From Suffering to Hope, Romans 5:1-11

Paul tells us that suffering produces endurance, which produces character, which produces hope.  Even though this winter has been mild I figure having lived through 77 Ohio winters; I should be one of the most hopeful characters in captivity.

Suffering is not my favorite thing about being a Christian. In fact, if we were to do a top 10 list of my favorite things about being a Christian, suffering wouldn’t even be on it.   I really identify with the Disciple Peter who argues with Jesus in Mark 8 when Peter tries to talk Jesus out of his need to suffer and die, remember what Jesus says to him – “Get behind me Satan, you re on the side of men not of God?”  Pretty harsh reply from Jesus, don’t you think.  But if we look more carefully at that story Jesus goes on to say, “take up your cross and follow me…”    you see, following requires that we line up behind the leader.  Remember those days in elementary school when you lined up to go everywhere, and this leader that we profess to follow, whose name we claim as Christians, makes it clear over and over again that cross bearing is part of what we have signed on for at our baptism. 

For Christians, suffering goes with the territory, unless we want to give up the reward for genuine suffering, which is eternal life here and forever.  In Romans 8, Paul says, “We suffer with Christ so that we may be glorified with him.”  But we still wish it wasn’t so, don’t we?  When I first heard a story about a Good Friday cross walk several years ago when the faithful from several churches gathered in Dublin, Ohio for their walk and realized they had no cross with which to walk, I said, “That’ll preach!”  Wouldn’t we love to have Easter without the suffering and pain of Good Friday and the Garden of Gethsemane? –the betrayal and denial that break Jesus’ heart long before the executioners break his body? 

I would.  I am not a fan of the” no pain no gain” school of exercise or theology.  If there is an easier way to get in shape than sweating and having sore muscles, I’m all over it.  And if someone can find an easy path to salvation, I’ll be the tour guide.  But, oops, there’s that nasty verse in the Sermon on the Mount, Mt. 7:13-14  that says the wide easy freeway leads to destruction, and that’s the one without the cross, the one most people choose, because it looks easier and lots more fun in the short run.  But when it comes to matters of faith, don’t we want to focus on goals and consequences for eternity, not just for today?

There are different kinds of suffering, and some are easier to explain or to deal with than others.  First, and easiest in some ways, is the kind of suffering we bring upon ourselves.   Kanye West and Will Smith come to mind as two of this year’s nominees in that category.  Or anyone who was injured trying to take a selfie in a dangerous place?  You can think of other nominees, less famous ones, perhaps, and if we’re honest we could all be on that list at one time or another. 

The difference for most of us is that we aren’t celebrities.  Our screw ups usually don’t show up on channel 10 news or in big bold tabloid headlines for the world to read in the checkout line at Kroger’s.  But that doesn’t mean they are any less painful or hard to live with.    Mistakes have consequences, which mean they usually hurt us and/or other people, and hurting is a form of suffering.  We all make bad choices, it goes with our free will that none of us want to give up.   We make bad choices that impact our health; we drive when we are distracted by electronic gadgets or when our judgment isn’t 100%; we say things in anger that we regret; we break promises to people we love.  We give into worldly pressure to succeed or cut corners, knowing we’re violating our own values, and we may get away with it for awhile, or think we have; but sooner or later, our chickens come home to roost and we suffer.

 That kind of suffering is very painful and hard to deal with, in part because we know there’s no one else to blame but ourselves, but at least self-inflicted suffering makes some sense.  We can understand where it comes from and why.

The second type of suffering makes less sense to me.  It’s been 12 years now, but I still remember the heart-wrenching and horrifying images of the Tsunami in Japan in 2011.   Innocent, helpless people, thousands of them, minding their own business one minute who were suddenly swept up in what looked like science fiction movie about the end of the world the next.  Or name any mass shooting or the inhumane brutality of Putin’s now year old war on Ukraine.  Suffering type number 2 is the kind caused by natural disasters or criminal attacks or lung cancer in someone who has never smoked a cigarette; the kind for which there is no justification or satisfying explanation.  Innocent children who are physically or emotionally or sexually abused.  Faithful spouses who are cheated on, taken advantage of and left with nothing to sustain life.  You get the picture. 

This is a good place to clarify what suffering isn’t.  Shortly after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, the governor of Tokyo made a public pronouncement that he believed this disaster was divine retribution on the people of Japan for their greed.  This gentleman is a follower of the Shinto religion, and I have no knowledge whatsoever of what Shinto theology is or believes.  I do know there are those tempted in most religions to resort to blaming God for things when we can’t figure any other way to justify or explain why bad things happen.  Christianity is not exempt from such bad theology, and I remember there were Christian preachers who claimed that hurricane Katrina devastated the gulf coast in 2005 because of the sin and wickedness of the Big Easy. 

Please understand, I’m not saying actions don’t have consequences or that sin doesn’t cause suffering – those things are built into the natural order of things.  But that does not mean that the loving God I know and worship would kick people when they are down by saying “Gotcha” or “Take that, sinner” over the broken and shattered ruins of a devastated life or city or nation.  When we need God’s comfort and strength and presence the very most, in times of tragedy and loss and despair, would God choose that time to teach us a lesson?  NO, that is the time that Emmanuel, God with us, carries us and comforts us.  When we suffer God is close enough to us to taste the salt of our tears.

