We continue today with our sermon series on disputing with God. The past two sermons in this series have been on the book of Exodus, and in particular with Moses and the people, as they struggled in the wilderness and tried to remain faithful through that time of unknowing and uncertainty. In some ways, we’re kind of moving backward to Genesis 18, but one of the things I wanted to point out that maybe we don’t often think about is that we open the Bible and there’s Genesis at the beginning.

It starts with the creation story, and we think that’s a very natural beginning narratively. But in terms of the way that the Bible was constructed, Exodus, and the Exodus experience of the people being released from slavery in Egypt and God liberating them, is actually kind of the beginning point of the story of the people of God, the Hebrew and Israel. But the book of Genesis then is kind of the prequel.

So it’s kind of like around Christmas time I’ll remind us that, you know, it wasn’t that the story of Jesus’ birth was written down at the time of Jesus’ birth. It was written years and years later, hundreds of years later, really, once people had kind of understood the importance of Jesus’ life and they said, “Gee, I wonder how he was born. We should figure that out and tell that story.” In the same way, also, the people who are liberated from Egypt say, “Well, gee, how did this all come about?”

And so they go back and they tell the stories that we have in Genesis. Most of the stories in Genesis, of course, revolve around a man named Abraham and his wife Sarah. Just preceding the passage that we are about to read, God has come to them, and this is just to help us kind of orient overall into the big picture. This is after Noah and the Ark and the flood, and then the rainbow, and God has promised never to again destroy the earth.

Then God seeks to begin again with this project that God is trying to carry out through humanity and says, Abraham and his wife, that’s where I’m going to start. I’m going to build a nation through them. And even in their old age, then God comes and visits them with two strangers. Abraham and Sarah open up their home to them, welcome them, feed them, and come to find out that they are messengers from God and that they are God’s chosen people to begin again and that through them, even though they are old, they will have many descendants, as many as the stars in the sky.

And then from there, the two visitors go out and we pick up the story from there in Genesis 18. This translation just calls them the men. Other translations might have visitors or even angels.

Genesis 18: 16-33                                                                                                                                 

Then the men set out from there, and they looked toward Sodom, and Abraham went with them to set them on their way. The Lord said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, seeing that Abraham shall become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? No, for I have chosen him, that he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice, so that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.” Then the Lord said, “How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin! I must go down and see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me, and if not, I will know.”

So the men turned from there and went toward Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before the Lord. Then Abraham came near and said, “Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it? Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” And the Lord said, “If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.” Abraham answered, “Let me take it upon myself to speak to my lord, I who am but dust and ashes. Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?” And he said, “I will not destroy it if I find forty-five there.” Again he spoke to him, “Suppose forty are found there.” He answered, “For the sake of forty I will not do it.” Then he said, “Oh, do not let my lord be angry if I speak. Suppose thirty are found there.” He answered, “I will not do it, if I find thirty there.” He said, “Let me take it upon myself to speak to my lord. Suppose twenty are found there.” He answered, “For the sake of twenty I will not destroy it.” Then he said, “Oh, do not let my lord be angry if I speak just once more. Suppose ten are found there.” He answered, “For the sake of ten I will not destroy it.” And the Lord went his way, when he had finished speaking to Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

Genesis 18, the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, is perhaps one of the most misunderstood passages of the entire Bible. The two towns or cities become the focus of God’s anger because of their wickedness. Yet the exact nature of the wickedness is never specifically mentioned.

There’s mention of the way they treat outsiders, how they abuse them and mistreat them. There are certainly accounts of assault and violence. And of course, we all know that this passage has been used over the centuries to shame and exclude and other people of same-sex attraction. People who want to oppose homosexuality from a religious viewpoint point to this passage as their source to affirm homosexuality is a sin.

Now, given the sensitive nature of this topic, I don’t want to feel the need to move down this path, but let me just say this: To equate the actions of any two people in love with that of a violent assault of someone on a stranger does not hold water. It just doesn’t.

So let me relate this to more current events. The New York Knickerbockers—I like to say the whole name, the Knickerbockers—won the NBA championship for the first time in 53 years this past week.

And Knicks fans have lined the city streets in celebration. And as there is any time people drink and celebrate in public, fights have broken out. These fights have nothing to do with being a Knicks fan or a basketball fan and everything to do with being drunk and probably way overstimulated.

We would never say that God is angry with all Knicks fans because of these incidents. The only people who would say that are people who are already not Knicks fans. They will see these incidents as backing their bias. But the bias already existed.

Likewise, nobody reading Genesis 18 would come to the conclusion that God disapproves of same-sex relationships except for those who are already biased against gays and lesbians. It is the violence and assault that deserves God’s anger. Period. That is it.

Those who would use this passage to defend their bigotry or worse, their own physical violence or verbal violence against those with whom they disagree are actually guilty of the very thing that put Sodom and Gomorrah in God’s crosshairs in the first place.

When we widen out and read this story in context, we realize that the real issue at the heart of the passage is hospitality to strangers.

Hospitality to strangers, you see, is a biblical mandate. It could not be more clear. The Bible drives home this point time and time again. You take care of the stranger in your midst, the foreigner or the alien in your country. Why? Again, it goes back to that origin point for the Hebrew people because you were once strangers yourself. You were once foreigners in a foreign land, and you know what it’s like to be mistreated.

Right before the passage we read for today, as I explained in the setup, Abraham and Sarah offer hospitality to strangers. Strangers, who it turns out, were messengers or angels sent from God. And because Abraham and Sarah showed kindness to strangers and welcomed the foreigners into their home and fed and cared for them, God chooses them to begin again after the flood.

And in this passage, God makes a covenant with Abraham. God says, I will be your God, and you will be my people. He tells Abraham that through him he will build a great nation as numerous as the stars.

But this is the second covenant that God makes. The first one is after Noah and the flood, where God says, I will never again wipe out all the people because of their sin.

Now, as soon as the covenant is made, who do we expect to break it?

Abraham, right?

And don’t worry, Abraham makes his own mistakes. But biblically speaking, God is the first to be tempted to violate the terms of the covenant. Did you catch it? When God hears about the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah and the way they treat strangers, God decides to wipe them out. Well, that would break both covenants, wouldn’t it?

So God wonders, seemingly out loud, should I just go ahead and do it, but not tell Abraham?

Wow. That’s really interesting, isn’t it?

We think we’re the ones who should be afraid of God’s judgment. But according to Genesis, God seems to be a little bit afraid of Abraham’s judgments, not the other way around.

This is a turning point in Scripture and the basis for our faith and trust in God. To paraphrase the great Swiss theologian Karl Barth, we may choose to live without God. Humanity may prefer a godless existence. But God never chooses to live without us.

Perhaps the central characteristic and identity of the triune God is the refusal to ever be without humanity.

So one way to read this story of Sodom and Gomorrah, a good way I think, is to understand that this is actually a test for God. Prior to Abraham, God was free to do whatever God wanted to do. But now, now God is bound by the covenant that God has made.

God knows that if he lets Abraham in on his plan, Abraham will disapprove. And indeed he does. Abraham says, what if there are 50 righteous who live in these towns? Will you spare them then? God says yes, if there are 50. What about 45? 30, 20, 10.

Just, by the way, footnote, this is where the notion of a minyan comes from. A minyan is that ten people are required for certain prayers in the Jewish tradition. You have to have a minyan. And so, you know, there are some times where there’s a group that might be joining at a synagogue and there’s eight of them and they have to go out and flag down two other Jews to come in and have a minyan so that they can have prayers. That’s where this comes from: If there are ten, I will not destroy the city.

Like Moses, Abraham convinces God to show mercy. But let’s be clear, it’s not the case that God is vengeful and has to be convinced to show mercy. Rather, it is that God is merciful. But sometimes in the midst of anger, God forgets God’s self. It has to be reminded of God’s true nature.

