Author: harryjheintz

[This message was delivered for the second Sunday of Advent, 12/6/20, where I am now serving as a parish associate. The texts: Isaiah 40:1-11, Mark 1:1-8. The video of the worship service can be found on Facebook, under Perinton Presbyterian Church.]

There is no straight path from Henrietta to Perinton, let alone a highway. In the three weeks I have been on your staff, I have experimented with various routes, looking for the quickest and the most interesting. There is no straight path. One takes me through four towns, with Pittsford and Bushnell’s Basin in the middle of Henrietta and Perinton. One takes me on some highways, touching parts of Brighton, but that is the longest. And one takes me through the village of Pittsford. I tend to move quickly and I like getting things done, so I want to know the quickest route. Advent is not the easiest season for me. But it has become a favorite of mine. In a society that starts a headlong rush to Christmas as soon as Halloween’s candy is consumed, with a slight break for Thanksgiving, Advent slows me down. It invites me to read ancient prophecies, encounter curious people, ponder great mysteries, and find a Savior who was not exactly what we were looking for. And sometimes not even close.

Of all the characters we meet this season, none is more quirky and strange than John the Baptist. I have this annual appointment with John the Baptist, which comes on the second Sunday of Advent every year, just like clockwork. This Sunday confronts me with John and his message.

The beginning of Mark’s gospel strikes me as no way to begin a gospel, a story of good news.

Did someone forget Christmas? It seems Mark did. This is generally considered the first written of the four gospel accounts we have. Thank God Matthew and Luke followed, because if we only had Mark, we would have no Christmas pageants. Not only would there be no room in the inn, there would be no inn. And no journey to Bethlehem. No shepherds. No grand angelic announcements. No Mary pondering mysteries and no Joseph wondering what to do in the most troubling circumstance. No magi traveling from afar with lavish, if impractical, gifts. We would have no crèches, no living nativities. Bedford Falls would be Potterville every day. Is Mark the Grinch who forgot Christmas?

Does Mark, then, begin with Jesus? No. Instead we get John the Baptist, this eccentric preacher thundering in the wilderness. I have been a preacher for most of my adult life. John both encourages me and intimidates me.

• He encourages me for his bold forthrightness and his radical nonconformity, not caring what anyone thinks of him.
• And he intimidates me for his bold forthrightness and his radical nonconformity, not caring what anyone thinks of him.

Pastors want people to like them. John seems not to care about such matters. I can’t picture a church calling John to be their pastor, unless that church were somewhere out in the wilderness, where there is no competition.

Take his manner of dress. Some churches expect preachers to wear robes or albs. Some expect preachers to wear their Sunday best: modest dresses or tasteful pantsuits for women and coat and tie for men—all color coordinated. Some churches these days prefer shirts untucked and torn jeans. But no one is expecting what John wears: “John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist.” To be sure, I am wearing a belt today. And to meet all expectations, I am wearing a dress shirt and a well-chosen tie from my Advent collection, with a coat that looks like camel’s hair. And jeans, though they don’t have holes and faded patches. And I am wearing a robe given me by Brunswick Church at a milestone for me. And a stole that a friend made for me to wear in Advent, which I love to wear.

And what a diet John has: “he ate locusts and wild honey.” Since I gained about five pounds over Thanksgiving weekend, mainly from four varieties of homemade pies topped with generous portions of hand whipped cream, I am dieting now. Sort of. I have stopped eating pie all day long. If I used the Baptist’s diet, I expect I would need a lot of wild honey, maybe a ratio of 10 parts honey to one part locust, which is probably as bad as eating pie three times a day.

How John dresses and eats fits his setting: the wilderness. This wilderness is to the east of Jerusalem, that city that is the center of Israel’s cultural and religious life. I have been to this wilderness. It is desolate. Most of us are not naturally drawn to the wilderness. Life there is stark; the dominant color is sunbaked tan. And God uses the wilderness. Isn’t it interesting how God uses unexpected places? Bethlehem, Nazareth, Capernaum: these are backwater towns, whose names we would hardly know, save that God used them. And then there is the wilderness. Jesus never lives in Jerusalem. He visits there a few times. On his big visit, he is crucified.

A little later in Mark 1, right after Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan, listen to what Mark reports: “And a voice came from heaven: ‘You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.’ At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness,and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted^] by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.” (Mark 1:11-13.) “Congratulations on your baptism, Jesus. We are sending you on an all-expenses paid 40-day trip to the wilderness, where you will fast and be sorely tempted.” It is as if we were to say to little Sophie today right after her baptism, “Sophie, now we are sending you into the wilderness. We’ll pick you up in 40 days. Have a good time in the wilderness with the wild animals and angels.”

This has been a wilderness year for us, for the world, in so many ways. A global pandemic rages claiming over a quarter million lives in our country and approaching two million globally. The long journey toward racial justice has had some wilderness times in 2020. Our ability to be a democracy of civility and mutual respect is being tested. It has been a wilderness year and it’s not over. When we are in the wilderness, we need not like it, but we must not resent it. God is at work in the wilderness. In the wilderness, God does amazing things. Isaiah had another wilderness vision: “Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. . . . And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way.” (From Isaiah 35:6-8)

It is in the wilderness that we find John pointing everyone to Jesus. John is not for keeping Christ in Christmas; he is for getting Christ out of Christmas into people’s lives; in villages, cities, and yes, the wilderness. Probably all of us began following Jesus because there were people like John the Baptist sent by God, pointing us to Jesus. For me, that started with my mother. From my babyhood, she was pointing me to Jesus. She died four years ago at age 101, still faithfully following Jesus and pointing people to him. I hope she is listening in this morning; why shouldn’t there be live-streaming in heaven? And there has been a stream of other John the Baptist types who kept pointing me to Jesus. Not one of them dressed or ate like John, but they did John the Baptist ministry. Who have been some John the Baptist types in your journey? Perhaps you can name three right now. Here is our assignment: For those Johns in our lives that have died, let’s give thanks to God for them. For those that are still alive, let’s thank them. God uses people to bring us to Jesus and to bring Jesus to us.

In this wilderness time, in just three weeks among you, I see our deacons doing John the Baptist ministry. I see them making straight paths for people in need. I see them preparing the way of the Lord. I see them pointing people to Jesus. I am blessed to work with them. I am honored to be part of this team and this congregation, and to serve with these deacons.

But there is no straight way from Henrietta to Perinton. If we took Isaiah’s and John’s call to make straight paths from Henrietta to Perinton literally, we’d have to destroy a lot of nice homes and build a new highway. For this Advent season, I have chosen to drive from Henrietta to Perinton and back on the route that takes me through Pittsford, largely for one reason. There is a short road, Mitchell Road, that connects routes 96 and 31. Mitchell Road is two lanes, except where it crosses the Erie Canal it is one lane wide. There are no stop signs or traffic lights to control the traffic. That one lane for two-way traffic slows me down and makes me attentive to other people, whose time is just as valuable as mine. Drivers must be attentive and ready to yield to others and wait. Like Advent living: attentive and ready to yield to others. John calls me to be attentive, to prepare my heart for Jesus, to prepare the way for the Lord.