Now, I know you can find plenty of places in the Bible where we are told that God punishes sinners with plagues and boils and hell fire and damnation, and we need to deal with that problem head on.   Even in our text for today Paul says we need to be saved from the wrath of God.   The Bible was written over centuries by lots of different authors who were trying to answer the hardest questions and mysteries of life.  Those who experienced God in their suffering as punitive and judgmental wrote about that experience, and almost all of them did so without the benefit of knowing Jesus Christ, who is the best revelation possible for the loving, forgiving, grace-full God we have come to know and love through Jesus.

We need to remind ourselves that the Jews who wrote their Bible, which we call the Old Testament, also knew the loving, merciful side of God, too.  That compassionate part of God’s nature had just not come into clear focus for them as it did in the incarnation of God in Jesus’ human form.  We sometimes forget that most of our great images of God, like the good shepherd of Psalm 23, or God as a mother hen gathering her chicks about her all come from the Hebrew Scriptures.  The essence of Jesus’ teaching, for example the Great Commandments to love God with all one’s heart, soul, strength, and mind, and to love your neighbor as yourself are straight from the book of Deuteronomy. 

Paul tells us that suffering produces endurance, character and hope.  We can see how these first two kinds of suffering can build endurance and maybe character, but what about hope?  We need a third kind of suffering to build Hope, and that is what followers of Jesus do when we voluntarily take on suffering as an act of sacrificial compassion.  The reason Christians embrace and even boast about suffering, as Paul describes it, is that com-passion is essential to the Christian faith, and the word “compassion” comes from two Greek words that mean to suffer with.  Compassion is the kind of love Jesus came to teach and live.  Compassion is the love we feel for neighbors and enemies we don’t even know, simply because we share a common human condition.  Compassion is what we feel for the people of Ukraine because we identify and empathize with them and share their suffering as fellow members of the human family.  God doesn’t have grandchildren – just children – so our fellow human beings are not cousins once or twice removed, but are all our siblings – brothers and sisters together with Christ.

Compassion is a key to God’s very nature.  Why else would God allow Jesus to suffer and die for us while we are yet sinners?   When John tells us that God so loved the world that he gave us Jesus – that’s compassion and empathy to the max.    God becomes one of us in human form to share our existence, including our suffering.

The cross of Jesus is often misunderstood as a necessary sacrifice or punishment for the sins of the world, but when we experience the cross of Christ as an act of compassion and sacrificial love it is much easier to embrace and to imitate in our own lives.  The suffering of the cross for Jesus is an example writ large about how a person of faith handles suffering.  Jesus doesn’t repay evil for evil; he doesn’t lash out in violent anger when he is suffering. He continues to live life in harmony with the will of God, bearing the ultimate suffering in love, compassion and forgiveness – staying true to the way of love which is the essence of life and of God.  How can we follow Christ’s example and take on the suffering of life with character and hope?  Paul says, Hope does not disappoint us [even in the worst of times] because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”  We can’t do it, but God living in us can.

The cross is both a symbol of suffering and hope, because if Jesus’ life ended on Good Friday, suffering would be the final fate of human kind.  Death would define our existence.  But hold the phone; we know the rest of this story.  “Suffering produces endurance and character and hope, and hope does not disappoint.”  For those who don’t give up and leave the ball game when the score looks hopeless, there is good news.  We’ll experience that in its fullness in a few weeks on Easter morning, but for those of us fortunate to be post-resurrection people we already know that suffering and death are not the final chapter in our story.  Thanks to God’s ultimate, victorious will, we can endure suffering and even embrace it because we know it builds our character and makes us people of hope with Easter in our eyes. 

Ash Wednesday/Lenten Prayer

Holy one, I want to practice what I preach/write about as we begin this Holy season of Lent.  [See my previous post from February 21 for reference to Galatians 5 and fruits of the Spirit.] The two words from Galatians that are speaking to me this morning are “self-control,” as one of the good fruits of the Spirit and “anger” from the list of opposites.  I know righteous anger can be helpful.  Jesus and the prophets frequently address their anger at injustice and hypocrisy.  I don’t have a problem with that kind of anger.  Mine is petty, self-centered anger over little, insignificant things that don’t go the way I think they should in my daily life.  

That kind of useless anger poisons my soul.  It drowns out words of grace and mercy toward others and myself.  It blocks love of myself and others and even you when I blame you for the inconveniences I encounter which are a normal part of the imperfect world we live in.  I know people that only see me in my pastor role or even in the good face I put on in public may be surprised that I struggle with self-control and anger.  Why is it that with the one I love the most I can be the most unloving?  Is it because I am tired of pretending to be the good Steve in public that I let the dark side come out as soon as I get home?  Is it because I feel safe in a place of unconditional love that I let me anger and frustration get the best of my self-control?  Is “self-control” itself an oxymoron or a poor choice of words to be in the good fruits list?  I wonder what the Greek word that gets translated as “self-control” is, or is that an intellectual rabbit hole to avoid really looking at myself?  Might it be that I really need to surrender control instead of trying like a two year old to “do it self?” As usual I have more questions than answers, but isn’t that where faith comes in? Walk with me on this journey to resurrection, Lord, as you always have.  Amen 

Presidents’ Day, Ash Wednesday, and Lent

My brain was working overtime on Presidents’ Day Monday.  I just finished Jon Meacham’s excellent biography of Abraham Lincoln, “And There Was Light.”  Ash Wednesday is only two days away, and a Monday book club I am in is reading “Saving Us,” an excellent book on climate change by Katharine Hayhoe.  I think the latter probably explains the song I had running in my head most of Monday morning.  I have always found a lot of meaning in song lyrics, including several from Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals that our choral music department produced many decades ago when I was in high school.  Monday’s song was the title song from “Oklahoma,” or rather one line from that song:  “We know we belong to the land, and the land we belong to is grand.  You’re doing fine Oklahoma, Oklahoma OK.”