Now it has been said to those who believe, no explanation is necessary, those who do not believe, no explanation will satisfy. I’m not sure if I buy that 100%, but I think it makes a good point. If we are inclined to faith, if we have a sense that we are a part of something bigger, if we believe that there is a benevolent presence that infuses the universe with life and meaning, we don’t need the Bible to convince us.

Rather, the Bible helps us work out what kind of God we believe in. And rather than just telling us what kind of God is, the Bible tells us stories about God that were shared throughout human history of people working out what kind of God is, considering what we know about God and what we know about the world. And if we approach the Bible this way, what we actually find is a treasure chest of the world’s biggest ideas and questions.

I mean, how limited and unhelpful is the interpretation that Genesis 18 is about how two people choose to share their love and affection. How mean-spirited and harmful is that interpretation? And what does it say about God?

Nothing good.

But it was the early Christian theologian and philosopher Augustine of Hippo who wrote, “whoever then thinks that he understands the Holy Scriptures or any part of them, but puts such an interpretation upon them as does not tend to build up this twofold love of God and neighbor, does not yet understand them as he ought.” In other words, if your interpretation of Scripture doesn’t lead you to love God and neighbor more, you have not yet understood Scripture correctly.

If your understanding of Scripture does not lead you to love God and neighbor more, you have not yet understood it correctly. Conversely, as the quote on our bulletin cover today states, “Hate, it appears, is the heresy.”

Friends, what I’m trying to get at here is that faith is not some static statement of beliefs to which we choose to ascribe or not. Not. Faith is a living, evolving relationship with God and one another. Faith, to put it in the language of the book of Genesis, is the living out of the covenant between God and humanity. “Faith,” writes Madeleine Lengel, “is what makes life bearable with all of its tragedies and ambiguities and sudden, startling joys.”

And one of the many ambiguities we encounter in life is the very issue of Sodom and Gomorrah. Not human sexuality, but how justice and mercy relate to one another. Because God has a point here. As much as we don’t want to admit it, I mean in the abstract, it’s easy to agree with Abraham. It’s not right to punish the innocent along with the guilty. That’s not fair. That’s not justice.

But neither is it fair to the innocent to leave the wicked go unpunished or unchecked, right? Bobby Williamson points out “there’s no discussion here about simply stopping the wickedness in one way or another. Or even just eliminating the people perpetuating wickedness while leaving the righteous alone.” That’s never even on the table. The assumption here is that they are all in it together. “But if mercy in this case basically means ignoring the land’s outcry and letting the wickedness stand, what does that say? And what does it mean for the innocent who continue to live there?” And he concludes with this: “In a modern society that so values individual autonomy, how do we think about the ways in which our fates are inextricably tied?”

Now that is a question worth wrestling with, don’t you agree? That will get us a lot further down the road than judging what we think about the way that two people love one another. How do justice and mercy relate? And how are our fates intertwined? With one another.

I don’t have answers to that. But I think that’s what we’re supposed to be wrestling with as people of faith.

It’s an odd notion to me that our image of God that we receive as children would not continue to grow and change with us as we get older and experience more of life in the world. We need an adult image of God to carry with us, to walk with us in this complicated and confusing world. But so many of us were never given permission, or whatever, to allow our notion of God to evolve, to wrestle with it in meaningful ways. And so we look like people who are trying to engage this complicated world with this very rudimentary image of God.

So if you’ve never received permission to wrestle with the image of God that you carry with you, please, please consider this sermon series your sign. Permission is granted. God welcomes your questions, your doubts, and your challenges because God has decided not to be God without you. So take it on good authority. Not mine, two guys named Moses and Abraham.

Amen.

The post Disputing with God: Advocating for Others appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Our reading this morning comes from Exodus chapters 33 and 34. This is the follow-up to what we read two weeks ago, where Moses was up on the mountain talking with God. The people were down waiting for Moses to return with a word from God. And it was taking longer than they expected. So they turned to Aaron, Moses’ brother, and said, “Moses and God seem to have abandoned us. Please fashion for us another God that we can worship.”

Aaron said, “Give me all your jewelry” and melted it down, made a golden calf, and the people worshiped. God looked down and saw what the people were doing and said to Moses… This really upsets me. And I think I’m just done with these people, and I’m going to just wipe them out like we did with the flood. And Moses reminds God of God’s promises and faithfulness to God’s people. At the end of the passage, we find out that Moses has changed God’s mind. God decides not to visit destruction upon the people again. But this is what happens next:

Exodus 33:1–23; 34:4–9                                                                                                                  

The Lord said to Moses, “Go, leave this place, you and the people whom you have brought up out of the land of Egypt, and go to the land of which I swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, saying, ‘To your descendants I will give it.’ I will send an angel before you, and I will drive out the Canaanites, the Amorites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. Go up to a land flowing with milk and honey, but I will not go up among you, or I would consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people.”

When the people heard these harsh words, they mourned, and no one put on ornaments. For the Lord had said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘You are a stiff-necked people; if for a single moment I should go up among you, I would consume you. So now take off your ornaments, and I will decide what to do to you.’ ” Therefore the Israelites stripped themselves of their ornaments, from Mount Horeb onward.

Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp; he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the Lord would go out to the tent of meeting, which was outside the camp. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all the people would rise and stand, each of them, at the entrance of their tents and watch Moses until he had gone into the tent. When Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the Lord would speak with Moses. When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would rise and bow down, all of them, at the entrance of their tent. Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Then he would return to the camp, but his young assistant, Joshua son of Nun, would not leave the tent.

Moses said to the Lord, “See, you have said to me, ‘Bring up this people,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. Yet you have said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.’ Now if I have found favor in your sight, please show me your ways, so that I may know you and find favor in your sight. Consider, too, that this nation is your people.” He said, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” And he said to him, “If your presence will not go, do not bring us up from here. For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people, unless you go with us? In this way, we shall be distinct, I and your people, from every people on the face of the earth.”

The Lord said to Moses, “I will also do this thing that you have asked, for you have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name.” Moses said, “Please show me your glory.” And he said, “I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you the name, ‘The Lord,’ and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. But,” he said, “you cannot see my face, for no one shall see me and live.” And the Lord continued, “See, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back, but my face shall not be seen.”

So Moses cut two tablets of stone like the former ones, and he rose early in the morning and went up on Mount Sinai, as the Lord had commanded him, and took in his hand the two tablets of stone. The Lord descended in the cloud and stood with him there and proclaimed the name, “The Lord.” The Lord passed before him and proclaimed,

“The Lord, the Lord,
a God merciful and gracious,
slow to anger,
and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,
keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation,
forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin,
yet by no means clearing the guilty,
but visiting the iniquity of the parents
upon the children
and the children’s children
to the third and the fourth generation.” 

And Moses quickly bowed down to the ground and worshiped. He said, “If now I have found favor in your sight, my Lord, I pray, let my Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for your inheritance.”

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

The older I get, and the longer I have been in this gig of talking about God for a living, the more and more I am convinced that those that speak of God the loudest, those that speak with the most certainty and authority of eternal matters, those that claim the mantle of faithful and true, are actually most likely to be worshiping an idol of their own creation.

The god they proclaim is so often small and unworthy of the title. This god only cares for some people, not everyone. The god they proclaim is bound by formulas that make little sense and force God into making decisions that are cruel and capricious. The god they proclaim offers salvation by syllables: if you say the right words in the right order, forgiveness and mercy and salvation are yours, no matter what you have done or said previously. That magic incantation is like an eternal get-out-of-jail-free card.

This god is available to those who are willing to turn off their ability to think critically and freely, and just believe certain things to be true. If you call on the name of this god or pray in a certain way, this god will always answer.

Just listen to them and ask, “How big is this God, really?” And does this sound like the God we encounter in scripture? Barbara Brown Taylor makes it plain that it is not. She writes, “Only an idol always answers.”

The God that we encounter in the Bible is no idol. And let me be very clear, I am not talking about idols like the Hebrews built with Aaron, a statue made of their gold jewelry. I am talking about the kind of idol that we make with our minds, false gods of our own making.