A Carol for a blue Advent/Christmas service

[Written for a “Blues Comfort and Hope” worship gathering for Perinton Presbyterian Church, on the Third Sunday of Advent, Dec. 13, 2020, at 3:00pm. This worship gathering is especially for those bereaved, whether from the death of a loved one or other circumstances of loss or disappointment. It will happen in the sanctuary, unless Covid prevents that, and live streamed.]

1. God rest you, weary travelers,
   Let nothing you dismay.
Remember Christ our Savior
   Was born on Christmas Day,
To save us all from Satan’s pow’r
   When we were gone astray.
Oh, tidings of comfort and hope,
   Comfort and hope,
Oh, tidings of comfort and hope.

2. The losses we experience

Weigh heavy on the soul.

But Jesus dwells among us

   To heal and make us whole.

He comes to mend the broken heart,

   The trembling hand to hold.

Oh, tidings of comfort and hope,
   Comfort and hope,
Oh, tidings of comfort and hope.

3. God rest you Jesus worshipers,

   The babe now reigns on high.

He promised to return again,

   The hour now draws nigh.

With comfort and with hope from God,

   We sing his lullaby.

Oh, tidings of comfort and hope,
   Comfort and hope,
Oh, tidings of comfort and hope.

4. God rest you, Jesus followers,

   When life is midnight blue.

The darkness yields to bright daybreak,

   Graced with the morning dew.

And Jesus will not rest until

   He makes the broken new.

Oh, tidings of comfort and hope,
   Comfort and hope,
Oh, tidings of comfort and hope.

Tune: Traditional English carol.   Lyrics: Harry J. Heintz (first stanza re-worked from original)

[This sermon, based on Matthew 25:14-30, was delivered on Nov. 15, 2020, at the Presbyterian Church in Brockport NY. I suggest that you read the passage in “The Message,” which handles it really well.]

My mother always hid cash around her home. In her later years, after my father had died, when I would visit her (I lived in another state), she would take me on a little tour, showing me where cash was hidden: some under her mattress, some in a dresser drawer, some in her china closet, some under the carpet in her closet. I would sometimes say, “Mom, put this cash in the bank where it can earn you some interest and be safer.” She would say, “I have money in the bank, but I want this money here just in case the bank fails, or if there is an emergency.” She was fourteen when the great depression hit in 1929 and banks by the hundreds failed. I couldn’t win this argument, so I followed her and made mental notes about where she hid her cash.

I don’t want to put my mother as the third servant in this parable, because she was a generous person and a wise investor. Her investment in me was enormous. This parable isn’t speaking to her financial practices. It is speaking to us about the ways we live, perhaps in surprising ways.

Up front I need to make clear that this parable is not about day trading stocks or gambling foolishly. This parable is not about capitalism or current American politics. It is about stewardship, but not in a narrow way. Since I preach in many churches, rarely in the same one two weeks in a row, I follow the lectionary, a calendar of scripture readings for every Sunday of the year. This parable is the gospel passage for today, not picked by me or you. Because this is the third Sunday of November, one might think that there were a pastor and a member of a church finance team on the lectionary committee. They thought, we need a good stewardship passage for this mid-November Sunday, one that will call people to make big pledges to the church budget for the new year. You are having your annual pledge Sunday in three weeks, so listen carefully. But my sermon today is not about making pledges for a church budget. It is about something far more comprehensive, a way of living.

It is Holy Week in Matthew 25. Jesus has entered Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey. Passover is at hand and for Jesus so is suffering and death. There is excitement and anticipation in the air. Chapters 21 through 25 of Matthew are filled with parables. They include some of the most difficult parables. This one seems not that difficult to understand, but difficult to do.

A wealthy man leaves on a journey. He calls three of his servants and entrusts to them large sums of money. The first two use what is entrusted to them. They invest it. They work with it. When the master returns, he asks how they have done with their trusts. Each has a good report. Each took some risks and enlarged their trusts. He gives the same response to each one:

“Well done, good and trustworthy servant; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”

But not the third one. He does the opposite of the first two. He hides the trust. He digs a hole in the ground and buries the trust. Jesus puts the spotlight on the third one, who offers an excuse: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed;so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.” His excuse reveals so much. His understanding of his master is distorted and his response is fearful timidity. He confesses that he sees his master as harsh and unfair. That leads to his damning three-word confession: “I was afraid. . . .” He is blaming the master more than himself.

Those three words jump out at me: “I was afraid. . . .” Afraid of what? Fear has two sides to it, a healthy side and an unhealthy side. Fear can mean holy awe and reverent respect. That is healthy. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” says Proverbs 9:10. God is worthy of this kind of fear, this holy awe. Fire is also worthy of our awe and respect. COVID-19 is worthy of our awe and that should shape our behavior: to wear masks, keep proper distances, wash our hands repeatedly, and avoid large indoor gatherings—these are acts of loving our neighbors. Healthy fear is a really good thing. But the unhealthy side of fear is that is can cripple and paralyze us. We can let fear dominate our lives in negative ways.

It is a sign of spiritual maturity to know the difference between healthy and unhealthy fear. The first two servants took healthy risks with their trusts. Their risks could have failed, but I don’t think the master would have judged them. I think the master would have commended them for trying. The master is pleased that they have sought to invest their trusts rather than hide and hoard them.

The third servant cowered in unhealthy fear and took no risk at all. Think of medical workers, especially nurses and doctors, during this pandemic. They know the risks of COVID-19 better than any others. And yet, they go to their hospitals and clinics five, six, sometimes seven days a week because they are entrusted with healing ministries. Some of them have spouses and children at home and self-quarantine to protect their families. They know the healthy fear of this virus and they take calculated risks to save lives.

Being a pastor of one church for 38 years, I am well acquainted with taking healthy risks. We faced numerous challenges and didn’t flinch. We prayed and sought to discern God’s will and choose to move forward in faith, even risky faith. One incident stays with me still. It was 1987. The congregation had been growing and needed more space to serve our children, youth, and start a day care ministry. We hired an architect to give us some options. He was a good listener and visionary thinker. We met with him one evening to see his plans. He showed us plan A and plan B. Both were good, but neither jumped out at our team as being exactly right. We told him what we really liked in each. So we asked him to produce another plan. Meanwhile, I had a dream one night that was vivid. I am a sound sleeper and don’t often remember dreams very well. But this one I remembered. The two plans he had brought us had all right-angle walls, everything perpendicular. In my dream, I saw one wall at an angle. I told no one. Two weeks after the first showing of drawings, we met with him again. He explained that he took the best of plans A and B and added some new touches. Then he unveiled the new plan, plan AB. I didn’t say anything, but watched the team as they looked at it. It had one dramatic wall at an angle with beautiful windows looking at our historic cemetery and a stand of mature trees. The team unanimously showed excitement about the new plan. A year later it was completed. Eight years later it was paid off. To this day it is serving a congregation. Was there risk involved? Yes. We made a move of risky faith and God honored it.