Those words got me wondering what a difference it would make if we humans made a simple paradigm shift to believe we belong to the land instead of vice versa?  The whole notion of individuals or corporations owning pieces of the earth was a foreign concept to Native Americans when it was introduced by the European invaders, and given the way we have raped and pillaged the earth and started endless wars over “ownership” of the land it seems the “uncivilized” peoples may have had the better idea.  

The Lincoln story of course deals in great detail about one of those horrible wars fought over expansion of and control over the vast territory that makes up over a third of our current United States geography. The final question that pushed the slave owners to resort to violence was whether the western territories would be settled as slave or free? The best minds of the 19th century, men like Henry Clay and Lincoln could not find a peaceful resolution to that moral and existential question of human equality, and the racism upon which the U.S. Constitution was built still plagues us today. I am reminded of Exodus 20:5 which says, “I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me.” It has been far longer than three or four generations since Lincoln issued the emancipation proclamation. The institution of slavery was made illegal, but the dreadful racism at its core is still visiting iniquity on us. How long will it be until that evil has been exorcised from American hearts?

Much has been written about the spiritual revival going on the last two weeks at Asbury University in Kentucky.  Whether that event is a true revival or just a very long worship service remains to be seen.  Jesus said, “You will know them by their fruits” in Matthew 7:16, and my litmus test for the fruits a true revival will bear is succinctly stated in Micah 6:8 where we read,

“He has told you, O mortal, what is good,
    and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice and to love kindness
    and to walk humbly with your God?”

Ash Wednesday is but a few hours away as I write these words now, and that day marks the beginning for Christians of a 40 day preparation of our hearts and minds for the celebration of Easter.  Forty days holds great symbolism for those of us in the Judeo-Christian tradition.  Great times of testing and reflecting on the meaning of our faith are often identified in Hebrew and Christian Scripture by the number forty.  In the flood story the rain fell for 40 days.  Moses was on Mt. Sinai for 40 days when he received the 10 Commandments.  The Israelites wandered in the wilderness 40 years on their way to the Promised Land.  Jesus was tempted by Satan for 40 days in the wilderness immediately after his baptism.  And it was forty days after Easter when the resurrected Christ ascended to Heaven.  

In our troubled times we dare not cheapen the forty days of Lent by just “giving up” something  we should never have had in the first place.  To make Lent 2023 a significant time of spiritual awakening and renewal of a right spirit within us we need to look deeply into our souls and do an honest inventory of what’s in our spiritual pantry.  Are the fruits of the spirit fresh in my life or are they rotting and moldy from lack of use.  Galatians says, “By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  (5:22-23) Those are all wonderful qualities the world desperately needs, but what do they really mean for our lives if they are to be more than pious platitudes?  And what about those two words ‘by contrast” at the beginning of that list? Sometimes we can learn what certain words mean by exploring their antonyms.  So it may be helpful to look at what Galatians has to say about other human qualities that are the opposites of the fruits of the spirit? 

The verses preceding 22 and 23 say, “Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. “ (Verses19-21).

What if this Lent we made a commitment to pick one of the fruits of the spirit to focus on for our spiritual growth? Pick just one so as not to be overwhelmed and look for examples in others who embody love, joy, peace, patience, or one of the other gifts. Pick just one. Pray about it and for it. These are gifts, something we receive from God, not something we can just make up our minds to do. And when we fail to live generously, for example, as we most certainly will, don’t give up, but ask for grace and forgiveness and try again.

One of the best ways to learn a new behavior is to model our own actions after someone we admire.  When I was thinking about these intertwined themes of Presidents’ Day and Lent I was reminded of another President who has been in the news this week.  Jimmy Carter has gone into hospice care and is nearing the end of a long and remarkable life.  President Carter was not a very successful president by worldly standards.  He was denied a second term by an economic downturn and the Iranian hostage crisis.  But oh what a mark he has made on the world in the 43 years since he left office.  He and Rosalynn, his wife and partner of 75 years have lived simple lives of service to others, building homes for the poor with their own hands, building peace by applying their Christian values to international crises, being honored with a Nobel Peace Prize, and all the while continuing to live in the same humble home and teaching the Bible in their church and with their lives. 

We would all do well to pick a fruit of the spirit exemplified in the life of the Carters and spend this Lent nurturing and watering that fruit so it can multiply and feed the souls of those around us. 

Wailing and Loud Lamentation #67

“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more.”  Mass killing in Bethlehem, Mathew 2:18

67 for 45.  If that was batting average or shooting percentage or my record playing Wordle it would be truly amazing!  Unfortunately after the latest gun violence insanity 67 is the number of mass shootings in our gun-crazed country in the first 45 days of 2023.  How can we not be outraged or at least motivated to do something by this unbelievable statistic?  Because it is just that, another statistic that doesn’t move us because we have become desensitized by the frequency of these stories.  These dead and maimed young people have become just another number and not real live human beings leaving parents, grandparents, and siblings to mourn.

