Author: harryjheintz

[This message from Mark 9:2-9, the transfiguration of Jesus, was delivered at John Calvin Presbyterian Church in Henrietta, NY, on 2/11/24.]

I watched the Grammy awards show last Sunday night. I don’t keep up with a lot of music trends these days. Didn’t hip-hop start two or three years ago? When I am driving by myself, I tend to listen to Tony Bennett, Nat King Cole, and the Carpenters. So I watch the Grammys to get a glimpse of the music and musicians I don’t know well or at all. From everything I hear and read, I like Taylor Swift, but I can’t hum a tune of anything she has recorded. (Do you think she’ll be at that football game today?) Little did I know that the highlight of the Grammys for me would be 80-year old Joni Mitchell singing her classic, “Both Sides Now.” It was beautiful and emotional. And I could quietly sing along:

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all

Now I can see Peter, James, and John (perhaps the forerunners of Peter, Paul, and Mary) singing those words as a cloud envelopes a mountain on which they have just seen something spectacular. This happens in the middle of Mark’s gospel. It becomes a hinge; a turning point, and a curious event.

Mark is the first and the shortest gospel account. It doesn’t give us as much info as Matthew, Luke, and John. This heightens our interest in what Mark includes. In Mark there are two important sets of threes. First, there are three great affirmations about who Jesus is:

–At the beginning as Jesus is baptized, And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (1:11);

–At the end as he is crucified, Now when the centurion who stood facing him saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!” (15:39);

–And in the middle as he is transfigured, Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (9:7).

In the middle chapters of Mark, Jesus speaks three times of himself and what lay ahead around the bend in Jerusalem:

8:31—Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes and be killed and after three days rise again.

9:31—“The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” 

10:33-34—“Look, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the gentiles;they will mock him and spit upon him and flog him and kill him, and after three days he will rise again.”

The transfiguration happens in the middle and, frankly, it doesn’t seem necessary. John’s gospel doesn’t even mention it. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, where he will be betrayed, suffer, die, and be raised again on the third day. Take out the transfiguration and the story continues. The ultimate drama will be that week in Jerusalem beginning with palm branches and a borrowed donkey and ending with the crucifixion, burial, and rising. We still have the teachings, the healings and other miracles, and the parables. The transfiguration is a rather intimate affair. Jesus takes just three of the twelve with him. It lasts just a few hours, if that. Two long dead saints make cameo appearances and speak with Jesus, but we have no idea what they say. Jesus even says, “Don’t tell anyone yet.”

Peter—I love Peter the entrepreneur—has a wild idea: let’s build three shelters, one for Moses, one for Elijah, and one larger and in the center for Jesus. Maybe Peter also is thinking of a parking lot and a visitors’ center, with souvenirs, clean rest rooms, and snacks. Centuries later, American Christians could visit when they go on a once in a lifetime trip to the Holy Land. That idea is shot down and never mentioned again. The word spoken from the cloud to Peter, James, and John is the needed word: Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.  

Why this seemingly unnecessary story? Maybe because Jesus knew precisely the suffering that was just around the corner and needed a glimpse of the glory that was coming. Don’t we all need moments of encouragement that remind us a brighter day coming? When the present circumstances are difficult, don’t we all need a glimpse of a better future?

And then it is time for Peter, James, and John—and Jesus—to go down the mountain to the journey before them. A climber is much more likely to get injured descending a mountain rather than ascending it. Be careful descending. And listen for Jesus speaking, both in the cloud and beyond. I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now . . ..

I had an experience in a cloud last summer on Lake Pleasant in the Adirondacks. When I vacation there, my goal is to sail my little sunfish every day multiple times. Monday started foggy and stayed foggy longer than usual. We were playing some board games with friends in a cabin with a lake view but we couldn’t even see the lake. Then I saw a patch of blue in the sky. That was enough for me. I stood and said, I’m going sailing. Anyone want to join me? A new friend, a young man that had never sailed, said yes. Off we went. After about 5 minutes, a thick cloud of fog descended on the lake. We could see nothing but the water right next to us. Though the shore line couldn’t have been more than a half mile from us, we couldn’t see any shore. We couldn’t see any trees. If we could spot the sun, I would have my orientation. I couldn’t see the sun. “Liam, find the sun while I keep us upright.” He couldn’t find the sun. I was so disoriented, the boat overturned. Liam and I climbed back on board and found some wind, but I had no idea what direction we were going. There were no other boats on the lake. It was the two of us on a little sailboat totally disoriented. Then we heard some noise. Be quiet. Listen. We heard the voices of children playing. That meant we were near a beach, probably the beach from which we set out. Listen to the voices; they will get us to shore. The cloud bank was thick as soup, but we could follow the voices. As I steered the boat toward the voices, they got stronger. We knew we were heading in the right direction, though all we could see was a cloud of thick fog. Within a few minutes, we saw children playing in the water, fuzzy at first, and sailed back to the beach. The only way we got there was by listening.

Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.  

In three days we begin our Lenten season on Ash Wednesday. How will you keep Lent? I adopt several disciplines for my life each Lent. Let’s agree on this one: we will work at listening to the Lord. How will that work for you? I suggest setting a time, roughly the same time, each day to shut out all noise and listen for God’s whispers. That time could be in a favorite chair, indoors or out. Or on a quiet walk in a quiet place. “This is the Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”

  [This message was delivered at the Community of the Savior, Rochester, NY, on 12/31/23, based on Luke 2:22-40. It can be viewed on the Community of the Savior Facebook page. Note that the message includes sections of the song “A Baby Changes Everything,” written by Craig Wiseman and Tim Nichols and sung by Teressa Bala, my daughter. I wrote the brief verse in the middle of the sermon.]

       

The season of signs is not over. The birth has happened, that star over Bethlehem is yet to come. Between the sign of the manger and the sign of the star, there is a visit to the temple, itself a sign, though most unusual. In Advent we heard again those ancient prophetic words: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14) A sign.

We have had a big sign on the brick wall rising above our entrance doors, telling of the Christmas Eve worship services. Some people came here last Sunday because of that sign.

An old country pastor needed to have a sign made that would tell the people passing the church building about the wonder of Christmas. He lived out of town and did not have access to any of the modern electronic conveniences. He went to the sign maker in town and said he didn’t have much of a budget, so he said to make the sign exactly as I have written it here. The sign arrived before Christmas Eve and he hung it on the side of the building facing the road. The sign said: “Unto us a child is born—6 feet wide and 3 feet high.”

“This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:12) The signs are everywhere, sometimes subtle and sometimes bold. He comes to us as a baby. A mere child. Born in the humblest of circumstances. The signs are everywhere to be seen. A baby! Sign of hope in such unexpected circumstances.