To fear God, that is to live in holy awe of the Lord, means we need not live in fear of anyone else. People of faith in the living Lord don’t live in unhealthy fear. They are willing to make investments that they believe honor God. What risks are ahead for you? I can’t answer. But I know that faithful living means that what God entrusts to us is not to be hoarded. Not to be buried. Not to be hidden. There was a study of 50 people 90 years old and older. They were asked, “If you had your life to live over, what would you do differently?” Two answers dominated:

1. “I would reflect more.”
2. “I would risk more.”

This parable calls us to reflect more and to risk more. What are we doing with what God has entrusted to us? If we get this parable right, we won’t have to worry about pledge cards and meeting budgets. If we get this parable right, we will live in faith that invests in God’s purposes, that invests in the advancement of the kingdom of God, that invests in people. If we get this parable right, we will hear those words from Jesus, our master: “Well done, good and trustworthy servant; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”

[This sermon was preached for  Pleasant Valley NY Presbyterian Church on 11/1/2020,               All Saints Day. The biblical texts are Micah 6:6-8 and Matthew 5:1-12.]

It is so attractive. Who wouldn’t want to sign up? Believe in Jesus and get anything you want whenever you want. Follow Jesus and get rich. Trust Jesus and you’ll never have a bad hair day, never experience failure, never know heartbreak. There are TV preachers who attract millions of followers with this stuff. There are shelves full of books about being a success in one’s business, love life, sports—whatever—by claiming a Bible verse here and there.

They are not quoting the Beatitudes, as we have come to know Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:1-12.  

They might want to quote John 10:10, where Jesus says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” As I read the Bible, and especially the life and teachings of Jesus, the abundant life isn’t what a lot of people think it is or want it to be. Jesus talks of our taking up our crosses and following him—and he laid down his life for others. He speaks of denying ourselves and opening ourselves to God. He says that his followers will know hardship. Nowhere does he say it more clearly than in John 16:33, “In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.” (quoted in “The Message”)

In the beatitudes we find that abundant life expressed in qualities, not quantities:

1. Being poor in spirit //  and experiencing the kingdom of God
2. Mourning // and being comforted
3. Being meek // and inheriting the earth
4. Hungering and thirsting for God // and being filled
5. Being merciful // and receiving mercy
6. Being pure in heart // and seeing God
7. Making peace // and being called children of God
8. Being persecuted // and experiencing the kingdom of God

I have the honor of teaching preaching at Northeastern Seminary in Rochester NY. I teach my students about the dangers of preaching more than one sermon at a time, but rather preaching one sermon with clear focus at a time. How shall I do that with these eight qualities of the abundant life of following Jesus? I will make some brief observations about the eight, then do my best to preach one sermon with clarity, so that you will remember the main thrust 30 minutes after this service is over. Of these eight qualities of the God honoring life, some involve being and some involve doing, and some both. Following Jesus always involves being and doing, with our doing growing out of our being.

Three of these strike me as more active, as something we are called to do. The first is about hungering and thirsting for righteousness. I confess that I don’t do that enough. It has been too long since I fasted a meal or more as an act of seeking God more than food. I need this reminder to let go of some good things in order to seek better things.

The second one is being merciful. Being merciful is seeing someone in need and doing something about it. Presbyterian deacons excel at this. Jesus was once asked about how to be in God’s favor for eternity. Jesus tells a story of beggar left for dead at the side of a road. Two religious types walked by and wouldn’t touch the man for fear of becoming ritually unclean. A third, a Samaritan, stopped and helped. Jesus asks, “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’

The third active one is making peace. I am troubled that there is too much war in our world and nations spend too much money preparing for war. I’m not naïve; I know that have a strong national defense can prevent war. But maybe it is enough already when a nuclear war between any two nations could wipe out the human race in a matter of a few days. But I think Jesus is getting more local and practical: peacemaking starts right where we live. In this contentious election season, there is need for peacemakers.

The other five beatitudes are not so much things we do as much as things we experience. None of these eight beatitudes are achievements or merit badges. These are life experiences to which we respond. These call us to be present to life as it is unfolding and responsive to God in the midst of life every day. The prophet Micah gives us a wonderful summary of this kind of living: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 5:8)

One of these qualities one is particularly apt for today, November 1, All Saints Day: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” We have just come through a devastating week in our journey with Covid-19. Nearly a thousand a day have died and an average of over 70,000 a day have tested positive in just the last week. We are dealing with death. Death is a reality every day in our world. Pastors know that well. One of the perks of being a long-term pastor was that I learned firsthand that death is real and has no age requirements. I cannot deny the reality of death and I don’t want to. My faith speaks to the great issues of life, including death. Our response to the reality of death: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” We follow Jesus, who wept at the death of a good friend, in mourning for our losses and those of others. And this Sunday is calls us to remember and give thanks for the saints that have gone before us. In your congregation we remember, what saints have died in the past year? Name them and give thanks for them.

I keep a journal every year, in which I jot down thoughts three or four times a week. At the back, I keep records: where I have preached, books I have read, movies I have watched, and a list of transitions, my word for friends and others that have died. In my journal this year, among many names, are these:

• Kathleen Buckley, a college pastor I was close to some years ago before we moved to different places. We last talked just over a year ago. I should have called her more.
• Freda Gardner, who was a moderator of the General Assembly of our denomination, and a friend.
• George Floyd, who was killed on a street in Minneapolis, and whose death awakened millions of Americans to the violence visited on Black men in our country.
• John Lewis, one of the great heroes of the civil rights movement in our country. I heard him speak in Rochester two years ago.
• Jim Zuckermandel, a friend of mine. He was one of the best athletes I have ever known, with a generous heart and sweet spirit. He died a year younger than I am of a devastating form of Parkinson’s disease. When a friend who is younger than you dies, it is always sobering.

I give thanks for these and so many others that have influenced my journey of faith.

Jesus calls us to be present in life, cultivating the qualities of blessing. Being a baseball fan and a native of Los Angeles, I watched the recent World Series with great interest. It was needed break from national politics. I especially enjoy watching Mookie Betts play baseball. He excels at every aspect of baseball and usually with a smile. His manager, Dave Roberts, was asked about what it’s like to coach Mookie. He said, “Mookie is always present.” That grabbed me. I want to live always present. The way Jesus describes always present living in the beatitudes.