Even more tragic is the fact that the numbers of those who are actually killed or wounded by weapons of war are just the tip of the iceberg.  Hundreds or thousands are traumatized by living through and surviving these attacks.  Young people have seen and felt their friends and classmates bleed out in their arms.  One of the survivors last night in East Lansing had been through an active shooting nightmare in high school in Oxford, Michigan, and another almost unbelievably was a student at Sandy Hook elementary on the day the students and teachers there were used for target practice nearly 11 years ago.

And what are our brilliant “leaders” in D.C. doing about this plague?  Of course, they are taking partisan pot shots at each other over anything and everything instead of actually addressing the problem.  No matter how futile it seems I will write yet another letter to my senators and representative to let them know how I feel about this, and I would urge all who read this to do the same.  It may not make a bit of difference, but who knows when it might. 

I am especially sad about this recent incident because my father died 5 years ago this week, just two days before 17 students were gunned down at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.  When I went back to read what I had written about my dad that week I also found several posts about the students at that high school and what they were doing to demand changes in gun safety legislation.  They were so articulate and passionate that I wrote hopefully about what they might do to change things that my generation has failed to address.  But five years later nothing has changed, except the killings are becoming more frequent; more than 1.5 mass shootings per day is just unacceptable.  If we keep up that pace for the rest of 2023 we will have over 1800 mass shootings this year.  That’s 152 per month!  Are those more statistics that don’t mean anything?

I know there are a majority of us in this country who are in favor of common sense gun regulations like universal background checks and reinstituting the assault weapon ban.  We live in a democracy.  If a majority of us want something done that should make a difference.  But this is a complex problem.  Until we fix gerrymandered Congressional districts; until we fix campaign financing laws so special interests like the gun lobby can’t buy senators and representatives things are not going to change.  We the people are not going to have our voices heard on Capitol Hill until Citizens United is overturned, and given the makeup of the Supreme Court I know that isn’t likely to happen in my life time, and that really pisses me off.  But beneath my anger is a spark of hope that will not be hidden under a bushel.

But I am not going to let my despair stop me from speaking up, and I hope it won’t you either.  If my words can inspire my grandchildren to help create the just society we the people deserve then I will have done my job.  How about you? 

MOUNTAIN CLIMBING and Transfiguration

Two mountain-top experiences in Judeo-Christian Scripture are highlighted in the texts for February 19, the last Sunday before Lent, aka Transfiguration Sunday. Because of that latter designation I have usually focused on the Gospel lesson when preaching on that Sunday.  As Matthew’s Gospel puts it, “Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves.”  This year I also noticed the text from Exodus 24 involves being led by God to a time of solitude by climbing a mountain in response to a divine call.

The closest I’ve come to mountain climbing in recent years has been to walk up a paved path to an observation tower on Clingman’s Dome in the Great Smoky Mountains. At 6643 feet, Clingmans’s Dome is the highest point in the Smokies, but in full disclosure, as with most tourists visiting there, I only hiked the final half mile which is a gain of 332 feet in elevation. That doesn’t sound like much, but it is a fairly steep climb that requires some effort; even though it would never be confused with scaling Mt. Everest. The question these two texts raise for me as we approach the season of Lent again his year is “How much effort am I willing to make in order to put myself in God’s presence?”

Moses responds to God’s call and scales Mt. Sinai, which at 7497 feet is just a bit higher than Clingman’s Dome. Exodus does not give any details on how hard that climb was for Moses, but I am struck by two things it does say. First, after Moses climbs the mountain he has to wait 6 days before God appears. I get really frustrated if I have to wait 30 minutes in a doctor’s waiting room. So what does that faithful, patient waiting tell us clock-driven Americans about what it takes to experience the Holy?

Isaiah tells us that “Those who wait for the Lord will renew their strength,” but that text doesn’t say how long that wait will be. It may just mean that we have to surrender our own agendas if we want to be fully in God’s presence. The final sentence in the Exodus text says Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights. We know that’s Bible speak for a very long time. In other words we don’t measure our time with God in chronos or clock time. Those mountain top experiences can only be described in Kairos time, which means in God’s good time and as long as it takes.

On a clear day you can see for 100 miles from Clingman’s Dome, but Moses got no such photo op on Mt. Sinai; and that’s the second detail that got my attention from the Exodus account.  It says, “Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the LORD settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud.”  Moses is totally enveloped by God’s Holy presence.  There’s no multi-tasking if we want to feel God’s manifestation.  We have to be fully committed and open to whatever God is calling us to do and become.

I get a lot of inspiration from music lyrics, and the song that I’m hearing as I ponder these biblical stories is “Climb Every Mountain” from “The Sound of Music” by Richard Rodgers, and Oscar Hammerstein.  The lyrics to that song say,

“Climb every mountain,

Search high and low,

Follow every byway,

Every path you know.

Climb every mountain,

Ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow,

‘Till you find your dream.

A dream that will need

All the love you can give,

Every day of your life

For as long as you live.”

If you remember the story this song is sung by the Mother Superior to a young Maria who is wrestling with her vocation, her call from God which seems to be pulling her away from the religious life in the convent to a totally different purpose.  To surrender to God may take us in very surprising directions, but whatever that path is it will require struggle and effort, not just one mountain-top experience.  The song says climb every mountain, search high and low, and follow every rainbow to pursue a dream that requires “all the love you can give, every day of your life for as long as you live.”  Every mountain. All the love.  Every day. As long as you live.  God doesn’t ask more of us than we can give, just all we have.