Now, to be sure, we all make God in our own image to one degree or another. Recognizing the human proclivity to idolatry is, perhaps, the first step to a more authentic and robust faith. That is why the Bible talks about it early and often. There is little that makes God angrier than idolatry. But again, not for the reasons we may have been led to believe. It is not because God has such a fragile ego that God must be worshiped alone and given credit for everything. Again, what a small god that is. Rather, it is because making God in our own image is the first step into us believing that God is in our corner and on our side, which can be used to justify all sorts of atrocities. Anne Lamott reminds us, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”

Passages like the one we just read remind us of the dangers of such idolatry, not only because they explicitly tell us so, but because they present us with a God which does not fit neatly into any of our boxes or preconceived notions. The God of Exodus is not a divine therapist sent to make everything in our lives better. The God Moses encounters is wild, free, and not subject to any limits we might set on the divine.

In today’s passage, Moses continues to argue with God over what should be done with the Hebrew people in the wilderness. Let me offer a quick recap up to this point. The people found themselves captive in Egypt, slaves to Pharaoh. Sent by God who heard their cry, Moses frees the people and leads them into the wilderness, where they wander for generations, guided by their hope in the promise of a better life.

But when things take longer than they expect, when they are hungry and tired, when they start to lose faith in Moses and question what kind of God would bring them out into the wilderness just to let them starve to death, they begin to hedge their bets. They start to crave a god who will do what they want them to do.

The biblical witness tells us that when people start to take matters into their own hands, when they start to remake God in their image, God gets angry with them. And not just angry, but furious. So much so that in the passage we read two weeks ago, Moses has to convince God not to wipe the people out. You may remember that Moses won the argument, and the text tells us that God changes God’s mind about the fate of the people. But the story goes on.

In today’s passage, God is still mad, and so while God has decided not to destroy the people, neither does God want anything more to do with them. God tells Moses, “Fine, they can find their own way to the promised land. I am done with them.” Again, Moses intervenes—this time listening to both sides, like a mediator.

Here is how one commentator summarizes what happens: “By the end, God and Israel seem to accept one another as they are. The people confess they are stiff-necked, but God commits to being with them in spite of their shortcomings. Likewise, God reveals a divine Self that is anger as well as compassion. This relationship is messier than we might like, but God and the people remain together in the messiness, committed to a future together.”

That’s all well and good, but what are we to do with this mess? How does it help us in our faith today?

Rabbi, professor, and leader of the U.S. Civil Rights Movement, Abraham Joseph Heschel, distinguishes between the God of wrath and the wrath of God. He writes, “When I consider the violence my own country, my elected officials, and my tax dollars now inflict on the world, I think of divine wrath. Divine wrath is the cry of the mother whose child has gone to war, to prison, to poverty, to hatred. It is the ache in the heart of the universe—when love is mocked, when power crushes the weak, when truth is twisted into a weapon, when life is thrown away like trash.

“I am told that wrath is not the final story, that God does not give up on us. That beneath the fury, there remains love—fierce and aching. A love that grieves what could have been and should have been, and works toward what still can be, even amid the tragedy. But we must taste the wrath in order to know the hope. We must feel the burn of divine pain before we can feel the balm of promise.”

Passages like those we are reading in our Disputing with God series, like the one we have read today with Moses and God, show us that our relationship with God is not a one-way street, but God invites our whole selves, including our brains and our experiences, into the relationship. Look again at our passage. God is displeased with the people who think of God as a far-off dictator. God is pleased with Moses, who feels free to disagree with God. As Richard Rohr reminds us, “The people who know God well—mystics, hermits, prayerful people—always meet a lover, not a dictator.”

Friends, this summer I invite you to shed the image of God as a taskmaster in the sky, the god who cares more for formulas of sin and righteousness, the god who needs you to change before you can be loved and accepted.

Moses shows us that the God we find in the Bible is a God of relationship. It is the God who loves us. All of us. Period. No qualifications and explanations. That is the beginning and end of everything. In between, there is a whole lot that matters too. God does not want us causing harm to one another. God does not want us taking creation for granted or damaging the world we inhabit and on which we depend. God cares about these things not because God cares about some arbitrary rules, but because God cares about us, about how we live together and treat one another.

This type of faith may be messier than we would like. It does not offer the comfort of certainty. True faith humbles itself before a mystery. To paraphrase Paul, “It is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way.”

What I think we will notice as we continue this series of Disputing with God is that it is the image of God that we carry with us that needs to change. It is not God, but our version of God, that is the problem. The move, counterintuitively, may be toward more doubt and less certainty. After all, which takes more faith?

As Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, “Only an idol always answers.” The God of Moses, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of Jesus Christ, the God of you and me, is not an idol, but a partner. This God invites us into a relationship that is messy, yes, but is full of love and truth. Amen.

The post Disputing with God: Repairing Relationships appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Discussion Questions:

1. Recognizing Our Images of God:

• Pastor Mark says, “The god they proclaim is so often small and unworthy of the title.” What are some ways people, including ourselves, can make God too small?
• How can we tell the difference between the living God we encounter in scripture and an idol we have created in our own image?

2. Idolatry and Certainty:

• The sermon reflects on Barbara Brown Taylor’s line, “Only an idol always answers.” How does this challenge the desire for certainty in faith?
• Have you ever experienced a season when God felt silent, mysterious, or hard to understand? What did that season teach you?

3. Moses and Honest Relationship with God:

• In Exodus 33:1–23; 34:4–9, Moses argues with God and acts as a mediator for the people. What does this suggest about the kind of relationship God invites us into?
• Pastor Mark says, “God is pleased with Moses, who feels free to disagree with God.” How might disagreement, questioning, or wrestling become part of a faithful life?

4. Wrath, Compassion, and Repair:

• The sermon describes God’s anger not as fragile ego, but as grief over harm, injustice, and broken relationship. How does this change the way you understand divine wrath?
• What does it mean to say that God remains committed to relationship, even in the messiness?

5. Faith Beyond Formulas:

• Pastor Mark invites us to shed “the image of God as a taskmaster in the sky.” What images of God do you need to release in order to trust more deeply in God’s love?
• How does the idea that God loves us “period” — with no qualifications or explanations — shape the way we treat ourselves and others?

6. Applying the Sermon:

• This week, where might you practice a faith that is more honest, humble, and open to mystery?
• How can RPPC continue to be a community where people are free to ask questions, repair relationships, pursue justice, practice hospitality, and engage curious faith?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: Disputing with God: Repairing Relationships appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Our reading today is from Exodus 32.

Exodus 32:1-20 & 30-35

When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered around Aaron and said to him, “Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” Aaron said to them, “Take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters and bring them to me.” So all the people took off the gold rings from their ears and brought them to Aaron. He took these from them, formed them in a mold, and cast an image of a calf, and they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!” When Aaron saw this, he built an altar before it, and Aaron made a proclamation and said, “Tomorrow shall be a festival to the Lord.” They rose early the next day and offered burnt offerings and brought sacrifices of well-being, and the people sat down to eat and drink and rose up to revel.

The Lord said to Moses, “Go down at once! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely; they have been quick to turn aside from the way that I commanded them; they have cast for themselves an image of a calf and have worshiped it and sacrificed to it and said, ‘These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!’ ” The Lord said to Moses, “I have seen this people, how stiff-necked they are. Now let me alone so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them, and of you I will make a great nation.”

But Moses implored the Lord his God and said, “O Lord, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that he brought them out to kill them in the mountains and to consume them from the face of the earth’? Turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, how you swore to them by your own self, saying to them, ‘I will multiply your descendants like the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your descendants, and they shall inherit it forever.’ ” And the Lord changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people.

Then Moses turned and went down from the mountain, carrying the two tablets of the covenant in his hands, tablets that were written on both sides, written on the front and on the back. The tablets were the work of God, and the writing was the writing of God, engraved upon the tablets. When Joshua heard the noise of the people as they shouted, he said to Moses, “There is a noise of war in the camp.” But he said,

“It is not the sound made by victors
or the sound made by losers;
it is the sound of singing that I hear.”