What is the one sermon I want us to hear and take home today? That we are called by Jesus to be saints by living his way, being present in all of life with him, present in every circumstance, present for everyone around us, present with Jesus.

Life is a precious gift. Let’s be fully present, following Jesus who is always fully present with us. “God has shown us what is good. And what does the Lord require of us? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.” Blessed are those that are present with Jesus in all of life’s moments and experiences.

Some of my readers will be pleased to read this and some perhaps not so much. I am placing myself under voluntary restraint on Facebook. On my blog, sailingtowardwisdom.blog, I will continue to publish sermons I have preached and articles I have written, but never of partisan political nature, though some may deal with political matters.

Why? When I was a pastor at Brunswick Church, I wasn’t on Facebook, following wise counsel. I pastored a congregation with wonderful diversity, including wide political diversity. I didn’t want any of my political convictions and leanings to shape the congregation in a partisan way—I certainly didn’t want the congregation to be just like me. Every Sunday that I led the pastoral prayer, I mentioned those in governance, usually mentioning the president by name. The Bible leads me to do that. In my preaching I touched on politics, but never in a partisan way. I think the Gospel has a political edge to it. It speaks to how governing should work. The Gospel and politics share some concerns: how people treat other people, how law and mercy are balanced, how life is honored, how the needy receive care, etc.

When I retired, I went on Facebook. Along the way, I used the newfound freedom of my retirement to post some political statements and thoughts, usually written by me, but sometimes taken from others that I respect or whose thoughts I found worth pondering. I sifted those carefully, seeking to be fair and gracious, while speaking from my convictions. I expect that I failed that self-imposed test at times, for which I ask for forgiveness from those that I caused unnecessary offense. I did not post anywhere near half of what I was tempted to post, writing a good number of articles that never went public. Writing helps me to think through matters, so I always am writing and that will continue.

As of this day, I am entering a discipline of voluntary restraint, largely because in a short time I will join a church staff as a quarter time pastor. That means that, as in years past, I will be serving a congregation of healthy diversity—and I want it to be so. I don’t want to cause any unnecessary offense by my political views. I want to be faithful to the Good News (gospel) of Jesus, my Lord. In my preaching and teaching I will continue to touch on matters political, as I understand and am compelled by the scriptures, but never from a partisan perspective.

I am writing this just a few days before the 2020 election. It is a time of heightened rhetoric and tension. I will vote consistent with my convictions, but I don’t want to add to the political tensions in our nation. To the contrary, I want to be a person of grace and understanding, not putting aside or denying my convictions, but holding and expressing them in ways that are respectful of those holding different convictions. After all, I could be wrong. There is a quote I need to re-read from time to time: “I beseech ye in the bowels of Christ, think that ye may be mistaken.” (From Oliver Cromwell to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland on 3 August 1650, and later quoted by American Judge Learned Hand.) This is not always easy for me, but this is my goal. Whatever the outcome of the elections on Tuesday, I will pray for those that win and those that lose. I am an American patriot. I care about my country. I want it to be the best country it can be, which means I cannot overlook its errors. I have no illusions about its many flaws, historically and currently. And I hold to its highest ideals.

I am not leaving Facebook, because I appreciate the way it allows friendships to continue and grow, and for the many and varied perspectives that are expressed there about most everything. Granted, I skip some posts after two or three words because I find them offensive or inane. But I find many posts worthy of my time and thinking.

This development in my life, mentioned above, was not something I was seeking, but I am absolutely thrilled about it and have a deep sense of calling as I move into it. I didn’t know retirement was going to be so enjoyable! Some friends wonder if I am working too much in retirement. I appreciate their concern, but I respond that all I am doing in retirement is of great meaning to me (and I hope to others) and fits this season of my life really well. If that changes, I will make adjustments. I am grateful to God for the measure of good health and energy that I am experiencing, beyond anything I deserve. That may change at any time—any pastor knows that, as we minister with people at every stage of life and in every circumstance; we know well that life is filled with unfairness. And we know that life is filled with wonder. I take on this discipline of voluntary restraint as a good development for me in this time of my life. If you find that I fail to honor this, it was probably done in a weak moment. Be gentle with me.

[This message, based on Matthew 22:15-22, was delivered at John Calvin Presbyterian Church, Henrietta, NY, on October 18, 2020.]

Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality.  Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”  But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites?  Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius.  Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?”  They answered, “The emperor’s.” Then he said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.

“Death and Taxes.” The phrase has taken on a life of its own. Ben Franklin wrote it after the Constitution was ratified in 1789. “Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” By mentioning taxes, and thereby politics, this morning, I may be hastening my own death. But this passage assigned me by the lectionary leads me to address politics in the form of taxes.

There could hardly have been a more fitting month than this one for this passage dealing with Jesus’ teaching about taxes, hence politics, and about our loyalties.

• A presidential election is just over two weeks away, and millions of Americans have already voted early.
• A global pandemic has been especially hard on our country, with over 8,000,000 cases of inflection and over 220,000 deaths due to it. Millions of people are suddenly unemployed or underemployed. Thousands of small businesses, and some large ones, across our nation have been forced to close down because of this pandemic.
• A nominee for associate justice for the Supreme Court has been in hearings with the Senate judicial committee all last week. When her nomination comes before the Senate, it is sure to be a contentious time with a close party-line vote.
• It is reported that our president has paid no federal income taxes in most of the last

15 years and just $750 in his first year in office.

Is that enough? Are you tired of it all? I am planning to vote early. I will be in line Saturday morning when early voting begins. I will feel some relief when I cast my ballot, but not much.

We often hear churchgoers say, “We don’t want the preacher talking about politics.” I agree and I don’t agree. I think the better thing to say is, “We don’t want the preacher talking about partisan politics and telling us which candidate to vote for.” I agree with that. Yet I want preachers to talk about politics, but not in a partisan way. Politics is a good word that has been too much abused these days. It comes from the Greek word for city: polis. From polis we get metropolis, Minneapolis, and police. And politics. The word means the governing of the city, or town, or state, or nation. All of social life is political. It has to do with how people relate to each other in society. In a sense, marriage is political, parenting is political, school is political. Life is political. Jesus fields a political question from some Pharisees and Herodians.