Lent is a great time to ponder such things.  Jesus translates that all-in commitment to “Let the dead bury the dead.” “ Leave your nets.” “Take up your cross and follow me.” We need mountain-top experiences to refuel and renew our souls, but we don’t live on the mountain top.  Moses had to come back down to his golden calf worshipping flock.  Jesus and the disciples had to come back down the mountain and set their faces toward Jerusalem.  We need solitude and close encounters with God to empower us, but we live in the lonesome valley of dry bones and the shadow death. 

Spend time alone with God this Lent, as much time as it takes, and wrestle with whatever is on your heart about what God requires of you in this time and place. 

February 11, 2023

Imaginary Boundaries

Because the Scripture for today is so familiar I wrote a contemporary parable to illustrate the central theme of the sermon, hoping people would hear the text in a new way before preconceived notions could kick in.

Olena and her little brother Anton had been on the run for almost two weeks.  Their father was off somewhere fighting the Russian invaders.  Olena was almost 11 and Anton 6.   There had been constant air raid sirens for months in their suburb just west of Kyiv, but the Russian missiles had always gone elsewhere– until that awful Thursday.  Their apartment took a direct hit that day, killing their mother.  Olena somehow found strength she didn’t know she had to find Anton in the rubble and drag him away from the only home they had ever known.

Olena knew her grandparents had fled to Poland when the war began.  If she and Anton could make it there she hoped they would be safe.  They had traveled almost 500 kilometers and helpful strangers had given them what little food and water they could spare and directed them toward the Polish border.  Anton’s little legs were worn out, and Olena had carried him as much as she could.  People in the last village had told Olena that they were only 5 KM from the border; so instead of stopping for the night she decided to push on thru the pain and exhaustion.  

In the fading twilight she tripped over something in the woods and fell hard with Anton on her back.  As she caught her breath she heard a moan.  She froze and shushed Anton.  Then she heard it again and realized what she had tripped over was not some thing but some one.  She crawled toward the sound and found a badly wounded soldier – a Russian.  Olena’s first reaction was to run away from this hated enemy as fast as she could, but after taking a few steps she stopped and looked back.  Anton was tugging at her to keep going, but she couldn’t.  She just couldn’t leave that poor man there to die alone. 

She went back and knelt down to check if he was still breathing.  He was wheezing and had lost a huge amount of blood.  She looked at his dog tag and saw his name was Dimitri.  When she called him by name his eyes fluttered briefly.  She took the last water she had and bent down to wet his lips.  He choked and sputtered, but his eyes told her he appreciated her effort.  

When she put the water bottle to his lips again she noticed a gold chain around his neck and pulled it out from his shirt.  She found a Russian Orthodox cross on the other end, and she placed it in his hand and held it there with her own hand.  That seemed to calm him, and within 15 minutes his grasp went slack and Olena knew he was gone.  She hated to just leave him there but knew she and Anton had to continue their journey to freedom.  

John 4:5-30, 39-41

When I learned to drive as a teen ager I got the usual parental advice about driving safely, and I even heeded some of it.  In those days before seat belts I’m surprised my friends and I survived our adolescence.  But here was one piece of advice I always took seriously, even into young adulthood—that was a stern warning to never go into the south end of Lima!  You see I grew up in a small town in NW Ohio, and Lima was the closest thing we had to a “big city” for miles around.  It was also the only community with any people of color for 60 miles or more.  You guessed it; the south end of Lima was the black ghetto.  I don’t know that we were ever told why that part of Lima was so dangerous, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. My parents had drawn an imaginary boundary around that neighborhood so effectively that I never dared cross it. 

I was back in Lima a couple of weeks ago to conduct a funeral for one of my uncles, and as I was riding back from the cemetery with the funeral director I realized we were driving through the south end!  And you know what, that neighborhood didn’t look much different than the middle class one I grew up in. 

As we continue this sermon series on “Intentional Neighboring” we need to be reminded that we can’t be about the Jesus business of loving our neighbors unless we remove the imaginary boundaries that separate us.  Some of those are geographic boundaries, and some are mental and emotional.  In our text for this morning Jesus takes on both kinds. There are dozens of lessons that can be learned from this text from John, but I’d like for us to focus on two things this morning from Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well in Samaria.  First, notice at the very beginning of the story John tells us “Jesus left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go through Samaria.”   

Is that true? You know how your google map gives you alternate routes and highlights the one that is the quickest? Well if Jesus used that app the direct route certainly would be the fastest.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean Jesus had to go that way.  My GPS will always tell me that the fastest route from here to Cleveland is up I -71, but there are dozens of other routes I could take that would get me there eventually. 

Jesus had choices, too.  And a big one had to do with Samaria.  We know the Jews and Samaritans were bitter enemies.  They had been feuding for over 200 years about whether the proper place to worship God was in Jerusalem or on Mt. Gerizim in Samaria.  No self-respecting Jew would set foot in Samaria if he or she had a choice – and Jesus had options.  Instead of going north through Samaria he could have gone east a little way, crossed the Jordan river and traveled north until he got past Samaria and then crossed back over the river into Galilee.  Scholars say it would have taken about 6 days to go by foot on that longer route as opposed to 3 days through Samaria.