Teenage girl, much too young
Unprepared for what’s to come
A baby changes everything

Not a ring on her hand
All her dreams and all her plans
A baby changes everything
A baby changes everything

The man she loves, she’s never touched
How will she keep his trust?
A baby changes everything
A baby changes everything

Is anyone ever prepared for the arrival of a baby? There are plenty of books for expectant mothers. But perhaps the best wisdom comes from the elders, those that have survived the harrowing journey of the birth canal, and babyhood, and the terrible twos, and the trying teen years, and young adulthood, and middle age, and have arrived at what some call the golden years. The AARP season. For many years, I would preach on this passage at this time of year about Simeon and Anna. Now, I am preaching with them. They are my people. I am their generation. How old are they? They are accomplished pickle ball players. For them, for us, Christmas is less about the gifts and more about the gift. Less about the decorations and trappings and more about God become flesh and blood. Less about the holly and more about the holy. Less about presents and more about presence.

The young couple act “According to the law….” Five times the law of the Lord is mentioned in this passage. I have a lover’s quarrel with religion. My life’s work has had me in organized religion, yet I don’t consider myself that religious. Religion troubles me in many ways. It tends to be harsh and rigid and judgmental. In his adult ministry, Jesus was almost constantly in trouble with religious leaders. I love the Lord, but I am often deeply troubled by organized religion, including Christianity, which too many times is so removed from the Good News Jesus brought and brings. I resonate with people who desire to be spiritual, but not religious. But here I am moved by how the religious practices of Mary and Joseph are guiding them. When unsure of what to do, of where to go, they obey the law of the Lord and it guides them faithfully. Three cheers for having rites and traditions passed down to us by those who have gone before us.

What to do? Where to go?

Keep the law; God must know

And she cries/ And he cries

Ooh, they cry

But faith must move beyond mere law keeping. If religion stops at law keeping, it is hardly worth the effort. The law of the Lord always points beyond the law to the law giver. To the realm of the Spirit. To matters of the heart. To acts of mercy and compassion.

Mary is so young for all this. And now the spotlight of the cosmos focusses on this young couple, on this teenaged mom with a little baby. They bring him to the temple because that is what they are supposed to do. And when you aren’t sure what to do, maybe the best thing is to do is what the generations before have done. Bring the baby to the Lord. Surely the Lord has some words of wisdom. And God does have some words, but these are words no one is expecting.

An old man named Simeon is there. Why, he might be as old as I am. He has been hanging on to hope for years and he wonders how much longer he can hold on. The Holy Spirit once whispered to him that he won’t die until he sees the Messiah. He sees this young couple with a baby. They look poor, yet rich. She glows with joy. He radiates pride. And they are both just a bit fearful. The baby is just being a baby. In Luke 1-2, there have been three men vitally involved in the story: old Zechariah the priest, young Joseph the carpenter, and now old Simeon just hanging on. Zechariah loses his voice for nine months. Joseph never says a word. Simeon finally breaks the male silence.

First Simeon speaks words that are at once comforting and challenging: “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” That warms my heart.

Then Simeon blesses them and speaks to Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be opposed that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” That sends a twinge of cold in my heart. But it’s part of the story. There will be suffering; that too is part of the glory. Mary will ponder these words too. I wonder if Simeon wishes he hadn’t said that; but he did. There will be suffering and death—and Mary will be there for it all. Another sign about this baby who will change everything.

Choir of angels say
Glory to the newborn king
A baby changes everything
A baby changes everything
Everything, everything, every day
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

My whole life has turned around
I was lost but now I’m found
A baby changes everything
A baby changes everything

And we marvel at the manner of the sending. Poet Lawrence Lee writes, “In the midst of political upheaval, we hoped for a king. In the midst of wars and rumors of wars, we hoped for a general. In the midst of religious tumult and controversy, we hoped for a high priest. But you send us a baby. [pause for bewildered reflection] Interesting choice, God. “

Yes, a baby changes everything. This baby will change everything.

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After watching the public funeral service remembering and honoring former first lady Rosalynn Carter yesterday, I am filled with gratitude for such a woman and the legacy of faith and service she leaves behind. If you didn’t see the service, I urge you to find it on pbs.com (or probably YouTube), and watch it, with tissues in hand. Be inspired and moved by a life of such grace and perseverance. I won’t list here the accomplishments Jimmy and Rosalynn made in their White House years and in the four plus decades since., but will offer two more personal reflections.

The first goes back about 15 years ago. My younger daughter was working for Habitat for Humanity International. Every year the Carters would volunteer at a Habitat build, which, of course, brought out much publicity and more volunteers than could be used. Habitat would select a small number of their employees to serve on the Carter build each year. And one year, my daughter was chosen. The Carters weren’t doing this for personal publicity—they were there to work and draw attention to how Habitat was meeting a great need. They slept in the same accommodations as the other volunteers, and ate at the common meals with the other workers. They were given assignments each morning and followed orders—both could swing a hammer. Before the volunteers started the construction work each morning, they would gather in a circle to pray together for the day’s work. And it just so happened that when the workers joined hands in the prayer circle, my daughter was holding hands with Rosalynn Carter, the former first lady of the United States.

The second goes back to February, 2017. Shortly before then, it was announced that Jimmy had an aggressive cancer, probably life threatening in the short term. My wife and I were in South Carolina for a winter break and I decided that I needed to go to Jimmy Carter’s Sunday school class at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains. I spent the better part of two days in Plains, GA, a simple town of just over 500 residents. There really is only one reason for someone without relatives in Plains to visit Plains. From that town came a president and first lady of the United States. That is reason enough to visit Plains.

The town didn’t disappoint me. It celebrated their favorite son and daughter in simple and authentic ways. The highlight—there were several—was Sunday morning. I arrived early Sunday morning, while it was still dark, to get in line in the Maranatha parking lot to get a seat for President Carter’s class. From my place toward the front of the line, I watched as cars streamed in, filling the parking lot to overflowing. When the doors opened, we entered the sanctuary slowly and orderly, as if we were entering holy ground, which in fact we were.

The sanctuary was quickly filled for the adult Sunday school class. People that didn’t arrive early enough were ushered to an overflow room with a large screen for projection. A woman (she is Billy Carter’s daughter) greeted us, giving us the ground rules for the morning and taking our questions. I asked, “Should we stand when Mr. Carter enters?” She said that in Plains he was just Jimmy and there was no need to treat him differently than anyone else. But when he entered from the door on my right, with that famous smile, I couldn’t help but stand. This humble man served as the president and leader of the free world for four years. He won a Nobel peace prize for his international work for peace. He was the key person, along with Rosalynn, in brokering a peace agreement between Israel and Egypt, once enemies, that endures to this day. But in the sanctuary of the Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, he was just the adult Sunday school teacher. Quarterlies with the Bible lessons were handed out (how long had it been since I had held a Sunday school quarterly?). Our teacher had some appropriate opening remarks, asking what states, and countries, we were from and making appropriate comments about each place he had visited. There weren’t many places that he and Rosalynn hadn’t visited.

