  
 
The book of Hebrews declares that “the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword (which is really just a big knife!), piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joint from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”
 
This is the language of surgery – a knife that divides soul from spirit, joint from marrow.  And how apt it is that the editors of the New Revised Common Lectionary paired this epistle reading with today’s Gospel lesson, because the Gospel lesson is actually a healing story.  
 
I know it doesn’t seem like it at first.  The main character, described in some accounts as a “rich young ruler,” is not physically ill.  But Mark uses certain language in telling this story that he only uses when describing a healing.  For example, there is the rich man’s physicality: he runs up to Jesus and kneels before him.  There is also an element of desperation in what he does and in how he humbles himself.  And those are hallmarks of a healing story.  And then there is the placement of the story within Mark’s Gospel.  It is wedged smack dab between two other healing stories: the boy with an unclean spirit and Blind Bartimaeus.  
 
So, this desperate man ran up to Jesus and blurted out: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  And notice how Jesus answered.  He didn’t ask the man about his theology.  He didn’t require that the man pray a specific prayer.  He didn’t ask him to join a church.  Instead, Jesus guided the conversation toward how the man lived with his neighbors.  
 
“You know the commandments,” Jesus said.  “Don’t kill.  Don’t steal.  Don’t cheat on love.  Don’t lie.  Don’t defraud.  And honor your parents.  – Now here’s something really interesting: “thou shalt not defraud” is not actually one of the Big Ten.  So, let me say it again: theology is poetry, not arithmetic.
 
When the rich young man heard this, he replied: “I’ve kept all these commandments since I was a boy!”  And you know what?  He was telling the truth.  This was an all-round good guy.  And Jesus knew that.  Mark says that Jesus looked at him; he really looked at him and saw him… and he loved him.  In fact, he loved him enough to tell him the whole truth.  And it was surgical.
 
“You lack one thing,” Jesus said.  “Go, sell everything you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
 
When the rich young man heard this, he was shocked.  And the disciples were shocked.  And most of us are shocked.  Then the rich young man hung his head and cried. Because it was just too much to ask.  Because the knife was too sharp; the surgery too extensive.  And so, he decided to take his chances with what ailed him.  
 
A lot has been said about this passage over the centuries – most of it said in an attempt to offer us some wiggle room; to dull these sharp words of Jesus and make them less dangerous.  
 
Here’s an example: one ancient scribe actually rewrote verse 24 to read: “How hard it is for those who trust in riches to enter the Kingdom of God.”  Well, that’s better!  We know we shouldn’t trust in our money.  We know we should trust in God.  We even print that on our money: “In God We Trust.”  The problem is that’s not what Mark wrote.  
 
A 9th century biblical interpreter invented the idea that a camel going through “the eye of the needle” was not a reference to a sewing needle at all.  Instead, it was a reference to an especially low gate in the wall that surrounded ancient Jerusalem.  And the camels could only get through this “Eye of the Needle Gate” if stooped low and unladen of their cargo.  So, said this interpreter, Jesus’s real point was that the rich should humble themselves and bow low.  They should get rid of any excess baggage in order to pass through the gate and into the Kingdom of God.  But here's the problem with that one: archeologists say that no such gate ever existed.  
 
Other parsers of the Bible have suggested that Jesus never really meant for this man to give up his money, but simply wanted to expose him to the futility of trying to keep the law of Moses.  Besides the possible anti-Semitism in such an idea, it completely ignores the fact that Jesus himself said that not one letter of the law would disappear until Kingdom come.  
 
Aha, you might be thinking!  But I’m not rich!  This can’t apply to me!  Well, according to current data, modern Americans, as a collective, are considered the wealthiest people in the history of the world, with a cumulative net worth reaching unprecedented levels.  So yes, we are rich.  And Jesus said: “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God!”  
 
I think Jesus actually meant what he said to the man because Jesus talked a lot about money and the poor.  Nearly 15% of everything Jesus ever said was about money and possessions.  But Jesus also knew other rich people, some of whom supported his ministry, that he did not ask the same thing of.  So, what was really going on here with this rich young man?  
 
A wise old preacher once said that there is a direct connection between your wallet and your heart.  You pull on one, you feel it in the other.  Our own dear Ford Cole once told me that a former rector of his thundered from the pulpit: “If God doesn’t have your heart, he doesn’t want your money!”  And which point, the entire Stewardship Team passed out!  
 
But that old rector was on to something.  God does want our hearts.  The problem is that they are crowded places, full of idols.  For some folks, that means trusting in their money more than they could ever trust in God.  But for others, it might be fear in your heart’s chambers.  Or maybe jealously hides in your heart.  Or an old resentment has set up shop there.  Or maybe you secretly hate your neighbor.  Or maybe your politics have become your idol; a political party has become your savior.  Or maybe your heart is sick with pride.  Or deceit.  Or vanity.  Or something else entirely.  The list of all those things that can displace God is endless.
 
Whatever it is that fills our hearts, God looks at us and sees us… and loves us just the same.  Because that is not all we are.  Like the rich young man, we are so much more.  But the love of God will not leave us in ill health when we could be well.  
 
The rich young man walked away from his healing that day.  Did you know that he is the only person in the Gospels to ever walk away?  And maybe that was the end of his story.  Or maybe not.  Maybe, like me, after he resisted, he went home and thought about it.  And maybe the next day or the next week or the next year, he went out and found Jesus again, and got his heart straightened out.  And maybe… I will be too.
​

0 Comments

BEGINNING TO FORGET

10/6/2024

0 Comments

 
Picture
World Communion Sunday, October 6, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
 
 
Mark 10:13-16
 
People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
 
 
Psalm 139 declares that we humans are fearfully and wonderfully made.  And so, we are!  The human body is a marvel of engineering and adaptability and regeneration.  And the human brain, well, the human brain contains a universe all its own.  It is a vast repository of information and data.  
 