As soon as he came near the camp and saw the calf and the dancing, Moses’s anger burned hot, and he threw the tablets from his hands and broke them at the foot of the mountain. He took the calf that they had made, burned it with fire, ground it to powder, scattered it on the water, and made the Israelites drink it.

On the next day Moses said to the people, “You have sinned a great sin. But now I will go up to the Lord; perhaps I can make atonement for your sin.” So Moses returned to the Lord and said, “Alas, this people has sinned a great sin; they have made for themselves gods of gold. But now, if you will only forgive their sin—but if not, please blot me out of the book that you have written.” But the Lord said to Moses, “Whoever has sinned against me I will blot out of my book. But now go, lead the people to the place about which I have spoken to you; see, my angel shall go in front of you. Nevertheless, when the day for punishment comes, I will punish them for their sin.”

Then the Lord sent a plague on the people, because they made the calf—the one that Aaron had made.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

There is an old Jewish teaching, which is almost like a koan. You all know what a koan is right? In Zen Buddhism, a koan is a thought or question which has no real answer, but which helps your mind concentrate and focus. The classic example is What is the sound of one hand clapping? Though koans are usually more profound than corny.  So the ancient rabbis, their koan, they wondered if God prays? And if so, what is it that God prays for?

But instead of leaving this koan unanswered, the rabbis attempt to fill in the blank. Their answer? God prays that God’s own mercy will outweigh and outlast God’s anger.

We see the struggle between divine mercy and divine anger in today’s passage. Moses, who at God’s sending, helped free the people from captivity in Egypt, led them out into the wilderness, has gone off on some sort of silent retreat. But really, we know that he is up the mountain receiving the Torah, the ten commandments from God. The rabbis say that the Torah is a gift of love from God to God’s people, but like an impatient child at Christmas or their birthday, the people can’t wait to open their gift. Actually, it is really Moses that they are missing. After all, it is Moses who has led them all this way.

Well, again, it is God through Moses, but practically speaking Moses is their connection to God. To them, no Moses, no God. And Moses has left them on their own for 40 days. One ancient commentator postulated, “How late was Moses after 40 days?” Six hours! Just six hours!

They have only been waiting six hours before they lose their ever-loving minds. But that just shows their level of anticipation, their level of dependence on Moses. And so fearing that Moses, and by proxy God, has permanently abandoned them after only six hours, they seek comfort in the next best thing, Moses’ brother Aaron. They go to Aaron and say, “Come, make god’s for us.”

Now if we were to pause here and speculate about Aaron’s response, I am guessing most of us would say that Aaron would refuse their request, remind them that the God of Moses, of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the one true God, and that God alone, led them out of Egypt.

Instead, Aaron says, collect all your gold rings, all your gold jewelry and melt it down so we can build a golden statue. What? I mean, I get the impatience of the people. They only seem to have a tenuous grip on what is going on, but Aaron? Aaron is Moses’ brother; he is part of the inner circle. Surely, he should know better!

But before we throw Aaron under the bus too hard, let me point out one redeeming factor: the people ask Aaron to produce for them gods, the generic Elohim in Hebrew. Aaron responds with the name Adonai, which is a direct reference to the God of Moses. So essentially, Aaron consents to the overwhelming need of the people to connect with something greater, but he does not help them build a statue to replace God, rather he does so as a substitute for Moses.

You see, what Aaron fails to recognize is that God acts through people, not inanimate objects like statues, even statues made of gold. God has used Moses, but God can use Aaron too. God can use any of us.

One of the fundamental claims of our faith is that God chooses not to be God without us. Presumably God could have. God didn’t have to create all that is, but God chose to. God could have just created beings which would do God’s will, no questions asked, but God chose to create beings that are free to make their own choices, free to experience joy and pain, love and loss.

Too often life makes us question, what kind of God would allow innocent people to suffer, children to die, disease, war, violence? What kind of God? The only answer I know to that question, and I admit it is not the one we are looking for, one that brings great comfort, is that it is a God who doesn’t want robots as children, but is willing to risk giving us freedom, which means the freedom to experience all the ups and downs. Because love is not love if it is forced or coerced.

So really, in this story, what we have is the sting and pain of rejection that God feels when the people God has chosen, so quickly abandon them and seek comfort elsewhere. The text tells us that God speaks to Moses saying, “I have seen this people, how stiff-necked they are. Now let me alone so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them, and of you I will make a great nation.”

There is a lot going on in this short passage. God is clearly upset. We get that. But then God tells Moses to leave God alone so that God’s wrath may burn hot. In other words, God knows that Moses will try to talk God out of it. But not only does God tell Moses to leave them along, God makes Moses an offer. If Moses lets him wipe out the people again, like we are told happened in the great flood, God will appoint Moses as the new Noah, the new Abraham. He will raise up a new people, a new nation, through Moses. It is a temptation not unlike that which Jesus faces in the desert.

But Moses is the hero of this story. He refuses to give in to temptation. He refuses to leave God alone to stew in his anger. Moses argues with God and reminds God of God’s own compassion and mercy. And then we get this gold nugget: “And the Lord changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people.”

Moses won the argument. God is persuaded. Mercy wins. Love wins. Anger subsides. God’s own prayer is answered and God acts out of compassion, not judgment.

The picture that emerges from this text is that the relationship between God and humanity, between God and creation is much more of a two-way street than we may have been at first led to believe. If God chooses not to be God without us, if God wants a genuine, not forced or coerced relationship with us, if God gives us the freedom to choose, then God also chooses not to remain far off and distant. The god we first met, the god who is in charge of everything, and makes everything happen, who has us like puppets on a string, well it turns out, according to the biblical witness that this god may be as false as the golden calf the people built at the foot of Sinai. This god may be one we invented to absolve ourselves from responsibility. We say, God is in charge. God will fix it. If it happened, it must be God’s will. As pious as these sound, they are golden calves of our own making.

The true God, Adonai, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the God of Moses, the God of Jesus Christ, is not a bully or a tyrant, but a partner. And arguing with God, disputing with God, is not blasphemy, but the living out of that relationship. Notice who in the text argues with God. It is not, as we often suppose, those who are against God, those who are far off. It is Moses, God’s own right-hand man in this scene. The one closest to God, who trusts God. Disputing with God is a sign of faith!

What does God pray for? I might answer that question a little different than those ancient rabbis. I think God prays for us to love God and to love one another, the way that God loves us. And that, I believe, is beyond dispute. Amen.

The post Disputing with God ~ Appealing to God’s Mercy appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Discussion Questions:

1. Like-Hearted vs. Like-Minded

• Pastor Mark suggests that Paul’s call to “be of one mind” may be better understood as being “like-hearted” rather than “like-minded.” What differences do you see between those two ideas?
• Have you ever experienced a community where people didn’t agree on everything, but still deeply loved and supported one another? What made that possible?

2. Walking in Sync with Jesus

• Pastor Mark shares the image of the older couple walking perfectly in sync. What stood out to you about that story?
• In what ways does following Jesus require practice, patience, and walking together with others rather than striving for perfection alone?
• How might spiritual growth happen through companionship and shared experience rather than uniformity?

3. Power, Humility, and the Way of Jesus

• The sermon contrasts worldly power based on domination and force with the power revealed through Jesus’ humility and self-emptying love. Where do you see these competing visions of power in today’s world?
• Why do you think humility is often misunderstood as weakness? How does Jesus challenge that assumption?
• What does it mean to trust that “God does not work by force, but by attraction”?

4. Diversity and Faithful Disagreement

• Pastor Mark highlights the Presbyterian belief that “people of good conscience can disagree.” Why is that idea important in communities of faith?
• How can Christians remain united in love while holding different political, theological, or personal views?
• What practices help create healthy disagreement without division?