There were two secret service officers standing at corners of the room, but we hardly noticed them. I thought, how lucky they are to walk behind and protect two people like these two. And I thought, when they are off duty, where do they go? Probably Americus down the road, which seems like a thriving city compared to Plains.

I still remember the Bible lesson Jimmy taught that day. It dealt with Abraham, the father of two nations that are still struggling to get along. I stayed for worship and waited to have my picture taken with them. Jimmy was already in his 90s and Rosalynn just about to turn 90, so we were asked not to shake hands with them. I left Plains thinking I likely would never return there, but I would never forget being there with Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter for a few hours.

A few hours ago, as I write this, Rosalynn’s casket was lowered in the soil near the simple home they built some six decades ago. Seeing Jimmy’s weakness on the television screen yesterday, it’s hard not to think that he will follow Rosalynn into that holy ground in Plains soon. I knew that Jimmy was weak, now nine months into hospice care, but I wasn’t fully prepared for how weak he is. A lesser man, a vainer man, would have probably stayed home with nursing care and watched the service on a screen. The drive to Atlanta from Plains is about 170 miles, one way—and there was a service at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains this morning. After 77 years of marriage partnership, it was no surprise that Jimmy made the trip to Atlanta, and back to Plains a few hours later, to see his lovely bride off on her next adventure.

[This message was delivered at Community of the Savior in Rochester, NY, on July 30, 2023. It can also be viewed on church Facebook page. The primary text is Romans 8:26-39, particularly verses 28-29 and 38-39. Earlier in the service, Genesis 29:15-28 was read, which explains my brief reference to Genesis 29:17. And, yes, Rachel was present.]

Convinced. I am convinced. That is a strong statement. Are you convinced? Of what are you convinced? Paul begins the ending of this passage in Romans 8 with this glorious claim: “For I am convinced.” The longer I live, the shorter my list of things I am absolutely convinced about becomes. For instance, I am not convinced that everything happens for a reason, though I believe a lot of things God gets blamed for happen because of human stupidity and carelessness. I am not convinced that the Red Sox will be in the playoffs this October, though I am glad to report that they are currently one game ahead of the dreaded Yankees. I am not convinced that our women’s soccer team will win the world cup, though I am convinced that as long as Megan Rapinoe is on the team, even as a sub, we have a good chance. I am not convinced that artificial intelligence will take over the world, but I am certain that no chatbox (whatever that is) will ever write my sermons.

My list of absolutely convinced items grows shorter, but I still have a list headed “I’m convinced.” I am convinced of the truth of Genesis 29:17: “but Rachel was graceful and beautiful.” I am just glad that the Rachel I courted and married did not have a sister named Leah, because I am convinced I couldn’t have waited 14 years to marry Rachel. I am convinced that Shohei Otani is the best baseball player on the planet; hence I am on the side of the Angels. I am convinced that the Sunfish is the best small sailboat ever made. I am convinced that Mahler’s Second Symphony is rightly called the “Resurrection Symphony” and is a work of genius. I am convinced that life is a precious gift and needs to be nurtured and cherished daily. And I am utterly and absolutely convinced “that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers,neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Of that I am as certain as I can be of anything in this life. I am convinced. Are you convinced?

One of the roles of a preacher is to be convincing, to try to convince people of what the preacher believes is true. After five decades of doing it, I am not convinced that I can convince anyone of anything. But I give it my best shot. Because I am convinced.

In this rich passage in Paul’s letter to the Romans, which I judge to be the richest chapter in Paul’s richest letter, I must not run to verses 38-39, the “I am convinced” verses that concludes the passage. I can’t cover everything in this passage in one sermon, but I must deal briefly with verse 28, which has been often memorized and quoted and misused as a biblical good luck charm. Many translations still make “all things,” the subject, rather than “God,” who works in all things. The New International Version gets it right: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

What is important to establish is that all things that happen in our lives are not good. But even in the bad things that happen to us, God is at work. That does not mean that those bad things become happy things, but God is at work in them for greater purposes. And that greater purpose is found in the next verse, vs. 29: “to be conformed to the image of his Son.” Not to get us to heaven in the happiest way possible, but to make us more like Jesus. Two nights ago I saw the new production of “Godspell” at the Blackfriars Theatre.  I have loved “Godspell” since I first saw it over 50 years ago, but I got a new glimpse of just radical the love of Jesus is in this production. Jesus brings us the grace and love of God, even as he speaks truth to power, particularly the entrenched power of religion. I want to be more like Jesus, more loving and gracious and more truth-telling in the face of evil.

In all things God is working. Romans 8 gives us quite a list of “all things.” Listen: “Weakness, trouble, hardship, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword; we face death all day long.” In Revelation 21:5, the enthroned Christ says, “Behold, I am making all things new.” I believe that, even as I live in a world filled with trouble, with sickness, war, and death. And with love, and beauty, and grace. Jesus is already making all things new, but it is taking a good while and the work is not finished. I am convinced that God is at work in it all.

I have just been through a week of dealing with the fragile nature of life. It began with me fainting twice and needing to be in Strong Hospital for two nights waiting for a new pacemaker to be installed. As one who is generally healthy and very active, it was an existential reminder of my frailty and mortality. When I got home I found out that a friend of my younger daughter, just 47, has entered hospice care. When I called her parents, long-time friends of mine and asked how their Lisa was doing, her mother simply said, “She’s dying.” Then her father got on the phone and we wept together. Yesterday another long-time friend from the congregation I once pastored called. She is a healthy 57-year-old, helping her parents as they move toward the last chapter of their lives. And suddenly she was in the hospital herself for several weeks wondering what is happening. God is at work in at all things. Even in our frailty, in our living and in our dying.

Just over a week ago Tony Bennett died at age 96. I have long been a fan of Bennett’s, especially appreciating his working with younger artists, like Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga. Almost seven years ago, Bennett gave a concert at Eastman Hall and Rachel and I were there for an unforgettable evening. Tony never had a piece of music or paper in front of him. Now I take us to almost two years ago for his last public performance. His mind had succumbed to Alzheimer’s. Before he stepped on stage, he had no idea where he was or why. He recognized virtually no one. When they brought him on stage, he came alive. When the music started behind him, he knew every word and sang every song flawlessly. When Lady Gaga started walked toward him, he looked at her, smiled, and said to the audience, “There’s Lady Gaga.” A day later Anderson Cooper interviewed him and he had no memory of the concert.