So one can make a case for the Samaritan route, but for many devout Jews spending an extra 3 days walking was a small price to pay for avoiding any chance of contact with their enemies.  But there’s another way to look at the phrase “He had to go through Samaria.”  In the Scriptures the Greek verb used here usually refers to something that has to be done because it is according to God’s plan.  So John may be telling us here that Jesus “had” to go through Samaria because it was a necessary part of his mission, namely to share the good news with all of God’s children and not just the Jews. 

Intentional neighboring as followers of Jesus means crossing imaginary boundaries on a map and those in our minds. And it often means going in person.  Jesus could not have had this encounter at the well via text message or on a zoom call.  As convenient as those modes of communication can be true neighboring often requires a personal touch, a willingness to go out of our way to meet someone in person. We see the sacrifice Jesus is making when he stops at Jacob’s well because he is tired and thirsty.  He had walked about 60 miles from Judea.  Of course his feet hurt, but notice when he’s tired he doesn’t give up; he rests and asks for what he needs to carry on his mission.  We busy beaver Americans can learn an important lesson from that.  Rest is not a luxury, it’s a spiritual discipline called Sabbath keeping, and is so important it’s one of the 10 commandments.   

Now let’s look at something most of us think is in this story but just isn’t there.  In verse 16 “Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband,’ for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” 

Do you hear what isn’t there?  When I read the commentary about this story I was embarrassed to realize that there is nothing here but simple facts.  The woman has had five husbands, and she’s living with a man she’s not married to.  Period.  Those are the facts, but for centuries the church, myself included, has read into this story a moral judgment.  This woman has been married five times!  What woman of good character does that? 

But that’s not in this text.  If we could hear the inflection in Jesus’ voice as he utters those words we would not hear judgment and rebuke.  He is simply telling her that he knows all about her and still is asking her for a drink.  Just the facts.  He does so to convince her that he is the Messiah, and when he does, she recognizes his love and is able to open up her whole life to him.  Jesus does not judge or condemn her.  And here’s the good news; Jesus doesn’t judge and condemn us either. So leave whatever guilt or shame you may be carrying today at the door on your way out.

Now, let’s look at the reaction of Jesus’ disciples when they find him talking to this Samaritan woman.  They are totally shocked, and if we aren’t also shocked then we don’t understand the radical nature of this story.  Jesus is breaking not one but two sacred rules at once.  Good Jewish men did not interact with Samaritans, nor did they talk to a strange woman.  Crossing boundaries is often dangerous because it offends the powers who create and maintain those boundaries for their own benefit. 

The other familiar story in the Gospels featuring someone from Samaria is of course the Good Samaritan, but there’s one important difference between these two stories.  One is a parable about a fictional character that Jesus tells to answer the question, “Who is my neighbor?”  That’s a great story, but in this account about the woman at the well Jesus takes things up another notch.  He is not telling us how a neighbor acts—he’s showing us.  This time Jesus goes in person and puts his life on the line for the truth- that all of God’s children matter regardless of which zip code or which side of an imaginary boundary  they live on. 

We are so familiar with these stories and Jesus’ teaching that we usually miss how dangerous and radical they are.  We have domesticated Jesus so much that we may miss the point that he is a subversive influence trying to replace the law and order of the temple and the empire with the Kingdom of God.

The church ever since the 4th century has played down the revolutionary nature of the Gospel.  When Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in 312 C.E. and made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire the church became a servant of the status quo instead of a prophetic voice proclaiming liberation of captives and salvation for the oppressed. 

Theological boundaries are by definition somewhat imaginary because we can’t experience God directly.  The problem is we want so badly to understand God and to be right about what we believe that we let our beliefs harden into exclusive ideas about God, and we judge other people who have different but equally definite beliefs.  As Jesus tells this woman God is Spirit, not a material being we can see or confine to some geographic place like Jerusalem or a church building.  God’s Holy Spirit is what lives in each of us to give us life.  That Spirit became flesh in Jesus and the closest we can come to seeing God is to experience Jesus and the grace he extends to all people represented by this outcast Samaritan woman.

Stories like the woman at the well are so familiar we may need to put them in fresh wineskins to appreciate their challenging message.  That was what I hoped to do with the story about Olena and Dimitri earlier – to show an example of being a good neighbor before our preconceived notions about the Scripture for today could kick in.  By coincidence, or Godincidence, there’s a movie in theaters right now that is a perfect example of intentional neighboring.  “A Man Called Otto,” starring Tom Hanks, his son Truman, and Mariana Trevino, could have been made with our sermon series in mind.  Mariana Trevino is marvelous as Marisol, the new neighbor who moves into Otto’s neighborhood and intentionally and persistently refuses to give up on being a good neighbor to a grumpy old man.  That’s all I’m going to say about the plot, but I urge you to see it as part of your homework for being an intentional neighbor.

Speaking of homework, I want to finish today by suggesting some action steps we can all take this week to be more like the neighbors Jesus is calling us to become.

  1. Examine and question any imaginary boundaries we encounter in our daily lives. Christians should be in the business of tearing down boundaries – not building them or preserving them.
  2. Ask hard questions about our own assumptions and beliefs that divide us from others.  Katy Wright had a devotion this week on the church’s Facebook page about this very thing.  Intentional neighboring usually means moving out of our comfort zone which is hard because it is by definition “uncomfortable.”  But Katy posted a diagram of a circle with 3 rings.  At the center of the circle is our comfort zone.  The outer ring she calls our panic zone.  None of us want to go there because we can’t function in panic mode.  But in between those two is a space called “the stretch zone,” and that’s where we can learn and grow.  The stretch zone is where we feel safe enough to open our eyes, ears, and hearts to let new visions of God’s kingdom stretch us. 
  3. Take time to pray this week about this transformational story of the woman at the well. Do we dare hear it and stay in Jesus’ presence long enough to let him change us, or will we retreat to familiar thoughts and ways when the going gets tough?