5. Living the Sermon

• Pastor Mark asks: “How little faith in God does it take to force our way on others?” What emotions or thoughts did that question stir in you?
• How can we become a community where “love and generosity and compassion rule, not power and force”?

What is one practical way you can walk more intentionally in the way of Jesus this week?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: Like-Hearted, Not Like-Minded appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Our reading today comes from Paul’s letter to the Philippians, chapter one.

A few weeks ago, we read from the book of Acts about when Paul and Silas visited Philippi in northern Greece, where they ran into some trouble, but ultimately ended up kind of winning some folks over. It is believed that the church in Philippi is among the first that Paul founded in Europe, and it was thought that that’s around the year 50.

Then scholars debate over whether it was a couple years later or a full decade later that Paul writes — as is his practice once he’s founded a church — he writes a letter, or multiple letters, to a particular church.

So this is the beginning of his letter to the church in Philippi:

Philippians 1: 1-18

Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus,

To all God’s holy people in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons:
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart and, whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God’s grace with me. God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.

Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear.

It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. The latter do so out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

You’d think that Paul wouldn’t remember Philippi so fondly. Last time he was there, a possessed woman would not leave him alone, and he was arrested and flogged in the public square, jailed overnight, and experienced an earthquake.

Paul could have spent his time complaining about his treatment during his stay there. But instead, he writes, “I thank God every time I remember you.”

Timothy Atkins Jones writes, “The exuberance of Paul’s gratitude flows from their history. He prays with joy because their relationship has endured many years of struggle.” Strangers have become friends. Even former opponents, such as his jailer, have become friends — and not just friends, but partners in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Atkins points out “the community has demonstrated their commitment to Paul by providing the resources necessary for his work. They’ve invested materially in Paul’s ministry. Beyond merely encouraging him in the good work, they underwrote it.”

And here, even as he writes, Paul is once again imprisoned. But as we have witnessed before, this does not slow him down or deter him.

When he was in Philippi and in prison with Silas, they prayed and sang hymns. They preached to their fellow prisoners. Now again in prison, Paul uses the time to write to the Christian community in Philippi, even as he preaches to his current captors.

Paul is singularly focused. Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard famously wrote that purity of heart is to will one thing.

Buddhist practitioner and teacher Bodhi Pascua writes, “To will one thing means to have a mind that is unifying around an organizing principle that gives our lives meaning.”

He writes, “I believe that we all attempt to find such an organizing principle. We choose one thing that is for us the most important thing in our lives.”

For Paul, it is preaching and spreading of the gospel. But he could not have done all of it on his own. Even the letter itself is not just from Paul, but from Paul and Timothy. Partnership in the gospel, as Paul calls it, is critical to his success.

Brené Brown writes, “To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees — these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain.”

She says, “But I’m learning that recognizing and leaning into discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy and gratitude and grace.”

This vulnerability, rooted in relationship, is how the Christian faith spread early on. Mennonite historian Alan Kreider wrote in his book The Patient Ferment of the Early Church that “the early Christians didn’t grow in number because they won arguments. Instead, they grew because their habitual behavior, rooted in patience, was distinctive and intriguing. Their “habitus,” as he calls it, enabled them to address intractable problems that ordinary people face in ways that offered hope.”

Here at RPPC, our affection for one another is not based on our like-mindedness or our similar socioeconomic standing. It is rooted in the gospel.

Recently, I was reflecting with a church member about our practice of passing the peace during service, and they confessed to me that they were unsure about this practice when it was first introduced. “That’s what fellowship time is for after service,” was a common objection.

And now, my goodness, I think if we allowed it, you all would go on for the rest of the service. Seeing that makes this pastor’s heart glad.

It has become, as Alan Kreider would say, part of our habit.

However, there is a danger to our mutual affection as well. We need always to stay mindful of guests and visitors, as well as the more introverted among us, who may not be as keen on the practice as the rest of us, because that’s part of what it means to be open and welcoming as well.

Marcus Borg points out that when we read Paul in Christian scripture, we are reading somebody else’s mail. We are eavesdropping on someone’s conversation.

Paul writes to the people in Philippi, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, and how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer: that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you determine what is best.”

These words of Paul expose his deep love and caring for the people of Philippi.

Today is Mother’s Day, a day to celebrate and acknowledge maternal love and sacrifice.

Now, you may have noticed that today’s service is much like that of any other Sunday, and some may be disappointed in this fact. I will admit this is something that I wrestle with. How much do we acknowledge secular holidays like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and the Fourth of July, Memorial Day?

To completely ignore them seems kind of tone deaf. But on the other hand, to center our worship around them is extremely problematic.

I know people who purposely choose not to come to church on Mother’s Day because it’s complicated. Or the Fourth, because the mixing of faith and patriotism makes their stomach turn.

And I get that.

But let me tell you, this sensitivity is not what some might call political correctness run amok. It is also a part of our love for one another. It is also part of our mutual affection. We make room for those whose experiences and thinking are different than our own.

And here’s the key point: this does not impoverish us. It enriches us.

Frederick Collins writes, “There are two types of people: those who come in a room and say, ‘Here I am,’ and those who come in the room and say, ‘Ah, there you are.’”

Making room for the other is not a membership strategy. It is the call of the gospel.

Paul began as an outsider. He reminds us often that he used to persecute Christians until he had an experience of the love of God in Christ Jesus that transformed him. But he never lost that perspective of what it means to be an outsider, and neither should we.

Last Sunday we began celebrating our 125th anniversary as a congregation. At times like this, it’s customary to look back on our history and give thanks to the saints of the past, and we will certainly do that. But along with that, we need to be mindful of the saints of the present, as well as those of the future.

We also need not gloss over the parts of our history which we would rather leave in the past. Our faith calls us to be honest with ourselves and with God. That’s why we practice confession, because without confession, forgiveness and repair cannot occur.

Friends, to love one another as Christ loves us is not easy. It was not easy in Paul’s time, and it’s not easy in ours. There are many forces that want to divide us. It takes time, energy, and commitment to create the beloved community.

But as Brené Brown points out, recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy and gratitude and grace.

So friends, my prayer is that we too may grow in love and mutual affection together, but also that we may never lose the perspective of what it means to be an outsider or newcomer to the community.

In other words, may we be the type of community that doesn’t say, “Here I am,” but proclaims, “Aw, there you are.”

Amen.

The post Partners in the Gospel appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Discussion Questions:

1. Partnership in the Gospel

• Pastor Mark reflects on Paul’s deep affection for the church in Philippi despite the hardships he experienced there. What do you think made that relationship so meaningful to Paul?
• Paul describes the Philippians as his “partners in the gospel.” What does true partnership in faith look like today?
• Have you ever experienced a community that supported you spiritually, emotionally, or materially during a difficult season? What made that support meaningful?

2. Vulnerability and Christian Community

• The sermon quotes Brené Brown’s observation that vulnerability is connected to joy, gratitude, and grace. Why do you think vulnerability is necessary for authentic community?
• What risks are involved in loving others deeply or allowing yourself to be known by a community?
• How can churches create spaces where people feel safe bringing their whole selves — including doubts, grief, questions, and struggles?

3. Hospitality and Welcoming Others

• Pastor Mark describes the importance of making room for guests, newcomers, and introverts within the life of the church. Why can this sometimes be difficult for established communities?
• The sermon contrasts two ways of entering a room: “Here I am” versus “Ah, there you are.” What is the difference between those two postures?
• When have you experienced radical welcome or hospitality in a faith community? How did it affect you?

4. Remembering the Outsider

• Paul never forgot what it meant to be an outsider before encountering the love of Christ. Why is it important for churches to remember the perspective of newcomers and outsiders?
• Pastor Mark says that making room for people with different experiences and perspectives does not impoverish a community — it enriches it. How have you seen diversity of experience strengthen a church or community?
• Are there ways churches unintentionally make people feel excluded or unseen? What changes can help create deeper belonging?