If in this life we come to the time when we know nothing else, whether because of accident, age, or disease, what will we still know? Of what will we be convinced? I will know this: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

It is Easter Monday as I write this. My Holy Week, concluding with the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection Saturday night and Sunday morning, was wonderful. From Palm/Passion Sunday, through Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter vigil, and Resurrection morning, the week was filled with glorious gathered worship.

And now, it is Easter week Monday. And there has been another mass shooting. I think the current report is five dead, including a police officer, and at least nine hospitalized. This time Louisville KY. Not a school (just a bit of relief in saying that, but not too much), but a bank building. Whatever their ages, a bunch of people are suddenly dead today from bullets.

We will hear some of the same words today (My comments in italics):

• “Thoughts and prayers.” (We need more than thoughts and prayer. Clearly they are not stopping the carnage.)
• “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Let’s wait till all the facts are in.” (What facts are we awaiting? The victims are either dead or wounded. Those are the facts.)
• “Let’s not politicize this and take guns from law-abiding citizens.” (Let’s work at making sure that only law-abiding citizens can purchase and keeps guns, through a rigorous system of background checks and testing. And let’s only have available guns for hunting or reasonable self-defense)
• “The Democrats just want to politicize this to take away our Second Amendment rights.” (Who is politicizing this? If Democrats are calling for laws to address this situation, I don’t see that as politicizing. If Republicans are calling for laws to address this situation, I don’t see that as politicizing.)
• “We can be grateful that more weren’t killed.” (That’s not much comfort to the bereaved.)
• “This is unacceptable.” (It is acceptable if we choose to keep accepting it. We are accepting it every day we don’t make changes.)

Two weeks ago today it was Covenant School in Nashville TN. In a press conference early that day, one official said something like this: “Down here in the south, we believe in prayer.” I didn’t get his name, as I heard it on the radio while driving. I almost needed to pull over. Doesn’t he think that Covenant School started their school day in prayer? Did they pray the wrong prayer that morning? Did they pray to the wrong God? Was God not listening that morning? What in God’s name did he mean by that statement (other than a cheap self-serving shot at northerners)? I live in the north and I believe in prayer. But prayer didn’t stop that shooting. Or the over one-a-day mass shootings so far this calendar year. And nearly a third of them have been at schools.

Whatever in the world the Second Amendment means (I have read it many times and I’m still not certain), it can’t mean the madness we are experiencing just about every day. What we have today is not a “well regulated militia.” If the Second Amendment means that we should have more guns than people in this land and they are being used to kill others far too often, then I am against the Second Amendment as written and interpreted. I am not for removing it, but for changing it; amending it. Making it sensible and reasonable. Making it so that this craziness does not go on and on while people mouth empty platitudes. The process of amending the constitution is there because no governing document is perfect. Our constitution has never been perfect. We amend the constitution to make our land and way of governing it better, “more perfect.”

When our rate of gun violence is greater, usually far greater, than that of any comparable nation, I am led to two essential and mutually incompatible conclusions.

1. That we do not have a gun problem, but our people are morally worse than those of all other nations and that our mental health as a country is seriously worse than that of all other nations.
2. That we have a gun problem. Guns are too readily available. These include assault weapons made to kill numbers of people quickly and efficiently.

I am compelled to believe that our country, the United States of America, has a gun problem. I am not under the illusion that tightening our laws for the production, sale, and use of guns will eliminate all gun violence. I do believe that we can seriously cut down the incidence of gun violence in our land. We have done it with cigarette smoking. We have done it with automobile driving. Reasonable laws will not change everything, but they will make a difference. I long for the day when we will say in word, deed, and action, this plague of gun violence is unacceptable and we will no longer accept it.

[This message was delivered at John Calvin Presbyterian Church in Henrietta NY. It was not videotaped.]

First Sunday in Lent                            February 26, 2023       Matthew 4:1-11

Two weeks ago, you may have watched the most watched event of the year on television. I did. Does anyone here remember which team won the Super Bowl and what the final score was? Let me take this quiz up a notch or two. How many of the commercials do you remember? Can you remember a commercial that didn’t feature a dog? And, if you remember a commercial, for which some sponsor spent about $7,000,000 to show, do you remember the product? One sponsor bought two commercial spots, which means that sponsor spent at least $14,000,000 and a whole lot more because the production values of the two commercials were really good: expert photography, staging, and music. At the end of each came the punchline, not spoken, but written: “He gets us.” The he is Jesus.

I have been listening to a podcast about these “He Gets Us” ads that aired on the Super Bowl, costing a boatload–make that an aircraft carrier load–of money. The question I have doesn’t deal with how much it cost to air these or make these, or whether it was good stewardship. No. My question is this: does Jesus get us? Does he get me? Does he really?

Now that we have looked back two weeks, let’s look ahead 88 weeks and two days. That won’t be a Super Bowl dates, but our next presidential election. Already the questions are swirling:

• Are Biden and Trump too old to run again?
• Will Niki Haley emerge as a powerful candidate?
• Will DeSantis, Pence, and Pompeo join the field?
• If Biden decides not to run, what Democrats will jump in?

Starting a campaign requires strategy, money, and timing. With former president Jimmy Carter having entered hospice care at his home in Plains, GA, many are remembering how he campaigned early and long in Iowa and became a national player when, against all odds, he won the Iowa caucuses of his party and then the nomination and then became president. His launch strategy worked. He spent far more than 40 days in Iowa. Are 40 days in the wilderness any way to launch a public campaign or ministry?

In Matthew’s account of the gospel, today’s passage is how Jesus starts his public ministry. In chapter one he is born. In chapter two he receives strange gifts from strange foreign visitors. In chapter three, his cousin John the Baptist prepares the way and then baptizes Jesus. Ready? Get out the banners, bumper stickers, and lawn signs. Jesus is going–not to Iowa or New

Hampshire– but to the wilderness. The stark Palestinian wilderness. A dangerous place to travel alone. A dangerous place to be alone.