That’s an urgent existential question.  Our cities and nation and world are dying from hate and conflict and mistrust; and the only solution is more intentional neighboring.  It’s never easy, nor was it for Jesus.  Yes, we live in a scary, broken, troubled world; and so did Jesus. 

 It’s Ok to rest awhile when we’re tired and thirsty, but it’s not acceptable to give up.  Jesus didn’t give up all the way to the cross, and he needs disciples today with the courage and faith to do the same. 

Rev. Steve Harsh

Northwest UMC, Columbus, OH, January 29, 2023

Prayer to Heal Our Addiction to Violence!

Late tonight (Monday), when I should have been going to bed, I heard about yet another mass shooting in California. Not the one Saturday, but a new one on Monday, at least the fourth in the U.S. in three days. I don’t know what to do with my frustration and anger about this uniquely American problem; so I let my heart pour out to God:

Dear God, as you know the bad news of hate and killing just keeps crashing in on us like a tsunami. Monterrey Park, Baton Rouge, Des Moines, Half Moon Bay-all names added to the shameful litany of American gun violence in just the last 3 days. We humans are violent. We’ve known that since Cain killed Abel, but Cain couldn’t reload and kill dozens of people in a matter of seconds. We are tired of the “guns or people kill people argument.” People with guns kill people, and people with access to weapons of war can kill indiscriminately.

Why, O Lord, do we Americans have more guns than any other nation in the world? Yes, we confess our nation was born in violent revolution, oppression of black humans, and genocide of Native Americans. Gun ownership was carved into our Constitution because Southern slave owners feared their human property would rebel against their cruelty. Give us courage, dear God, to face those harsh truths or we will never stem the red tide of innocent blood that stains our collective soul.

Holy One, the fratricide at Gettysburg, Antietam, Chancellorsville, and Chattanooga didn’t quench the thirst for American violence. And when the gun manufacturers couldn’t sell their deadly wares to the military after the Civil War they cleverly used racism and fear of “others” to market more and more sophisticated weapons to American men eager to prove their manhood and protect their property and loved ones by owning the latest guns.

God, we are so tired of the discomfort that creeps upon us when we are in a crowd of people and begin to look around to see who might be the next gunman! This is no way to live! The gun lobby has purchased the votes of our elected officials so that no common sense gun control legislation can ever see the light of day. In my state and in others people can now carry concealed weapons without a permit! We are regressing instead of addressing our problem.

What will it take, Lord, to bring us to our senses? How many more innocent people will die before we find the courage to put an end to this madness? Why can’t we learn from what other countries have done? American exceptionalism blinds us to the wisdom and experience we need to glean from other cultures and nations!

Lord, we do have a mental health problem, that’s true, but the paranoia, rage, and desperation are more than individual problems. Our whole culture, economy, and system of government is mentally ill and in denial. Wake us up from this nightmare, Holy God. Bring us to our senses so we can stop doing the same thing (nothing) and expecting different results! We obviously don’t have a clue as to how to stop the madness on our own. Bring us humbly to our knees and give us ears to finally hear and obey the voice of the Prince of Peace. In whose holy name we beg for your healing mercy and love. Amen

On Kingdom Fishing

I discovered the work of Diana Butler Bass last year and continue to be challenged and inspired by her writing. Her training as both an historian and a theologian gives tremendous new insights into how to read Scripture. One of the most helpful of those commentaries on a familiar passage about Jesus’ call of his first disciples to follow him and “fish for people” broke open for me exciting and challenging new ways to read those texts in their historical context.

I urge you to read her short article at https://dianabutlerbass.substack.com/p/sunday-musings-f5c?token=eyJ1c2VyX2lkIjo0OTI5MDAwOSwicG9zdF9pZCI6OTgxODE1NjksImlhdCI6MTY3NDM3ODIwMiwiZXhwIjoxNjc2OTcwMjAyLCJpc3MiOiJwdWItNDc0MDAiLCJzdWIiOiJwb3N0LXJlYWN0aW9uIn0.MJ9jJmdaJPiOUGhPHuWGvwVoS3I21lN-cTvriOfXfKo&utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email. I hope you will, like me, be inspired to wrestle with this new way of experiencing the call of Christ to be about challenging the injustice of our worldly empires and joining Jesus in the work of building a just and loving kingdom.

The Dream That Will Not Die

They say “misery loves company,” whoever “they” are, and I experienced a little “comfort” from being in the majority yesterday, MLK Day. NPR did an excellent job all day of doing interviews about people who influenced Dr. King and vice versa. I was listening while driving so couldn’t take notes, but I was struck by one professor’s comment. He said (I’m paraphrasing) that it’s important to remind people today who rightfully honor King for being the great civil rights leader that he was that he was not loved and was even reviled by a majority of Americans while he was alive. He cited stats indicating that about 60% of white Americans regarded MLK as a rabble rouser and trouble maker during his lifetime, and a bit surprising, that 50% of black Americans disagreed with King’s tactics and felt he was making their lives more difficult.