5. Beloved Community and Honest Faith

• The sermon reminds us that confession is necessary because “without confession, forgiveness and repair cannot occur.” Why is honesty about our failures important for spiritual growth?
• As RPPC celebrates 125 years, Pastor Mark encourages both gratitude for the past and honesty about the parts of history we might rather avoid. Why is this balance important for communities of faith?
• What does it mean to you to help build “the beloved community” in today’s divided world?

6. Applying the Sermon

• What is one concrete way you can practice hospitality or make room for someone this week?
• How can we become the kind of church community that says, “Ah, there you are” to those who walk through our doors?
• What part of this sermon challenged or encouraged you most personally?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: Partners in the Gospel appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Fittingly, as we are celebrating the anniversary of this particular congregation we are now in the readings of the early earliest Christians the earliest followers of Jesus as they began to form communities and hash out their differences and what they would look like and all of those things in the book of Acts. We’ve been in this book a couple weeks now It’s kind of like the journal of the earliest apostles. Starting next week, we’re going to start to read some of Paul’s mail in his various writings to the various communities that he’s founded, and we’ll be in Philippians next week. But today, we encounter Paul once again in Acts is in another location in Greece:

Acts 17: 16-34

While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to see that the city was full of idols. So he argued in the synagogue with the Jews and the devout persons and also in the marketplace every day with those who happened to be there. Also some Epicurean and Stoic philosophers debated with him. Some said, “What does this pretentious babbler want to say?” Others said, “He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign divinities.” (This was because he was telling the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) So they took him and brought him to the Areopagus and asked him, “May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.” Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new. 

Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely spiritual you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all peoples to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps fumble about for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said, 

     ‘For we, too, are his offspring.’ 

“Since we are God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the deity is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals. While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.” 

When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some scoffed, but others said, “We will hear you again about this.” At that point Paul left them. But some of them joined him and became believers, including Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris and others with them. 

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

Well, last week Paul was in Philippi with his buddy Silas, and they were getting into trouble. This week Paul is on his own in Athens and seemingly in a much better mood. As Bobby Williamson puts it, though he’s upset by their use of idols, this distress doesn’t lead our notoriously hot-headed Paul to smash any idols or overturn any tables. He goes instead into conversation with a wide range of people. He is curious about their culture and their religious practices. He seeks to find common ground but isn’t afraid to point out when there are real differences. Honestly, this is like a master class in interfaith dialogue, up until the point at the end where Paul blows it by telling them that God is growing impatient with their ignorance and will soon judge them lacking if they don’t convert.

But honestly, we could argue that the Athenians impacted Paul as much as he impacted them. And that’s a good mark of a healthy and productive interfaith dialogue. But it’s clear from Paul’s later writings that he has incorporated some Greek philosophical concepts into his theology, so much so that I think to say that had Paul not stopped by Athens, Christian theology might be very, very different.

Now, really, we can say that about just about anything. There’s this Doctor Who episode called Turn Left. In the episode explores the different paths a person’s life would take if they turned left instead of right at an intersection. And not only their life, but the lives of those around them, as well as following generations.

Really, when we think about it, our whole existence hangs on threads of chance. Countless things had to fall into place just for us to be here. It’s just one different choice, a left turn instead of a right, perhaps, and poof. But we are here, thanks be to God. And Paul did go to Athens and changed them, even as he himself was changed.

And I think that’s a really important lesson for us.

You see, faith is not static. It grows, it evolves, it changes. It can take in new information, and you blend the old with the new, and it becomes something else altogether. In his book, Reading the Bible Again for the First Time, Marcus Borg writes, “The way of Jesus is not a set of beliefs. That people ever thought it was is strange when we think about it, as if one entered new life by believing certain things to be true, or as if the only people who can be saved are those who know the word Jesus. Thinking that way virtually amounts to salvation by syllables. Rather, the way of Jesus is the way of death and resurrection, the path of transition and transformation from an old way of being to a new way of being.”

So really, if we think about it, all we can have is a living, evolving, growing, changing faith. It should be of absolutely no surprise to us that what we were taught in Sunday school as children does not sustain us later in life. We would never be surprised in any other area, would we? But it’s the foundation from which we can grow. It’s the foundation from which our faith evolves. And the same can be said of communities of faith as well.

Today, we celebrate our 125th anniversary as Roland Park Presbyterian Church. And I want to just read you a bit from our website of how our story began.

On May 8, 1900, 11 men and 10 women met in the home of John T. Hill to discuss the idea of forming a Presbyterian church in the then-new Roland Park neighborhood of Baltimore. A committee of five was formed to look into this matter, and seven weeks later, on Thursday, June business and social meeting of local Presbyterians was held in the Women’s Club Room on the second floor of the Roland Park Shopping Center, which is still across the street.

The committee reported that arrangements could be made for the use of the Women’s Club Room for the morning and evening services at the cost of $3 per Sunday, including the use of the piano, organ, and lights. It was felt that a minister could be secured for an annual salary of $1000.

And a building could be obtained at a discount from the Roland Park Company. Plans were presented for a stone structure that could be built for $10,000. The committee continued to work through the summer. On October 4th, arrangements were concluded with the Reverend John Walkup Douglas, who began his ministry at Roland Park on the first Sunday of November. Meanwhile, the Sunday school began on October 21st with John T. Hill as its first superintendent. The Sabbath school, as it was first termed, was held before church with separate classes for boys and girls.

The cornerstone of the church was laid on July 10th. Seventeen months later, on December 6, 1902, dedication services were held. The original sanctuary of the church was done in an auditorium style with a sloping floor and no center aisle. There was a central pulpit, behind which was the choir and an organ console. Throughout these early years, the First Presbyterian Church downtown, which has now become First and Franklin Presbyterian Church, maintained a strong interest in encouraging the new Roland Park church, including an annual contribution.

Pretty cool, huh?

But again, just one different decision and we might not be here, or we might be in a different location. And the same could be said for all of the 125 intervening years. We have been sustained by the decisions and support and prayers and acts of service and faithfulness of so many.

One that stands out to me is Joe Day. Joe was a member of our church when I arrived here. He was an older gentleman. He had sung in the choir for many, many years. But by the time I got to know him, he’d retired from the choir.

What I remember about Joe was his kindness to me. Just about every Sunday he was here, as he was leaving, he would greet me after church and he would say something like, “You sure are a young man, but you’re our pastor.”

This was an affirmation and I took it as such. Joe was one of those memorable, memorable individuals, and when he passed, we grieved our loss.

About six months later, we received a letter. It was from Joe’s attorney, informing us that we were one of two benefactors in his will, the other being his sister. Joe left the church a very generous bequest.

When I informed the session of this, I will never forget the looks on everyone’s face. Because you see, Joe was not a wealthy man. He didn’t have a lot of family. He drove a modest car, lived in a modest apartment, and died in a modest nursing home. He gave no indication that he had the sort of means to leave a gift to the church.

But to Joe, we were his family. And people were touched. And beyond that, they were moved and inspired. And I tell you this because, in my estimation, that was the moment that we started to understand who we are as a small congregation and that we could do great things even though we have limited resources.

His gift, among others, was an impetus for forming our master plan, which eventually led to one renovation, and then to another, which we just completed. It’s not technically done yet, but almost. And so from one point of view, in a very real sense, all that we’ve done since, we can trace to Joe’s gift, given to his church family who loved him and whom he loved.

Now, of course, we could tell this story dozens of times over about others in our congregation, past and present. That’s one of the beauties of a small congregation. Those contributions, whether financial or of self, are so impactful. And we know there have been other gifts since, maybe larger in size. But you see, Joe didn’t have a lot of people to remember him, except for us.

So I thought it was appropriate to remember him this day and say, thank you, Joe. Your memory is a blessing, as is the memory of so many other names who may be running through our minds right now.

You see, we are blessed beyond measure to inherit this place, this mission from those who have gone before us. And we have our opportunity to make our contribution before we pass it on to the next generation.

And so continues the story of transformation, death, resurrection, the old and new coming together to create something that’s never been before.