Michael Card, my favorite writer and singer of scripture songs, writes:

In the wilderness/ In the wilderness
He calls His sons and daughters/ To the wilderness
But He gives grace sufficient/ To survive any test
And that’s the painful purpose/ Of the wilderness

In the wilderness we wander/ In the wilderness we weep
In the wasteland of our wanting/ Where the darkness seems so deep
We search for the beginning/ For an exodus to hold
We find that those who follow Him/ Must often walk alone

No crowds follow him into the wilderness. The Spirit of God thrusts Jesus into the wilderness. It’s not like he said, book me a six-week adventure in the wilderness. This is not an Outward Bound experience. A few weeks ago, Aaron Rodgers, a football player for the Green Bay Packers took a four-day dark retreat. He had a big matter before him. Should he re-sign with the Packers for another season at about $50,000,000 or see if another team wants him for a year or two, probably for more money. So Rodgers booked a dark room in southern Oregon to be alone. His dark room had a queen size bed, a toilet, a meditation mat, and a switch for turning on lights. A few weeks ago I booked a room for a day at the Mercy Spirituality Center near Highland Park to be quiet before God and do some listening and praying. During those six hours I ate nothing, drank only tea and water, and was in a small room. Small but comfortable. A chair, a single bed, a small desk, and a lamp. It was hardly a wilderness of fasting and temptation for 40 days.

Jesus is not on a dark retreat or a spa vacation or an Outward Bound adventure. So far as we can tell, he doesn’t much want to be there. But the Spirit of God pushes him into the wilderness. He is going to be out there for 40 days. No food. No cushy bed. No light switch. But he won’t be exactly alone. The devil will be there giving him a guided tour. The Bible takes seriously the devil, sometimes called Satan. The evil one. The rebel against God. The fallen angel. In the Bible, the devil is not a literary symbol of evil, but evil incarnate.

Thrust into the wilderness by God’s Spirit, the devil makes his best plays on Jesus in three parries. Each one has a potentially good and God-honoring outcome:

• To make bread from stones, bread that could feed multitudes;
• To survive bodily danger, that could bring healing to broken bodies;
• To have authority over the world, which could advance the Kingdom of God globally in no time.

All Jesus had to do was submit to the devil’s timeline. And he wouldn’t do that. Ever.

The toughest choices we face in life are not between good and bad, but between good and better. Between short cuts that sound so good and doing the work of slow and steady progress. I have learned that short cuts usually cut us short, not the promised end.

In these wilderness exchanges we note that both the devil and Jesus quoted scripture. The devil can do that, making sin look so alluring. Offering shortcuts to what seem to be good ends. Beware of shortcuts, of too-good-to-be true schemes, and of people that cherry-pick Bible verses to say what they want them to say.

Jesus taught is to pray, “Lead us not into temptation…” I take that to mean something like this. Enough temptation comes to my life that I don’t need to court more. So I pray that God will keep me from making bad decisions and stupid moves putting me in places of vulnerability. Temptation will always be present in our earthly journeys. Jesus knows that, for he shared in our earthly journey. He was tempted more severely than we will ever be—and he passed the test. Does he get us? Does Jesus get us? When it comes to temptation, there is no question. He knows what it is like. He experienced it in the most extreme ways and honored God at every moment of temptation.

Are some of us in a wilderness just now? We are not alone. He gets us. He is with us in the Lenten journey—all the way to the cross and beyond. He gets us.

[This message was delivered at Gates Presbyterian Church, Rochester NY, on 2/5/23, based on Isaiah 58:1-12 and Matthew 5:13-20. It can be seen on the Gates YouTube page.]

The great American feasting season is almost over. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Epiphany with Three Kings cakes, and now just one to go: the Super Bowl in one week, which seems to be getting later each year. I think Doritos has something to do with that. This year, the Bills again left us the option of just skipping the game. But I expect even Bills fans will be watching and perhaps eating more than if the Bills were playing. We might just watch it for the commercials, the half time show, and the nachos, guacamole, Kansas City wings and Philly steaks, and beer. Who cares which team wins?

But wait. Check your calendar carefully. February still has Valentine’s Day, just two days after the Super Bowl. We can eat dark chocolate. But there is one more day of note. You have guessed it, haven’t you? February 22. Not George Washington’s birthday, though it is that. But we have taken care of that with Presidents’ Day on the third Monday, which sort of combines Lincoln’s and Washington’s birthdays but can never fall exactly on either one. Abe and George were robbed by this third Monday business. We might just as well call it “Third Monday in February when all mattresses are on sale.”

This February 22 is on a Wednesday and perhaps you have guessed what it is: Ash Wednesday, the beginning day of Lent. A true holy day, but much neglected. Who gets excited about spiritual disciplines? About giving up stuff that we like? Who wants to think about fasting? Give me the choice between feasting and fasting and I’ll take feasting every time.

I like preaching from the lectionary because it disciplines me from just preaching what I want to be preaching. The Isaiah text selected for us this morning seems to be saying, “Let’s make Lent even longer this year. You get two extra weeks to drop that winter weight you started putting on back in late November.” I note that this Isaiah 58 passage is often assigned to Ash Wednesday, but not this year. We get it two and a half weeks before Lent. Then what is assigned for Ash Wednesday, February 22 this year? It is the section of the sermon on the mount in Matthew 6 where Jesus says: “And whenever you fast, do not look somber, like the hypocrites, for they mark their faces to show others that they are fasting.” (Matthew 6:16.)

The point of fasting in the Bible is not to lose a few pounds and certainly not to impress God with our self-discipline. Rather, it is to say no to something, whether for a season or longer, in order to say yes to something better, something of lasting value. It is learning to say no in order to say yes, or, better, to do yes. To make changes. Positive changes. The Bible has some good words for this and about this. The leading one is repentance. Which is a turning from the old to the new, from the unhealthy to the healthy, from sin to salvation, from selfishness to self-giving. Fasting is but one expression of that.

Before Jesus mentions fasting in the sermon on the mount, he tells who we are. That begins with the Beatitudes, which were read last Sunday. Today he goes further, telling us that we are salt and light. Jesus doesn’t tell us act like salt, but to be salt. He doesn’t tell us to pretend we are light, but to be light.

Salt chiefly serves two purposes: it seasons and it preserves. And it just takes a little salt to do either. In seasoning, the goal is not to taste the salt, but to allow the salt make everything else taste better. Too much salt can ruin a meal; not enough salt and the meal is flat and uninteresting. As a preservative, salt helped the human race survive before refrigeration. When I was in a Wegmans supermarket last week, I looked at the salts. Do you know there are at least a dozen salts available? And they aren’t all white. Some are pink, some are red, some are gray, and some are black. There is kosher salt and sea salt. Salt has amazing variety, as should the Church. Salt makes life more tasty and interesting, as should the Church.