This conversation takes place during Holy Week, as Jesus is in Jerusalem for Passover and for his passion at week’s end. The Pharisees have regularly been looking to entrap him. Jesus threatens them, for they hold religious power and don’t want to give it up. In the New Testament, the most dangerous occupation is not fishing or tax-collecting: the most dangerous occupation is religious leadership. And the religious leaders are frightened by this young rabbi Jesus, for he won’t fit into their religious categories, their neat boxes, their lists with checkmarks, their circles defining who is in God’s favor and who is outside God’s favor. Now it is worse: they team up with Herodians, effectively a political party. Now we have an alliance of religious leaders and political leaders and that can be toxic, then as well as now. It will be a coalition of religious and political leaders that will sentence Jesus to crucifixion. For good reason did our founders call for a separation of church and state. Our nation is a secular nation, with no state sanctioned or favored religion, but freedom for people to believe and worship as they will.

They start with a classic butter up, then set the snare. “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality.Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” The mousetrap is baited with gooey peanut butter. If Jesus says that taxes are good, he sides with Rome, the capital of an empire that holds people under its heel. If Jesus says that taxes are bad, he is a protester, an insurrectionist, even a criminal against the Roman governmental system—no better than one of those football players kneeling for the national anthem. Knowing exactly what they are doing, he asks for a coin. One is brought to him. He holds it up. “Whose image is on it?” They all know the answer: “The emperor’s.”

I picture a moment of silence. A pregnant silence. What will he say? If this is a movie, the music stops and the camera slowly scans the questioners, then stops with full frame on the face of Jesus. The tension is palpable. What will he say? Will he take the bait? Will the trap snap on him? Unlike so many politicians today, he doesn’t evade the question. He answers, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” 

They are amazed, but not in a positive way. They are stunned and silenced. They walk away dejected. The trap misfires. But they don’t forget what he says, even if they will not understand. Do we understand? Jesus acknowledges that paying taxes is good. Even if the receivers of the taxes are not. Taxes serve a good purpose. Romans 13:7 says, “Pay to all what is due them—taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due.” We should not resent paying taxes. If we like paved roads, and well-placed traffic lights, the snow on our roads plowed, and good schools for all children, then we like taxes. If we like having law enforcement, emergency services, clean water, fire departments with the best equipment, and working sewer systems to make life healthy for all, then we like taxes. Paying taxes, when they are fair and honest, is good. I find it troubling that 91 of the largest 500 corporations in our country paid no taxes last year. I find it troubling that the super-wealthy often pay no taxes or small taxes, while middle class and poor people pay a higher percentage of their income, because tax codes are unfair and those that can afford clever lawyers can beat the system.

Jesus endorses paying taxes as does the rest of the Bible, but he has something more to say. If our money bears the image of our political leaders, whose image do we bear? You know the answer. We find it in the first chapter of the Bible. We are created in the image of God. “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” Every human being, even the ones that disagree with my political convictions, bears the image of God.

When I cast my early ballot next weekend, it will not be with any illusions that my candidate will be able to solve all of our problems. While I believe in the institution of human government, I know that human government is flawed because all humans are flawed. Democrats are flawed and Republicans are flawed, and independents are flawed. My assumption this morning is that some of us are Republicans, some of us Democrats, and some of us independents. Good. I don’t want us all to be exactly the same. Whatever our political leanings, let’s be generous in spirit with one another, for we are all image bearers of God.

President Shirley Mullen of Houghton College wrote a letter last week calling for a courageous middle. There was an incident on campus that was dividing the student body. President Mullen named the matter, an act of good leadership, and then called for being people of a courageous middle, bridging people together rather than erecting walls of separation. That is a good description of how the church should be a time of political division and too much partisanship. Whether Democrats, Republicans, or independents, we can be people of the courageous middle.

Martin Luther King, Jr., was prophetic when he wrote these words a generation ago, during a time of civil unrest in our land: “The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority.”

The next time a tax bill comes, let’s smile that we are able to pay taxes and pay our fair share.  But let us never forget that we bear the image of God. Our first allegiance is not to any political party or any nation; our first allegiance is to God our creator.

[I gave this at Community of the Savior in Rochester NY on October 4, 2020. The parable mentioned in the title is in Matthew 21:33-46, accompanied in the message by Philippians 3:4b-14. This can also be found in video form on the Community of the Savior YouTube or Facebook channel.]

I don’t like this parable. Do you have a favorite parable of Jesus? I bet it isn’t this one. Perhaps it is the Good Samaritan. I love that one. Or the waiting father with the runaway younger son—the Prodigal. I love that one. Or that pithy one about finding the pearl of great price. I love that one. But not this one. It’s like watching a Martin Scorsese movie: we know that whatever the story line, some unnecessary violent bloodshed is likely coming. It comes quickly in this parable.

A landowner has a big crop of grapes ready for picking. He has tenants working for him. He sends in three servants to do this hard work. The tenants seize them, beating one, stoning another, and killing the third one. The landowner sends in another group. The same thing happens. The landowner sends in his son, thinking surely his son will be treated better. His son is also killed. Jesus is telling this in Jerusalem as Passover is approaching: it is holy week. The city is filled with religious leaders and pious people. Jesus asks the religious leaders, “What will the landowner do those merciless tenants?” The answer is obvious: “Kill those wretched tenants.” Then Jesus deftly quotes from Psalm 118: “Haven’t you read in the Bible: ‘The stone which the craftsmen rejected was selected as the cornerstone?’” It’s a gotcha moment.

In “The Message,” Eugene Peterson identifies the targeted hearers this way:

“God’s kingdom will be taken back from you and handed over to a people who will live out a kingdom life.When the religious leaders heard this story, they knew it was aimed at them.” 

In “The Cotton Patch” version of Matthew (a fresh take on the Gospel by Clarence Jordan, setting it in 20^th century rural Georgia), the parable ends this way:

“The God Movement will be taken out of your hands and turned over to people who will be productive. . . . The ministers and church people listened to his Comparison, and were aware that it was aimed at them.”

What would you see as the most dangerous occupation in the New Testament? I have my choice and I think I’m right. It is an occupation with which I am well acquainted. Does that give you a clue? Yes, I think the most dangerous occupation, the one most to be avoided, is religious leader. The New Testament sees being a religious leader as dangerous. Ouch! Jesus had the hardest time with the religious leaders, or perhaps more accurately, the religious leaders had the hardest time with Jesus, who wouldn’t fit into their neat religious categories.

Saul of Tarsus was a religious leader. His credentials were impeccable. His sash was filled with merit badges. His pedigree was impressive—he was best in show. He lists seven items: circumcised on the right day, an Israeli citizen, born in the elite tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew to the core, a Pharisee keeping the whole law, so zealous for his religion that he persecuted followers of Jesus, and flawless in attaining righteousness through keeping the law. His bottom line? If anyone could earn God’s favor, it was he. Yahweh had to be thrilled to have Saul on his team.

And then—boom! —everything changes. The risen Jesus reveals himself to Saul, and old Saul’s transformation is so radical, so thorough, that his name has to change too. Old law-keeping goody, goody Saul becomes captured-by-the-grace-of-Jesus Paul. He is saved, redeemed, and transformed—not by meticulous law-keeping, which he had worked so hard to do, but by the amazing grace of Jesus that found him, which he could never earn or merit.