So friends, as we come to this table today, I invite you to bring someone with you. If you’ve been a member of this congregation for a time, I invite you to bring a dearly departed one like Joe with you. And if you haven’t been here that long, I invite you to bring someone from your own life whose memory is a blessing. And I invite us all to think about all the people in 125 years who have gathered around this table before us, as well as those who will gather around it after us.

Just one different choice, one different turn, and we might not be here, but by the grace of God we are. As Frederick Buechner reminds us, “The grace of God means something like, here is your life. You might never have been, but you are, because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It is for you that I created the universe. I love you.”

Friends, isn’t that good news?

Happy 125th, Roland Park Presbyterian Church. Let us come to the table of grace once again. Amen.

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Our passage today is from John, chapter 18. This is the beginning of a rather lengthy part of John that concentrates on the arrest and trial of Jesus. It won’t surprise you that John spends the most time here as compared to the other gospel writers. It goes into a lot more detail and a lot more explanation. And so, actually, we’re going to be reading the trial over the next several weeks.

So, John chapter 18:

John 18: 12-27

So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people. 

Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing around it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself. 

Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, “I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.” When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest. 

Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, “You are not also one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

We love to point fingers, don’t we? To assign blame.

The Gospel writer John—we’ve talked about it—he likes to blame “the Jews.” And let’s be clear and not apologize for the text: John, the gospel writer, is wrong in this instance. He’s too caught up in the current events of his own day.

Now, if you’ve been around here for a while, you’ve probably heard me give context to John’s problematic use of the label “the Jews.” You’ve probably heard me say that by this, John does not mean that all Jewish people of all times and places. That’s just ridiculous, right? He probably doesn’t even mean all Jewish people of his time and place.

When he uses the label “the Jews,” John is most likely referring to those in power—the religious authorities—which is why I usually retranslate it that way. In other words, he is talking about people like me.

But it is also true that sometimes John, when he uses this label “the Jews,” just means the crowd of ordinary Jewish people who are pawns in the leaders’ power games. And it is less clear how John feels about them, but he seems to view them with a mixture of pity and disdain for being so easily manipulated by those in charge.

If the gospel writer John were on Facebook and he had to declare a relationship status with “the Jews,” it would definitely read: It’s complicated.

But what is also undeniable is that John, the gospel writer, has been used for centuries by those who want to point the finger and blame somebody.

Last week in the sermon I talked about the sin of racism. Some have called that America’s original sin.

Well, perhaps anti-Semitism is Christianity’s.

And so let me be clear: it is wrong, and there is never, ever, ever any excuse for it. Period.

But still, we love to point the finger, don’t we?

And today, the finger in the text seems to be pointing not just at those who oppose Jesus, but at those who are supposed to stand with him but seemingly fail to find the courage needed to do so.

As we’ve been talking about for a few weeks now, John really slows down the narrative for the last week of Jesus’ life. He wants us to pay attention, to savor every detail, not just read it but immerse ourselves in it—to feel the tension in the room, to smell the charcoal fire burning, to feel the chilly night air, and to endure those awkward silences after Peter denies knowing Jesus.

We are invited to imagine what Simon Peter is feeling as he denies knowing his teacher and friend. To hear the strain in his voice, then watch his head drop in private shame as he realizes what he’s done.

In other versions, the rooster is there to cue him. “Before the rooster crows three times, you will deny me,” Jesus warns him.

But in John’s gospel, did you notice? No such warning is offered. And we aren’t even told if Simon Peter knows that it has crowed. But it’s our cue.

John doesn’t want us to miss it.

He wants to keep us here until we become uncomfortable. He’s making a point, and it’s not so subtle once we get past all the finger-pointing and assigning of blame.

John wants us to ask ourselves: Where do you stand?

Peter ultimately fails to stand with Jesus in this moment.

Now, I’ve always stopped here with this passage, as have most of the sermons I’ve heard preached on it. But you know, this week the Holy Spirit must have nudged me just a little bit harder, because I finally realized that someone else is standing in this passage.

And ultimately, I think this is the one that John hopes we will mind above all others.

Jesus is on trial for his life. His words and actions have put the religious authorities between a rock and a hard place.

The Romans want peace—but not the kind of peace the Bible talks about. Not shalom. Not wholeness and justice for all. The Romans want the kind of peace that all empires want: the peace of compliance.

The Romans want the kind of peace that you have to fight for, the kind of peace that comes through the threat of mutually assured destruction, the kind of peace you get with a sword, or a gun, or a bomb.

And you see, Jesus is a threat to that peace by telling the people that God is ultimately in charge, not the emperor. By telling the orphan and the widow that they are made in the image of God and deserving of grace.

Jesus threatens the Roman peace by convincing the people of this backwater town in Israel that they are God’s chosen people—a holy priesthood.

And so the religious authorities really just need Jesus to shut up.

Because the wrath of the Romans isn’t discerning. If they can’t quiet Jesus, they will all suffer the consequences. And so Caiaphas starts spreading the news: it’s better for one to die than for all of us to go down with him.

And so there he stands in the middle of it all: the scapegoat.

Jesus: calm, collected, self-assured. Not casting blame on anyone. Remaining utterly committed to nonviolence, and with absolute trust in God’s love, justice, and peace that they will finally prevail.

And I think that’s what John really wants us to see—not the brutal force of the Romans, not the treachery of those trying to protect only themselves and their interests, not even poor old Simon Peter.

John wants us to see where Jesus stands.

He invites us to slow down and consider his stance, and to ponder another way—the way of Jesus, the way of peace and justice together, the way of love.

That’s love the verb, not the noun.

“No one kills with more passion than those who believe God is on their side,” writes Shane Claiborne. “Every major religion has been distorted by folks who want to justify their hatred, camouflage their bigotry.

And Christians are not exempt.

Right now, people who claim to be Christians are promoting unimaginable violence at home and abroad.

It is evil. It is wicked. And it is an offense to God.”

Claiborne calls us to rebuke this violent perversion of our faith in the name of Jesus. “Let us do all we can to stop it,” he writes. “The world will know we are Christians by our love.” He points out the word Christian means Christ-like. “Jesus is the Prince of Peace. He blessed the peacemakers and commanded us all to love our enemies. He rebuked his disciples when they resorted to violence, and he insisted that when we live by the sword, we die by the sword. Jesus carried a cross, not a sword. And he died with mercy on his lips. That is our Savior.”

And in this way, in this passage, Jesus offers us both a promise and a question. The promise is that he will not abandon us in our own time of trial. He will stand with us. We are never completely on our own. But the question that he asks us in return is this: Will we stand with him in the work of peace and justice? Will we stand with those that Jesus stands with—the oppressed, the victims?

Where will we stand?

Amen.

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Sometimes time just flies, doesn’t it? Right? How is it March 1st already? Wasn’t Christmas just a couple of weeks ago? Other times, time slows to a crawl.

Last Sunday after church, my son and I raced home, packed our bags, and headed off to the airport. Our flight to make a final college visit wasn’t scheduled to take off until six, but the weather reports and the notices from the airline suggested that arriving early would be a good idea. So we did.

Sitting at that gate, I must have checked my phone about every minute over the next two hours for updates about the flight. Is it on time? Will we make our appointment and our tour the next day in Florida? Time slowed exponentially as we waited. Then, 30 minutes before boarding, I got the ping: “Your flight has been canceled. We rebooked you for the next available flight, 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

Considering the forecast and the time of night, we decided to find a room in a hotel near the airport and get the shuttle for our early morning flight. So that’s what we did. Woke up at 3:30, caught the shuttle at 4 a.m., boarded at 5:30, wheels up at 6. And so I’m here to tell you, you can leave Baltimore at six in the morning, fly to Orlando, drive to Daytona, and make the 11 a.m. tour with two minutes to spare. Still, those 12 hours felt like 12 days.

Sometimes time flies. Other times, it slows to a crawl. The gospel writer John knows this to be true.