Light is different. How is light defined? Not easily. Here is a simple attempt: “Light is a type of electromagnetic radiation that allows the human eye to see or makes objects visible.” Light is the fastest moving thing we know in the universe. Can you imagine anything moving at 186,00 miles per hour? Light moves that fast per second. I can’t grasp that. Throughout the Bible, God is shedding light, giving light, bringing light. There are those glorious words we read at Christmastime: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…. What has come into beingin him was life, and the life was the light of all people.The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.”  (John 1:1, 4-5)

How are we to be salt and light? Last weekend my wife and I went to see “Ain’t Misbehavin’”, a musical revue of the music of Fats Waller. Before the show, I was reading in the playbill the little briefs about each actor. At the end of one, she simply wrote Matthew 5:16. I knew that I would be preaching eight days later from the passage in Matthew 5 where that verse is found. I had it in my pocket on a 3×5 card. I pulled it out and read: “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” I thought, that’s how I want to live too. That’s how I want the Church of Jesus Christ to live, doing good deeds that bring salt and light to the world.

We are just 17 days from Ash Wednesday. We still have the Super Bowl in seven days, Valentine’s Day in nine days, and Presidents’ Day in 15 days. Even as we prepare for that great season of preparation, we are called to be salt and light. We are called to a kind of fasting that says no to what hinders us that we may say yes and do yes to shine the light and bring flavor to life

This is how God describes the right kind of fast: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn.” (Isaiah 58:6-8)

“Then your light shall break forth like the dawn.” Then our light will break forth like the dawn.Are you remembering a song we learned years ago as youngsters, a song about letting our light shine? I am and I want to sing it with you now:

“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine….”

When Christmas season is completed and Epiphany is winding down, I remember this little poem by Howard Thurman each year:

“When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

the work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among others,

To make music in the heart.”

That kind of living is for every season and every day, to let our light shine before others that they may see our good deeds and glorify our God. Let it shine, let it shine, let is shine.

[This message was delivered at Perinton Presbyterian Church on January 1, 2023, which was my final Sunday serving there as their parish associate. The message is based on Matthew 2:1-12, which should be read in as many Bible versions as you have, or can find on the internet. It can also be watched on the Perinton Presbyterian Facebook page.]

I have been married for 54 years, which means my wife knows me really well. She knows me better than anyone else. Only God knows me better, and sometimes I think she may have the edge. So when she tells me something about me, I am wise not to argue but to listen and learn. Like when she says that I always prefer to get someplace new in the most indirect way possible. I have listened, but not learned very well. I do like scenic routes. And I trust my internal GPS more than I trust that one on the dashboard of my car with the snarky voice. I know how to get where we are going! I can prove it—I have always made it there. Though sometimes late and usually covering lots of extra miles.

I identify with the magi. The star—how is that for a GPS?—is leading them to Bethlehem, but they go to Jerusalem. Who wouldn’t want to cruise through Jerusalem on the way to Bethlehem? Jerusalem is a beautiful city; Bethlehem is a backwater town. Let’s get some pictures of us on our camels next to the western wall of the temple. Look how the temple gleams in the sunshine. There is no straight four-lane divided highway to little Bethlehem. It is an awe-filled journey.

What would have happened if they had been Wise Women instead of Wise Men? They would have asked directions right away, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole and cookies, and brought practical gifts like baby toys, diapers, and formula, and there would be peace on earth. But, alas, the Magi were men!

I love the story of the Magi, but we need to do some clarifying. We don’t know how many there were, but likely far more than three. They don’t arrive to find Jesus a new-born baby in the manger. They find Jesus a “child” (a different word than “baby”) living with his parents in a house, probably a rental. They likely arrive months after Jesus was born, maybe a year, but within two years of his birth.

The Gospel of Luke gives us all the details about Elizabeth and Zechariah, about Mary (and precious little about Joseph), the stable (no room available in the inn) and the manger, the angelic chorus and the shepherds. Matthew gives us the Magi and their awe-filled journey. What Luke and Matthew both us give us is lots of traveling. Hundreds of miles of traveling. They racked up serious frequent flyer miles. Mary and Joseph would travel at least 300 miles before they returned to Nazareth. The Magi travel between 500 and 900 miles one way.

There are several key players in this narrative: (1) the Magi, (2) King Herod, and (3) the religious leaders Herod gathers. Mary, Joseph, and Jesus are playing passive roles, never saying one word.

• The Magi are probably from Persia, once known as Babylon and today known as Iran. They are astrologers, which today would be astronomers. Think astro-physicists. They may serve a priestly role in Persian religion. To Israelites, they were considered pagans. What is essential about them is they are willing to follow a star a great distance without knowing just where it would lead them.
• King Herod is a typical power-hungry politician, embellishing his resume whenever it serves his purposes. He was born Idumean, hailing from Edom, but pretended he was Jewish to curry favor with the Israelites he governed. Herod has religious leaders (chief priests and teachers of the law) in his pocket, beholden to him, ready to tell him what he wants to hear. What is essential about him is that is crazed with jealousy when he hears a baby has been born who is called king of the Jews.
• The chief priests and teachers of the law know their scriptures. When Herod gathers them, they are quick to quote Micah 5 about Messiah being born in little Bethlehem. Yea for them. Then they make no effort to go to Bethlehem themselves. They take not one step down on the six-mile or so road to Bethlehem. What is essential about them is that they do not take one step toward Bethlehem to see this child. They represent religion at its worst: textbook answers without living faith and warm hearts. Bono, the lead singer for U2, recently said, “It’s almost like religion is what happens when the Spirit has left the building.”

I think the most dangerous profession is religious leader. Which is why I don’t want to be known as a religious leader. Religious leaders are ever in danger of memorizing right answers and living without vital faith, without love for God and neighbor. Just call me Harry and don’t take any religious titles that might be applied to me seriously.

Of these three groups of key players—the Magi, King Herod, and the religious leaders—which did the right thing? Yes, the pagan foreigners. They take the journey of faith. They follow the star. They listen to heavenly nudges and get up and go. I want to be numbered with them.

How they act when they finally get to Bethlehem is a model for faithfulness. First, they worship the child. The word used means to bow down, face to the ground. Literally, it means kissing forward, all the way down. Their worship is full-bodied and expansive. We Presbyterians can learn from them. Too often, our worship is carefully restrained: no displays of emotion; no verbal responses; no outbursts of joy.

Second, they bring lavish gifts. These are strange gifts for a young child, but they reflect their Persian culture. And they are costly. It is because of them that we exchange gifts at Christmas. They started it, and I am grateful. Gift giving is a wonderful custom. I believe in re-gifting. Some gifts need to be paid forward. Like the mittens and hats my auntie Lida used to knit each year. And that brick of a fruitcake that Ruth gave us. I think our mail deliverer got it, nicely wrapped.