This new-found freedom means that Paul enters a journey of letting go of what he once held so tightly and pressing on toward living in this incredible grace found in Jesus. Paul will take all that he once valued: all his merit badges, all his Sunday school perfect attendance pins, all his Bible memorization certificates, all that he once used to prove to himself and others that God was pleased with him, and trash them. “I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ. . . .” “The Message” lets Paul’s words be more earthy: “The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash. . . . All the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him.”

That word translated “rubbish” in the NRSV is more accurately the “dog dung” of “The Message.” I don’t like to use Greek words in preaching, but here I make an exception. The word is “skubala” and it literally means—what you probably are thinking it means. Refuse, dung, dog dodo, excrement. Sometimes we experience or observe things that hurt or bother us deeply, so much so that we are prone to use more colorful language than we usually use. Earthly, salty language. Here is such a word found right in the New Testament: “skubala.” I think that gives us permission to use it, but, please, only at appropriate times and ways. Did Jesus ever use salty language? Yes. Read Matthew 23: “hypocrites, blind guides, white-washed tombs.” Again, I find “The Message” effective at getting Jesus’ colorful language:

“You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You’re like manicured grave plots, . . . six feet down it’s all rotting bones and worm-eaten flesh. People look at you and think you’re saints, but beneath the skin you’re total frauds.” The whole of Matthew 23 is Jesus speaking to the religious leaders of the day. The bishops and presbyters. The clergy. The right reverend doctors, with their flowing garments, stiff necks, and cold hearts.

A New Testament scholar, F. F. Bruce, wrote a magisterial book on Paul’s life journey. He entitled it: “Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free.” My story is not as dramatic as Paul’s, but it is similar. I was raised in this faith, knowing about Jesus from my mother’s knee. And never have I strayed far from it. I worked hard at pleasing God and was somewhat successful in the eyes of others. I was a good kid, faithful in Sunday school and worship. I memorized enough Bible verses to go to summer camp free. I have been a religious leader for most of my adult life. And that is dangerous. Religious leaders can be enemies of God’s grace, territorial tenants like those in that terrible parable. I have increasing sympathy with people that find Jesus more attractive but the Church less unattractive, as it too often communicates judgmentalism and harsh legalism, as it looks down at the kind of people Jesus loves to be with. As religion is popularly understood, I don’t want to be religious. Because I love the Lord, I love his Church, even though I am often offended and embarrassed by church leaders and religious people. I want my love for Jesus to grow, and I want the Church to work at being more like him. I want to be more like Jesus, who is ever reaching out to the unlovely, touching the untouchables, caring for the most needy. I have so far to go.

With Paul, I want to leave behind and forget anything that leads me to think I have earned God’s favor—all that skubala—and exchange all that religious stuff with the grace of God in Christ that has found me and set my heart free.

“Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, let us press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.”

[The sermon was preached for Gates Presbyterian Church, Rochester, NY, on 9/20/20. The texts: Matthew 20:1-16 and Exodus 16:1-8.]

On a whim, my wife brought home a young pumpkin plant from The Garden Factory when she went to get garden plants and seeds last spring. We hadn’t planted a pumpkin plant before. Rachel is the master of our veggie garden and I am the day laborer. So I had to find a place for the pumpkin, which spreads quite a bit. There was an unsightly corner behind our shed, so I cleared the weeds and turned the soil—and in went the pumpkin plant. By early summer we saw four very small, still green pumpkins forming. By mid-summer they were larger and becoming orange. A few weeks ago I noticed that they had stopped growing and were just the right color so I decided to harvest them for decorating in our home. They were still small, but bright orange. I lifted the first one, and found that it has rotted on the underside. Three to go. The second one also was rotting. And the third one. And the fourth one.

I guess I made some rookie errors, particularly in not checking them by hand daily and in waiting too long to pick them. A good grape farmer knows better. There is a right time to pick grapes. Too early and their flavor is not mature. But a day too late may be too late. Grapes are dependent on weather conditions, liking cool nights and warm days. When it is time to pick them, they are to be picked. It may turn too cold or too warm or to windy or rainy tomorrow. To make fine wine, the grapes must be picked at the right time.

This parable of the day workers in the vineyard is probably not anyone’s favorite parable of Jesus. Do you have a favorite parable? I wonder if it’s the parable of the prodigal, or the lost sheep, or the lost coin. I love those parables. Only Matthew records this parable and it causes some head scratching. It runs against our well-developed sense of fairness.

The parable depends on knowing the setting: the vintner needs extra workers today. There was, and is today, a place in Jerusalem where day laborers go to get what work is available. My dad was a union carpenter and had a regular job, but he knew there was a carpenters’ union hall where unemployed or underemployed carpenters could go in the morning and see if day workers were needed, where he could go if he needed work.

The landowner has a crop of high quality grapes ripe and ready for picking today. There is urgency in this. He goes to the grape-pickers’ union hall to get some day workers. He finds a crew at 6am and employs them for a fair day wage, say about $100. Soon he realizes that the grape crop is a bumper crop and he needs more workers today. He goes back to the grape-pickers’ union hall at 9am and hires a few more. And again at noon. And again at 3pm. Still, he sees that he will need more help before sunset, so he goes back to the all at 5pm, probably thinking there wouldn’t be anyone there, but he was desperate. Aha! There are a few workers hanging out at the hall at 5pm, probably having a beer and playing darts. They don’t look very motivated, probably content with some unemployment checks. He hires them for the rest of the workday, which is precisely one hour.

These five waves of workers get the job done. Since they are day workers and not salaried, they are to get paid at the end of the work day. The landowner now does two things no one sees coming. First, he says to his business manager, pay the last workers first. That is the wrong order: you should pay the first ones to arrive, the ones who worked all day, first. Second, his manager pays the one-hour workers the full day’s wage, $100, and all the others can see it. When they saw the one-hour workers getting such a generous wage, they did the math and figured they would be getting 12x$100=$1200. But they all get $100, the one-hour, three-hour, six-hour, nine-hour, and 12-hour workers. The 12-hour workers are irate. This isn’t fair. The 12-hour workers grumble and complain, and for good reason. It isn’t fair.

Jesus sets a tension before us: will it be understandable grumbling or extravagant grace? With which day workers are we identifying now? The one-hour latecomers or the 12-hour exhausted workers? Are we with the one-hour latecomers, smiling all the way to the bank or are we with the 12-hour workers with sore backs and sun burnt brows?

The landowner makes his defense to the grumblers. “I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? . . . .  I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?” Are you envious because I am generous? Ouch!Extravagant grace can be a tough pill to swallow when we have a sense of violated fairness. This isn’t how the game is supposed to be played.