Those stats helped ease some guilt I’ve carried for 50 plus years for being one of those whites who dismissed Dr. King as a troublemaker. I even remember thinking the horrible thought that “he got what he was asking for” when he was assassinated. Given my upbringing in an all white, very conservative family and community where in the words of a Rodgers and Hammerstein’s song from “South Pacific” I was “carefully taught to hate all the people my relatives hate” that is not too surprising. In fact I learned just a few years ago that there was a KKK chapter in my NW Ohio community and that one of my great uncles was one of the leaders in that ugly movement. My younger self had no chance but to breathe in the putrid stench of racism.

I was a senior in college, however, when King was gunned down in Memphis and should have begun to know better. My old worldviews were being stretched a bit at that point, but I still remember hearing a sermon the Sunday after Dr. King’s murder where the preacher referred to King as a “Christ figure.” That was more than my puny mind could handle back then, and in hindsight I think it might have been too much for his congregation too since he was soon forced out of that church after only two years there. And that was one of Methodism’s more “liberal” churches. Ironically that pastor became a good friend, colleague, and mentor to me 5 or 6 years later when I was appointed associate pastor to that same congregation after graduating from seminary.

By then I had been converted to a social gospel theology by my seminary professors, and I too got in some hot water for crossing the imaginary line between church and politics. A few years later when I went back to grad school to study rhetoric, which classically is the art of persuasive discourse, I wrote a paper I titled “They Shoot Prophets, Don’t They?” That paper was partly my excuse for not being a more outspoken social critic and partly my more scholarly attempt to understand the very real historical phenomenon I had lived through in the assassinations in Dallas, Memphis, and L.A. in just 5 years between 1963 and 1968.

Prophets are much easier to love from the perspective of history — when they are not goring our current oxen. Lincoln was reviled and hated in his lifetime. Gandhi was assassinated. And let’s not forget about Jesus. We’ve sanitized his crucifixion with the flawed doctrine of substitutionary atonement when the cold hard truth is that Jesus was executed because he was a thorn in the side of the Jewish and Roman authorities who had to go.

One other thing I remember about grad school 30 plus years ago is that I wrote a different paper analyzing the rhetorical effectiveness of Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. My argument then and now is that the reason that speech was so powerful is because the dream MLK delivered so eloquently on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in 1963 was not a new dream. King’s dream speech was brilliantly built on the foundation of the Judeo-Christian tradition all the way back to Amos and Micah and Isaiah. Those visions of “righteousness rolling down like waters,” of “doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God” were also woven into the founding documents of our nation by Jefferson. King reminds us all in his powerful voice and vibrant images of those very values our common life aspires to.

That dream has survived crucifixion, persecution, crusades, pogroms, Holocaust, genocide, and systemic racism for over 2800 years. It is so easy to be discouraged that the forces of evil have risen up in recent years to seemingly defeat that dream, but the lesson of history is that truth and justice will prevail someday. It’s very frustrating that we have regressed in our pursuit of the dream Dr. King lived and died for. Our schools and neighborhoods and churches are still segregated. Alabama and Mississippi still celebrate Robert E. Lee day on King’s birthday. White supremacy has polluted the political mainstream and taken over the party of Lincoln. But we still have a dream that is stronger than hate, and “deep in my heart I do believe, that dream will overcome someday.”

Practice Gratitude, Part 2

[Note: This post was written on January 2 but not posted until January 4. It will make more sense with that timeline in mind.] My year of practicing gratitude literally began with a tough challenge. For almost all of my adult years the new year has begun with watching the iconic ball drop in Time Square. Thanks to my own and our cultural addiction with football, 2023 was different. Along with a group of friends I watched a different ball drop this year—a ball that will linger in Ohio State fans’ memories as “wide left.” 2023 was literally just a few seconds old when what would have been a game winning field goal over #1 Georgia sailed like a wounded duck far left of the goal post.

That was almost 36 hours ago, but today as I read several articles about the game in today’s Columbus Dispatch I relived that moment and the frustration of a controversial call that dramatically affected the outcome of the game. I should not have subjected myself to that memory, but I was unable to let it go.

For me, that is a prime example of my biggest obstacle to practicing gratitude. I mentioned one of my mentors, Dr. Bill Brown, and his rhetorical theory called attention shifting in my last post, and this is exhibit A for 2023. In the larger scheme of problems on the world stage or even in my personal life the outcome of a silly game should not be my prime focus. The Peach Bowl is over and done. My dwelling on a terrible call by the refs does not deserve the amount of my attention I am choosing to spend on it. And it is a choice. I can shift my attention to a whole host of things that deserve my attention so much more if I choose to do so. [Remember, I wrote this a few hours before the near fatal football injury to Damar Hamlin, but that tragedy underscores in spades that all football games and other athletics must be kept in proper perspective.]

Notice I did not say that this is a simple or easy shift to make. The local media, my friends, and my social media are full of conversations about the Ohio State game. It is not easy to shift my attention away from all that chatter, but it can be done. I can choose to not read about the game. I can literally switch the tv channel when discussion of that game comes on. Unfortunately I don’t have a remote that can switch the channels in my brain when I think about that loss or my own aches and pains, or other negative and depressing problems in our world. But attention switching is a skill that I can learn if I choose to do so. And making practicing gratitude my priority for 2023 is step 1 in that process