The first 11 chapters of his gospel cover a span of more than two years. But from chapter 12 on, it is just one week and change — the last week of Jesus’ life, what we typically observe during Holy Week. But John wants to slow time down.

He wants us to spend more time here, to pay attention, to slow down, to notice every detail, every morsel of this beautiful life that is about to be extinguished before our very eyes. Our reading today is from John chapter 13.

John 13: 1-17

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had reclined again, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, slaves are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

The story we just read is steeped in relationship, observes Amy Robertson — Jesus’ relationship to God as he prepares to return to God, and Jesus’ deep connection to the people who are with him on earth.

How do these things fit together? Why does Jesus’ awareness of the power he derives from his relationship to God cause him to disrobe and don a towel and wash the feet of his students? Is this about cleaning or hospitality? And how exactly does this prepare them for what is to come?

This matches what we’ve been noticing about the unique way that John tells the gospel story through the lens of relationships that Jesus formed here on earth. We, of course, have the disciples, but then we have Nicodemus, and the woman at the well, and the man born blind. And of course, last week we had Lazarus, who we are told Jesus loved, and whose death caused Jesus to weep.

Our passage today begins with John letting us know that Jesus is fully aware that his life is about to end. If you knew you had only a few days left, what would you tell your family and loved ones?

What wisdom, advice, what message would you impart?

We spend our lives running from our mortality, but when the curtain is drawing closed, how will our perspective shift? What one or two essential things will rise to the top of all the important things that fill our lives?

I’ve not been in that position myself, but like all of us, I’ve thought about it. And you know, I just can’t imagine giving one lick about success or fame or wealth or possessions.

I imagine, like most of us, it will be the relationships that rise to the top — the loved ones that went before us and those that will carry on after we are gone. That’s what will matter most. That is what will be most cherished.

So too it is with Jesus. He wants to make sure his friends know that he loves them, and he wants them to love and care for one another in the way that he has shown them.

And he doesn’t communicate this with mere words, but with himself, with his actions. He gets down and washes their feet.

Now, it’s worth stating that what is shocking or unsettling to you and me about Jesus washing his friends’ feet is not what would have been surprising for Jesus’ contemporaries — mainly because foot washing is not really a thing we do.

But in the ancient world, foot washing was a necessary act simply because they walked around in the dirt and the mud and the who-knows-what in mere sandals and bare feet. So each home had a basin and a cloth by the front door for guests to wash their feet. And in the nicer homes, they would have somebody there to do it for you as you entered.

Now, what is shocking about this scene is that socially speaking, Jesus is not their servant, but their teacher and master. And so, like the tables he turns over in the temple, Jesus flips the power dynamics in the room, submitting himself. And furthermore, he does this as an example for us to follow.

Simon Peter, ever the one to say what we’re all thinking out loud, says to Jesus, “You’ll never wash me, Lord.” Perhaps thinking that this is how Jesus really wants him to respond — you know, like it was a test.

But no. Jesus reiterates what he’s doing. Then, sensing he had misread the cue, Simon Peter goes full-on in the other direction: “Okay, wash all of me.”

Jesus again tells Simon he’s missing the point. Calm down.

John isn’t asking us to look down on Simon Peter. Rather, John invites us to see ourselves in him — in all the ways that we try to obfuscate and complicate something that’s really very simple. I mean, Jesus’ message cannot be more clear and straightforward: take care of one another.

Look after each other. The way I’ve shown you, love one another as I have loved you.

The message is simple. It’s the living it out that’s the challenge.

And too often we treat each other as a means to an end, as a tool that we can manipulate, as a resource to be exploited or used — not as fellow travelers on the journey of life, not as companions, partners, teammates, friends.

Fellow children of God.

And we don’t even have to leave our passage for today to see an example of this.

Judas plays the villain in the story — we all know that — and we treat him as a convenient scapegoat so we don’t have to face all the ways that we have betrayed Jesus and our loved ones. But just as Simon Peter gives voice to our thoughts, Judas shows us the damage that can be caused when we value money, or a cause, or whatever, over the person who is right in front of us.

But let us not mistake our judgment and condemnation of Judas for that of the text — certainly not that of Jesus himself. Clearly, all the gospel writers are uncomfortable with Judas and his role, and they don’t quite know what to do with him.

But one thing they do not do is show Jesus condemning him the way history has.

Now, we often talk about using our theological imagination. This is a great place to do it.

We can use our theological imagination to consider how Jesus might respond to Judas’ betrayal — and how that response might differ from our own.

I picture — this is not going to be surprising to some of you — I picture one of my favorite scenes from the long-running British TV show Doctor Who. In it, the main character, the Doctor, is betrayed by his closest friend and companion. She does it for what she truly believes are good reasons, but nonetheless, it’s a betrayal.

And when things finally come to a head and she breaks down, begging for forgiveness but not expecting it, finally the Doctor speaks and says, “Do you think I love you so little that betraying me would make a difference?”

Or I think of a song from my favorite band, the Irish rock band U2. The song is called “Until the End of the World.” And it’s written from the perspective of Judas in the aftermath of his betrayal. The lyrics begin, “Haven’t seen you in quite a while, I was down the hold, just passing time.” It then goes on to describe the events that happened in the upper room that we just read about — Judas’ betrayal of his rabbi and friend.

And the final verse of the song is Judas encountering Jesus in a dream, and it goes like this:

In my dream I was drowning my sorrows,
But my sorrows they learned to swim,
Surrounding me, going down on me, spilling over the brim.
Waves of regret, waves of joy.
I reached out for the one I tried to destroy.
And you, you said you’d wait until the end of the world.

Friends, can we imagine a love that is stronger than all the ways that we try to betray and deny it? Can we imagine a love big enough to show us hospitality and acceptance? Can we imagine a love that will wait until the end of the world for us?

Not only can we imagine it — we have it right before us in the person of Jesus, inviting us to live differently, to live nonviolently, to live with compassion for all, to work toward justice — not our own self-interests.

We have the living example of one who, as Barbara Brown Taylor puts it, “was fully who God created him to be every day of his life; who loved God with all of his heart, with all of his soul, with all of his strength, with all of his mind; and who loved his friends so much that he stepped into the oncoming traffic of death in order to push them out of the way.

And he furthermore did it with no more than the basic human equipment — a beating heart, two good hands, a holy vision, and some companions who could see it too — thereby showing the rest of us humans that such a life is not beyond our reach.”

Lent is here, friends.

It’s time to slow down. Pay attention. To remember that the holy and sacred is not in some far-off heaven, but sitting right next to us, sharing the same air, the same earth, the same love.

Take care of one another, Jesus says.

Love one another as I have loved you.

It’s really just that simple. And it’s really just that hard.

Friends, today after worship we have a unique and historic opportunity to participate in the love and justice of Jesus. We know too well the damage and devastation and loss of life and liberty that has been caused by the sin of racism.

We know that racism is not merely a posture of the heart — that some lives have more value than others — but has infiltrated just about every aspect of our common lives. We call these things systemic and systematic racism. They are real, and they cause real harm — not just historically, but here and now.

We live in a city where structures and roads and neighborhood planning have all conspired to privilege some over others. Our economic and civic institutions, too, have prejudice and bias baked into them in ways that you and I, as individuals, cannot fix on our own, but nonetheless require our action and our attention.

Friends, the cause of justice is not hopeless, even though it’s not easy.

It requires many of us — particularly those of us who are white — to reorder our own lives and repair our own hearts and minds. The work is called reparative justice, and we’re going to talk about it — about the need for it, as well as the hope of it. So I hope you’ll join us today.

Because I want us to see this for the wonderful and holy opportunity that it is — a chance for us to participate in the repairing of the world right here in Baltimore.

Friends, this work is more than just and right. It is indeed holy work. It is the very living out of Jesus’ last instruction to his disciples: take care of each other. Love one another as I have loved you.

Because it’s only this kind of love — love that welcomes, love that serves, love that leads to justice — that will repair not only the world, but our own hearts as well.

Amen.

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