Let’s be clear. This parable is not about marketplace economics, minimum wages, or union rules. Jesus takes an everyday situation, one his hearers could easily picture, and uses it to make his point. And it is a staggering point: in the economy of God’s grace, the old ways of bookkeeping don’t apply. The ledger can’t handle this. There is something about God’s grace in Jesus that smashes old categories and throws our old sense of fairness out the window. As the hymn has it:

            There’s a wideness in God’s mercy like the wideness of the sea;

            There’s a kindness in God’s justice, which is more than liberty. . . .

            For the love of God is broader then the measures of the mind

            And the heart of the Eternal is most wonderfully kind. (Frederick William Faber)

And the 12-hour workers grumbled. If we have lived any length of time, we know there is much in life that simply isn’t fair. This person smoked heavily for 50 years and is cancer free and is golfing three times a week, while this other person who never smoked has lung cancer and can hardly walk. Unfair! This single mom worked to open a small business she had dreamed about only to see COVID-19 cause it to close, while this other person got a huge inheritance and bet it on a race horse that won big and ended up wealthy. Unfair! You get the picture: there is unfairness all about us. Sometimes we seem to be on the upside of it and sometimes on the downside. It’s like Charlie Brown’s sister, Sally, in the “Charlie Brown Christmas Special.” Sally is writing a letter to Santa Claus and generates an enormous list of toys she wants. Then she writes, “But if that is too much to carry, just send cash.” Charlie Brown sees this list and despairs over his sister’s greed. Sally indignantly responds, “All I want is my fair share. All I want is what I have coming to me.” (I found this in notes on the passage by Scott Hoezee in The Center for Excellence in Preaching.) Do we choose understandable grumbling or extravagant grace?

And the 12-hour workers grumbled. Maybe they took their cues from the people of Israel right after God delivered them out of slavery in Egypt. They had cried to God for deliverance. God heard and answered. Then one month removed from Egypt, on their way to the promised land, they started grumbling. “At least in Egypt we had three meals a day. Better to die there than live like this.” They grumbled against Moses and against God. The word grumbling or complaining is found seven times in this short passage. God had every right to send them back to slavery or let them starve in the wilderness. But, instead, God showed extravagant grace and provided them fresh bread for every day of the journey. Do we choose understandable grumbling or extravagant grace?

I said earlier that this parable of the workers in the vineyard is probably not anyone’s favorite parable of Jesus. Except, maybe, it is the favorite parable of Jesus for one small group in every church: the latecomers. I don’t mean people that arrive for worship 10 minutes late every Sunday. I mean people for whom the grace of God in Christ dawned late in their lives. I mean people that lived years and decades away from grace, either because they wanted to live their own way or they just didn’t know about Jesus until late in the game. I am also talking about church people that once lived by the old bookkeeping system, keeping track of who was there every Sunday and who put an envelope in the offering plate every Sunday, and keeping count of people with too many tattoos and body piercings—and then finally saw that God’s grace couldn’t be contained in their old containers. I am seeing good news in this surprising parable about God’s lavish, extravagant grace. Do we choose understandable grumbling or extravagant grace?

Both major party conventions are over. Yea! While both parties said this would be the most important election in our lifetimes (or in the history of this nation, or of this planet, or of the universe), I say:

• This will be the most important presidential election since the last one.

• This will be the most important presidential election until the next one.

• Every presidential election is important.

It would be refreshing if the candidates campaigned primarily on what they offer to us: their vision for our country, their values, convictions, and experiences.

Voting should be made easy and convenient for every American citizen. That should include in-person voting at sites close to the voters, located and staffed so that there will not be lengthy waits. That should also include mail-in voting, whatever the reason, and early voting. Days of presidential elections should be national holidays, making voting readily accessible to all persons. Our economy can handle that every four years.

Every vote cast should count the same as every other vote cast. One person equals one vote. Because one lives in a large state or a small state, in an urban area or a rural area, in a Democrat-leaning state or Republican-leaning state, should make no difference. One person gets one vote, with all votes carrying the same weight.

To get an accurate vote count, it is acceptable that we not know on the night of the election which candidate wins. But (except in extraordinary circumstances, like the 2000 election) we should know the outcome in a few days. In the matter of the 2000 election, a Supreme Court ruling of 5 to 4 was unfair to a democratic system of government. That meant that one Supreme Court justice effectively decided which candidate would be president. We can do better than that.

The debates should have a fact-checking report in a closing 10-minute section, done by a non-partisan group including media representatives and one advisor to each candidate (this was someone else’s idea—Thomas Freidman’s, I think). Debates should help us see where candidates disagree and why, and how they intend to govern. They should also show us where candidates agree.

When debate moderators give a time limit for answers, it should be enforced. At the very least, the mic of the candidate speaking too long should be turned off at the time allotted. If the candidate keeps talking, audio and video coverage should stop and time be deducted from that candidate’s next response. Candidates should be allowed to challenge and question each other, with the moderator(s) moderating.

Most police officers are doing a good job. Some police officers, probably a small percentage, are not doing a good job, showing racist and brutal tendencies; they should be identified and removed from duty. Then they should receive due process. If found guilty of crimes, they should lose their jobs as police officers for life, as well as face other punishments commensurate to their crimes.

Most protesters are protesting in peaceful ways. Some protesters, probably a small percentage, are not protesting in peaceful ways. If they are harming other people or property, they should be identified and arrested, but not violently (violence breeds violence). Then they should receive due process. If found guilty of crimes, they should face punishments commensurate to their crimes.

Most protest marches are peaceful and respectful (I have been in several; family members of mine have been in more). People should be allowed to march for their causes. People should be allowed to make public protests. This is a constitutional right. This nation was founded on political protest.

There are both right-wing extremists and left-wing extremists. Always. There are both right-wing zealots and left-wing zealots doing harm to our common causes and concerns. There are both right-wing hate-mongers and left-wing hate-mongers. Every political party and every political viewpoint has some extremists. I believe that the majority of Republicans and Democrats agree on much, perhaps more than they know.

Patriotism is not blind loyalty or uncritical allegiance to one’s country. Patriotism is a critical love of and appreciation for one’s country, with a desire to see its flaws, past and present, honestly named and addressed. Patriots press us on to be a “more perfect union.” Patriots don’t say things like, “America, love it or leave it.” Patriots say things like, “Let’s make our country better than it has ever been.”

Most Republicans and most Democrats share a love for our country and a desire to help it become a better country. Most conservatives and most liberals share a love for our country and a desire to help it become a better country. Most independents love our country and desire it to be a better country. Let’s find ways to hold our political convictions and advocate for our causes with respect for those holding different political convictions.