Third, they experience joy. “When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.” The literal translation is mega-joy. They are mega-joyed even before they see the child. They are traveling with joy. We could use a big dose of mega-joy in our journeys. Madeleine L’Engle penned a poem entitled “The First Coming” that concludes:

We cannot wait till the world is sane/ to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,/ He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

No Christmas pageant is complete without them. Every nativity set welcomes them. I love them. They make me want to journey in awe-filled faith. They make me want to follow God’s star, to dream God’s dreams, and to see God’s visions.

Many of you have been asking me what I will be doing in my next chapter. I don’t fully know and I don’t have to know. But I just answered: I want to be more like the Magi. I will seek to journey in awe-filled faith, to follow God’s star, to dream God’s dreams, and to see God’s visions. What about you? What will you be doing in this new year?

Mary Oliver has written a little poem entitled “Summer Day.” It ends with this question, for you and for me: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

[This message was delivered at Perinton Presbyterian on 12/4/22, the second Sunday of Advent, based on Isaiah 9:2-7 and Galatians 4:4-7. It can be viewed on the Perinton facebook page.]

“Hello darkness, my old friend/ I’ve come to talk with you again.” (Paul Simon, “The Sound of Silence”) That haunting opening line in the song made famous by Simon and Garfunkel comes to mind when I read the opening words of this messianic prophecy in Isaiah 9:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”

The Bible deals with darkness and light a lot. Darkness is mentioned about 200 times; light over 260 times. The Bibles declares that God is present in both darkness and light. Psalm 139 says it well: “Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.” (Psalm 139:11-12) Darkness may sneak up on us, but it never sneaks up on God.

Artists know the power of darkness and light on the same canvas. Rembrandt was a master of using light sparingly against a dark backdrop, as in the “Descent from the Cross.” Notice how the body of Jesus commands the sparse light. In Van Gogh’s most famous work, “Starry Night,” against the darkness of the night sky, light is radiating. While darkness often conveys a sense of the ominous, even evil, it is not always so. Darkness is often the canvas for God’s light to shine.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”

This was a word of hope. Judah, the southern kingdom had suffered a series of bad kings, with Ahaz the latest. It was a time of spiritual darkness. A new king was arising, Hezekiah, with promise for a better day. Isaiah couldn’t see it all, but he points beyond any earthly king to a king unlike any other: “For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders, and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” For them, that would come about seven centuries later; for us it happened about 2,000 years ago. That birth in Bethlehem is the hinge of history. In the darkness of that time, with Israel occupied by the Roman Empire, the light of God came as never before. As John 1 says, “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has never overcome it.”

God’s faithful people have always lived in the midst of spiritual darkness, but always filled with hope for God is always with them, with us. That is just as much our reality as it was in times past. There is much spiritual darkness in our land. There is a wave of violence in our day. In November there were more acts of mass violence in our country than days in the month. There are so many that we don’t even hear of all of them. Too often, such violence targets people groups, minority groups. Three groups are especially vulnerable to targeted violence:

1. There is much anti-Black targeting, such as earlier this year when a young white racist killed ten people in a Tops Market in a Black neighborhood of Buffalo.
2. There is much anti-Semitic targeting, such as the killing of 11 people at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh a few years ago.
3. There is much anti-LGBTQ targeting, such as the killing of five people and wounding of another 19 at the Club Q in Colorado Springs just two weeks ago.

There are no safe places. Schools are vulnerable, like Sandy Hook in CT and Robb Elementary in Uvalde TX. Houses of worship are vulnerable. We remember that killing of nine people at a Bible study at Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston, SC, just a few years ago. Just last weekend, anti-Semitic and anti-Black symbols and words were sprayed on the welcome sign of the Church of the Resurrection in this town. Up until 2000, under 1% of acts of mass violence were in houses of worship. The last three years, that number is approaching 20%.

The Department of Homeland Security issued an alert last week: “Targets of potential violence include public gatherings, faith-based institutions, the LGBTQI+ community, schools, racial and religious minorities, government facilities and personnel, U.S. critical infrastructure, the media, and perceived ideological opponents.”

This is no time for people of the light to say, “Let’s move on. God is in control so we can sit back.” Spiritual darkness is real. True faith is never an excuse to ignore bias, hatred, and violence. Biblical faith recognizes that God is present in the darkness and in the light, and we are called to be present with God in the darkness and in the light. God calls us to be people of his light, his justice, and his righteousness. Jesus commissions us to be with him in his ministry as he is with us.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”

The darkness is real, and God is present. In Isaiah 9:2-3, the word darkness occurs twice, the word light occurs twice, and the words joy and rejoice appear three times. We do not forfeit our joy in the midst of spiritual darkness; we let our joy shine, even as we work for God’s justice and righteousness.

Let this sanctuary be a place of great joy, but also a place of honest faith and struggle. This is not a place for people who have everything together; this is a place for searchers and seekers, for believers and doubters, for the hurting and the rejoicing. All people are welcome here. We seek to follow the orders Jesus gave us: to love God with our whole beings and to love others, all others.

Advent calls us to prepare carefully. I love the thought of Dag Hammarskjöld, who was the second Secretary General of the United Nations and a thoughtful Christian: “How proper it is that Christmas should follow Advent. For him who looks toward the future, the manger is situated on Golgotha, and the cross has already been raised in Bethlehem.”  We look forward to celebrating the birth of the one called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” We look for the day when his peace shall be known in every corner of this weary planet. We look for that day and we work for that day.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes in “Learning to Walk in the Dark,” “New life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.” A newborn is laid in a manger. From crucifixion will come his resurrection. In the darkness, God’s light is shining.

People of the light are making a difference. I read a few days ago about the small parish of St. Thomas in Kagiso, South Africa. The pastor said to some American visitors, “Everything we do is worship.” This congregation, comprised of predominantly poor families, feeds lunch to children in the neighborhood school; brings school books, shoes, and uniforms for children in the community; stands as guardians for families of child-headed households; and makes sure that those dying from AIDS have their homes cleaned, are eating healthy food, and know they are loved. They are showing that God that cares, through their caring.

People of the light are making a difference. The Rochester chapter of Habitat for Humanity is planning to build or remodel 300 homes in a needy neighborhood just east of downtown. What a vision that is. I see this congregation supporting and participating in that vision.

“But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law,in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.” Jesus has come to shine God’s light in our lives and all over this planet.

Isaiah ends this passage with this proclamation: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” We will never be able to bring about God’s kingdom in its fullness. We will never be able to bring the reign of Christ’s peace in its fullness. God will do that. Jesus will do that. But he calls us to work with him. Let us be people of his light, the light that shines in the darkness and cannot be overcome.

I live in hope for that day when cancer is gone, when hunger is gone, when poverty is gone, when hatred is gone, when are is no more. God will bring that day, but the pattern in the Bible is that when God does something momentous, God uses some ordinary people to work with him, like Abraham and Sarah, Zechariah and Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph. Like you and me. Let us walk in the light of the Lord. Amen.