Scientists tell us that the average human brain can hold 2.5 million gigabytes of data!  And some recent studies even suggest that the brain’s capacity is larger than that.  Can you imagine?  
 
We often think of data as cold, hard facts – things like multiplication tables or recipes or anniversary dates.  But our memories are also included in this vast database.  And memories can be more ethereal than the hard facts.  For example, we might remember what color our childhood house was.  But we also might remember how that house felt to us.  We might remember the experience of being in that house and of that house. 
 
In the same way, a smell can suddenly take us on a memory journey to a feeling we thought we had forgotten.  A whiff of orange blossoms instantly takes me back Spain and I am seventeen years old again and on the adventure of a lifetime.  I don’t remember what I wore that day, but I know how it felt to be there.  And that feeling is also the truth because the truth is bigger than cold, hard, verifiable data.  The truth is also feeling and longing and that insistent whisper.
 
Yet we sophisticated adults resist this idea.  I’m not sure why.  Fear, I guess.  Maybe hubris.  Or a need to control.  Don’t talk to us about what cannot be proven.  We want facts, not faith.  Explanation, not exploration.
 
And yet, we have chosen to follow Jesus, a most ethereal experience.  One cannot prove the veracity of the Christian faith, no matter what anyone tells you.  Instead, one receives it.  As Jesus said: “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive (or accept) the Kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”
 
One day, people were bringing children to Jesus so that he might touch them and bless them.  But the disciples, concerned as they were with very adult things like order and reason and schedules, spoke sternly to the parents and no doubt frightened the children.  
 
Well, Jesus didn’t like this one bit.  In fact, Mark says he was indignant.  And so, to his controlling disciples, he said: “(No, no, no!)  Let the children come to me; do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.” “Truly I tell you (adults), whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”
 
So how do children receive the Kingdom of God?  And what is it that they are receiving?  Well, it begins with simplicity.  Little children receive each day as a gift.  They live in a world is which anything is possible.  And everyone is a friend.  Life is beautiful.  They don’t worry about their next meal.  They take it for granted that they will be safe and warm and loved.  Are they just naïve and inexperienced, not yet graduated from the school of hard knocks?  Or do they remember something that we all used to know?  
 
About twenty years ago, there was a preacher in the City of New York named R. Maurice Boyd.  He was a brilliant man and delivered his well-chosen words in a delightful Irish brogue.  Dr. Boyd was spellbinding in the pulpit, effortlessly pulling references from Shakespeare and astronomy and pop culture and the Bible, and then weaving them all into a tapestry of inspiration.  
 
In one of his sermons, he told this unforgettable story: a young couple in his former congregation came to him one day with a wondrous tale.  They had a son who was about five and a daughter who was a newborn.  And, of course, they had a baby monitor so they could hear their daughter if she needed them.
 
One day, they heard a voice on the monitor that was not their daughter’s. It was their five-year-old son’s.  He was having a chat with his little sister, which they found awfully cute.  But then his voice grew quiet and serious.  And this is what they heard him say: “Emily, tell me about God.  I’m beginning to forget.”
 
What an odd thing for a child to say.  Or was it?  Is it even remotely possible that he had an actual memory that was slipping away?  And did we have those memories once too?  
 
“Emily, tell me about God.  I am beginning to forget.”  
 
Oh, how easily we forget.  We have forgotten where we even came from.  We have forgotten who we are.  We have forgotten whose we are.  We are suffering from a mass amnesia that threatens our very existence. 
 
And we don’t even try to hide it anymore.  We openly love power more than kindness; muscle more than mercy.  We love our opinions more than people.  The Kingdom of God is all around us.  The memory of its glory still resides somewhere in our brains.  But we are beginning to forget.  
 
And that is exactly why this room, and what we do in this room, are so important.  And that is exactly why I will never apologize for calling this congregation to be regular in worship; to make it a priority - because it is in worship, in community, that we remember what is true.  In this room, we remember who we are.  In pulpit and pew, at font and table, we receive the Kingdom of God... like a child.  
 
I don’t know what you think happens at this Table.  In the end, it doesn’t really matter what we think.  What matters is the experience itself.  At this table, we experience community and unity and the laying aside of all the differences we pretend are so important.  At this table we experience the power of sacrifice and love.  At this table, we remember Jesus, who called us his own family, making us all siblings.  At this table we REMEMBER, with our bodies, what is actually and finally TRUE.  
 
And what is true is that we are hungry.  And what is true is that we are thirsty.  And what is true is that we lonely.  - But what is also true is that we are family.  And what is also true is that this table is set for the whole world.  And what is also true is that Jesus meets us here with the very Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation.  
 
We forget.  But Jesus helps us remember.  And all we have to do is receive it… like a child.
 
 

0 Comments

    Archives

    July 2025
    June 2025
    May 2025
    April 2025
    March 2025
    February 2025
    January 2025
    December 2024
    November 2024
    October 2024
    September 2024
    July 2024
    June 2024
    May 2024
    April 2024
    March 2024
    February 2024
    January 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    May 2023
    April 2023
    March 2023
    August 2022
    July 2022
    March 2022
    November 2021
    February 2021
    July 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

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