[This message was given for the Community of the Savior in Rochester NY, August 30, 2020. The lead text is Exodus 3:1-15. A video can be found on their FaceBook page.]

 

Here! When I was in college, a long time ago, some professors took attendance by reading the names of the students. When your name was read, you would say, here. Some professors never looked up, they just read the names and checked as present those that said, here. A few of us in one class noted this and designed a plan to be marked as present while skipping class. It was in southern California, so the weather was usually boringly pleasant. Before the professor arrived, we made sure the windows on the side wall were opened. When class was starting, we were outside the classroom next to the windows, ducking so as not to be seen. When my name was read, I said, here, and took off with a few friends, probably for a serious study session at the beach nearby.

 

Here! That makes me feel somewhat akin to Moses. Not every day does one walk casually by a bush that is burning but not being consumed by the fire. That catches Moses’ sight. He stops and takes a closer look. God has caught his attention and addresses him by name. Not every day does one see a burning bush that isn’t being consumed, and from which one hears one’s name called twice. “Moses, Moses!” A few days ago I read that Anthony Martignetti died. If you are of my generation, you will likely remember a TV commercial for Prince spaghetti. It was filmed in Little Italy in North Boston, where Anthony, then 12, lived. An Italian mama opens her window and yells, “Anthony! Anthony!” Anthony leaves his afterschool game and runs home. Then a voiceover explains: “Wednesday is Prince spaghetti day.”

 

“Moses, Moses!” Moses answers, “Here I am.” In the original language, it is a one-word response: here! Present. Here I am. Right response. God says, “Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” This is the first time in the Bible the word holy is found and it is not used of God or of Moses, but of some little ordinary plot of earth. Earth is holy. Psalm 24 begins, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it….”

 

This makes me think of a favorite little poem by Emily Dickinson:

Earth is crammed with heaven, // And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees // Takes off his shoes – // The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries.

This would be a good time for us to take off our sandals, or shoes and socks or flip flops or slippers. We too are on holy ground as we worship the living God and hear his word. God is present with us; we are on holy ground. When we learn this from Moses and God in Exodus 3, perhaps we will start seeing all ground as holy because God is the creator of all the earth and the entire cosmos.

 

It all starts at stop. God initiates and Moses stops. God gets Moses’ attention. All relationships with God start with God initiating and our stopping. God sets a bush ablaze and Moses stops. God is always the initiator. We are always the responders. God initiates; Moses responds. Bushes are still ablaze in our world. God is still getting our attention and speaking our names. The Black Lives Matter movement has a powerful phrase: say their names. George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Jacob Blake. Names are important. Black Lives Matter and blue lives matter. Six years ago, a Rochester police officer was killed in the line of duty. His name: Daryl Pierson Names matter. “Moses, Moses!” Bushes are still ablaze. God is still speaking. God knows our names. If we stop, we may hear God calling us by name. God has called me by name, but the voice has never been audible. But I know others that have heard God call them in audible ways.

 

The conversation that ensues is fascinating.

• God speaks first. “I am the God of your ancestors. I have seen the suffering of my people. I have heard their groanings. I know their sufferings. I have come to deliver them. I’m going to do it, Moses. Now, you go tell Pharaoh.” Now STOP has changed to GO.’; from red light to green light.
• Moses responds, perhaps while his bare feet are shaking: “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh…?” “Here I am” has become “who am I.”
• God speaks again: “I will be with you…”
• Moses responds again: That will be great, but, “What if they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?”
• God speaks again: “God says, ‘I am whoI am.’ He said further, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.’” 

 

In the next chapter in Exodus, we find Moses voicing yet one more objection and offering a plan B. In Exodus 4:10, Moses says that he is not eloquent, but slow of speech. God answers, I know, and says, Go. Then Moses counters with his plan, “Lord, please send someone else.”

 

The Bible tells of many reluctant prophets. We think of Jonah, but he is not alone. Isaiah and Jeremiah weren’t always thrilled about God’s directions for them. Neither was Amos. Neither, at one point, was Jesus. When we are hesitant about heeding God’s direction for us, we are not alone; we are in good company.

 

Moses would go to Pharaoh and God would deliver his people out of bondage. And Moses would never forget a burning bush, a voice calling his name, and a strange name for God. My biblical Hebrew is rusty, but my friend Richard Middleton’s biblical Hebrew is current. He shared some insights with me about this ineffable name for the mysterious one. The most common translation is ‘I am who I am.’ We can’t go wrong with that. Jesus uses that divine I AM of himself repeatedly, especially in the Gospel of John. Jesus says on John 8:58, “I tell you, before Abraham was, I am.”  But there is another equally valid translation: “I will be who I will be.” That fits well in Exodus 3, where God tells Moses that God will deliver Israel and Moses gets to share this good news with the powerful Pharaoh. Moses, tell Pharaoh “I will be who I will be” sent you and watch will Yahweh will do.

 

Either way, we don’t define God. God reveals God. We respond. In my Presbyterian tradition, we have a brief, classic definition of God: “God is a spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.” (Westminster Shorter Catechism) That’s good, but it’s also audacious of us. We don’t define God, this Yahweh, this “I am who I am,” this “I will be who I will be.” God is the glorious mystery, the mysterious glory, the creator of all that is, seen and unseen, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. My wife has a favorite quote that goes something like this: “Theology isn’t a way of explaining everything, but is an ultimate grounding in hope.” I like that.

 

Moses engages in honest conversation with Yahweh. God can handle honest conversation.  I don’t have trouble with Peter pulling Jesus aside and saying, “It shouldn’t go this way, Jesus. We don’t want this to happen to you.” That is honesty. I agree with Peter, but then Peter and I aren’t God. I AM is God. Yahweh is God. We are relieved of the burden of trying to be God.

 

I find that a lot of my praying is telling God what to do. Is that true for you too? God, heal this one. Lord, get that one a job. God, help my candidate to win. That is not altogether bad, but it can be. If we only tell God what we want and when we want it, it doesn’t say much about who we believe God to be. It isn’t a very healthy relationship. As if God were dependent on us to remind him what needs to be done. That is a kind of prayer, but it is not the purest form, the deepest kind of praying. When Jesus faces the impending suffering and death that he had told his disciples about, he shows his full humanity. First he asks for a plan B, but then he leaves it to God. I like the way “The Message” renders that prayer: “My Father, if there is any way, get me out of this. But please, not what I want. You, what do you want?”

 

“Earth is crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God….”  The next time we see a burning bush or hear some mysterious voice calling us by name, whether audibly or not, here is how we might respond: “Here. Here I am. Right here on holy ground.” Then we might just get a new glimpse of the mysterious glory of Yahweh, the I AM, the I will be.” And God might just say something like, “I’ve come to deliver people in bondage. Now, you go and work with me.”