May the mind of Christ my Savior, live in me from day to day,

By his love and power controlling all I do and say.                                      –Kate B. Wilkinson

It was in my middle teen years that a young couple with four little stair-step children happened into the life of Western Avenue Assembly of God in Los Angeles.  My life would never be the same.  Gordon and Maudine Fee gave me permission to think, to ask hard questions, to leave behind that from my faith tradition which was not worth carrying on, and to love God in all aspects of my life.  It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but it first shook and then shaped my foundations.

As Maudine Fee was teaching me on Sunday mornings, Gordon Fee was teaching my mother.  Coming to America as a child, my mother was never much of a student in the formal sense.  But she was a fine student of life and faith.  When young Gordon Fee entered her world, she couldn’t stop talking about him.  He taught her as she hadn’t been taught before.  Instead of telling tired old stories he opened the world of the scriptures for that adult class.  And hardly a week went by that he wasn’t so touched by the truths he was teaching that tears flowed from his eyes and from those of his eager students.

Gordon Fee preached in a different way than I had known.  To be sure, he was enthusiastic and emotional.  He was, after all, a third-generation Pentecostal.  The distinctives of this movement were stamped in his DNA.  Yet he opened a passage of scripture in a different way.  He had not only prayed over his message; he had studied it.  He opened insights into local custom and culture.  He sometimes offered options when one answer wasn’t obviously the only one available.  And he brought a sense of humanity to his preaching.  Toward the end of that sermon on Matthew 6:33 he spoke of how children are so excited about Christmas gifts they receive, but may rather quickly put them aside.  He spoke specifically about how his oldest child, Mark, then a youngster and seated by himself in the front row, had outgrown a bike.  He saw that Mark was embarrassed and had begun to cry.  Gordon stopped mid-thought and apologized to his son in front of the entire congregation.  He spoke tenderly to his son of what he had meant to illustrate and how sorry he was to embarrass him before us.  I am writing this decades after it happened, yet I have never forgotten it. 

In the fall of 1964 I began studying at Southern California College (now Vanguard University).  Studying might be an exaggeration.  My first year was given to fun:  dorm pranks, dating, getting into and out of trouble, and thoroughly enjoying life at a little Pentecostal college.  Gordon Fee, having finished his PhD in New Testament at USC, arrived for my second year.  I had no idea what I wanted to study or what I wanted to be.  Gordon Fee came to teach New Testament.  I already had known some of his teaching, though not as much as my mother, so I signed up for New Testament Greek 1.  And my life began to change again.  I have never had great skills in learning languages, but this was different.  We were soon reading 1 John in the Greek text.  Gordon didn’t just teach the rudiments of an ancient language—he taught the New Testament.  During any class there might come a moment when we were brushing back tears.  Everything would stop and we were hushed in the presence of the Holy Spirit.  He wasn’t just teaching us a language; he was teaching us to understand the Good News and to respond to the living Lord.

Gordon left SCC a year after I graduated.  As I understand it, he was forced to leave by the Southern California District leaders of the Assemblies of God (the college was part of the district’s ministry and under its direct supervision). His teaching sometimes caused great consternation for the district officials because he wasn’t there to teach a party line, but to open his students to sound scholarship.  Gordon was merely doing what a professor should do:  pointing out the options available in any area of study and helping the students to think critically and carefully.

Pentecostalism wasn’t well positioned for what Fee and a few others brought to SCC.  The Pentecostals were so intent on remaining a movement (not a bad thing at all), that there was little tolerance for nuance and intellectual inquiry.  The party line had to be maintained.  We must be a movement, not an institution or denomination.  We knew what they were like!  A number of us, in retrospect probably a small number, increasingly sensed that we couldn’t go back to being the good Pentecostal kids we once were.  We questioned doctrines and practices like speaking in tongues as the initial (and virtually only) evidence of the infilling of the Holy Spirit, and the dispensational end-times framework in which everything hinged on a secret rapture of the Church.  Most of us as very young adults had already outlived prophecies we heard in our home churches as children and teens about when Jesus would return. We began seeing Spirit-led worship and well-designed liturgy as mutually inclusive.

Gordon always landed on his feet.  From his rude exit from SCC he ended up teaching New Testament at Wheaton College in Illinois, not a Pentecostal college but one of the nation’s most respected Christian colleges (the Harvard of Christian colleges, some called it).  From Wheaton he went to Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in South Hamilton, MA, in the fall of 1974.  I graduated from Gordon-Conwell in the spring of 1974.  Gordon and Maudine stayed with us in our trailer on one of his interviews there.  At both those schools he influenced scores of students as he had at SCC.  The man couldn’t teach New Testament without touching lives in profound ways.  When I served at the Mockler Center at Gordon-Conwell in the late 1990s, Gordon had already left Gordon-Conwell for Regent College in Vancouver, BC, his last teaching post.  When I asked students and former students what professors had made the greatest difference in their lives, two were mentioned more than any other:  Gordon Fee and Christy Wilson.  I was fortunate to know both before my years in seminary.

In that period at Gordon-Conwell there was something of a “purge.”  Harold Lindsell, then known for his book “The Battle for the Bible,” (which I found to be mean-spirited) assumed a place of some power on the board of trustees.  Since, in Lindsell’s thinking, Fuller Seminary had been lost to the moderate evangelicals, those uneasy with the way the word “inerrant” was being used to attack other evangelicals, Lindsell sought to save Gordon-Conwell from going the way Fuller had. And Gordon went to Regent College (a seminary) in Vancouver, BC, for some of the richest teaching of his long career.

When Rachel and I were preparing to be married, we dealt with the question of who would do the honors.  Our home pastors were still alive and available, but there was no question in our minds about who really knew us and had been with us during our courtship:  Gordon Fee did the honors on June 14, 1968.  As in every other way he touched my life, he did a good job.  Gordon first opened the world of New Testament scholarship to my mother as Maudine opened up the world of books and thought to me.  My world has never been the same.

I will always remember Gordon as a deeply committed to women in church leadership, to intellectual and emotional integrity, to honest faith, willing to question and search, and to an infectious love of God, love of neighbor, and love of life. I am deeply grateful for the many ways Gordon Fee opened for me the world of God’s abundant grace. He helped me to read the New Testament as the dynamic witness to the Good News of Jesus. He urged me to see the Church, with all its struggles and flaws, as the Body of Christ. He did all this with good humor, humble humanity, and generous spirit.

Gordon was a peerless student of Paul’s letters, so I close with words from Paul’s magisterial letter to the Romans. This beautiful translation is from the New International Version, which Gordon helped to translate. “For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living.”