Psalm 31: 9-16
Philippians 2:5-11
Mark 15: 1-47
Exactly ten years ago I was visiting an Episcopal Church on Palm Sunday. The service had begun with the Procession of the Palms and the readings of Jesus’ triumphal procession into Jerusalem, and the readings had concluded with a reading of the Passion Account of Jesus’ crucifixion. The priest then went to the pulpit and began his sermon with these words: “The idea that Jesus died for our sins has caused more suffering and evil than any other idea in the history of the world!” He then proceeded to preach a sermon in which he outlined every horrible event in the history of the church—I think he talked about the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the religious wars between Catholics and Protestants, Antisemitism; I’m fairly certain he mentioned the Nazi holocaust—and he stated repeatedly throughout the sermon that all these horrible events could be traced to a single idea—that Jesus had died for the sins of the world. We then stood and said the Creed.
Without commenting on this priest’s orthodoxy—which was certainly lacking—one might ask what could possibly motivate someone to make such an outrageous claim? From the pulpit no less? Well, if the priest was intending not to comment on the church’s teaching but on its practice, he might well have had a point. We need to be honest that there have been plenty of times in church history when Christians have just got it wrong. (more…)
I was privileged to preach the eulogy at my father’s funeral on January 29, 2007. I needed to take some time before I could share this.
What can I say about my father, Leon Witt?
First, my father was a fighter.
They say that into every life a little rain must fall, and Dad certainly had his share of hard times. He was born in 1930, one year after the stock market crashed. His mother, his father, and his three brothers lived as migrant farmers in the Dust Bowl years of the Great Depression. I have heard him describe being in a tent with the wind blowing, and the dust so thick that during the middle of the day you needed a Coleman lantern to see to the other side of the tent. His father died of a heart attack by the side of the road next to the family Model A when my father was only ten. From then on, Dad’s mother raised four boys by herself in New Mexico, and Dad became the family cook at ten years old. (more…)
With Holy Week soon upon us, I thought this an appropriate sermon to repost.
In the epistle which we read this morning, St. Paul introduces the metaphor or image of “justification” to describe what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. “Since we are justified by faith,” he says, “we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Rom. 5:1). The doctrine of “justification by faith” utilizes legal language and draws upon the metaphor of God as our “Judge.” This language appears throughout Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, which is in many respects one long meditation on the meaning of the justice of God and of God’s role as Judge of sinful humanity.
This metaphor of God as Judge is perhaps one that has left an unfortunate legacy to the Western church. (The Eastern churches have largely focused on other metaphors, like that of re-creation.) This juridical language, combined with the Western heritage of Roman law, has left us with an overly legal understanding of what it means to say that God has saved us in Jesus Christ. We Western Christians have too often interpreted God’s work in Jesus Christ as a juridical process in which we sinners deserved the punishment of eternal damnation, but God let us off by punishing his innocent Son Jesus instead. I remember that as a child I liked Jesus very much, but I wasn’t too sure about God the Father. He was a bit too rigid, I thought.
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I preached this sermon a few years ago, and it was on my old website. With Lent upon us, I thought people might find it helpful again.
Lent is a time of the Church year that is dedicated to repentance, to dying to self. During these six weeks, we enter a period of self-examination, of humility, of repentance, of “acknowledg[ing] and bewail[ing] our manifold sins and wickedness.” Rather than affirming out choices, Lent seems to be about denying our choices. You do not have to be a genius to realize that this message of self-denial is out of touch with the values of our society. The message of the beer commercials and of most of the television shows on my television set is not one of self-denial, but of self-affirmation. The “swimsuit” edition of Sports Illustrated, which I did not notice in the grocery aisle last week, was not telling me to hold back. Even within the Christian churches, the message of self-affirmation has (broadly speaking) replaced the message of self-denial. More than ten years after Jim Baker and Jimmy Swaggart, there are still some TV evangelists who preach that God wants you to be rich or healthy or successful. If you’re not, it must be because you don’t have enough faith. On a less crass level, there are theologians, bishops and pastors within the Episcopal Church, the Roman Catholic Church, and the mainline Protestant churches who affirm that the self should be valued, not denied.
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The following is a sermon that appeared on my website, and never made it to my blog. Sometimes an example is better than an argument. Perhaps what I write below shows something of what I mean when I say that Scripture is “formally sufficient” and has an “inherent intelligibility.” Other helpful examples can be found in my article on George Herbert in my “Pages” section in the sidebar and my sermon on “Christological Subversion.” . . . Or you could just read all of my sermons.
O ne of the prerogatives of the preacher is that, since he or she is the one in the pulpit, he or she can also break the rules on occasion. This morning, I’d like to break the rules a little bit. Rather than preaching on the Scriptural readings, I’m going to talk about them. In a few minutes, you’ll realize what I mean by that.
What I would like to do this morning is talk a little bit about the use of metaphorical and symbolic language in Scripture. Metaphor and symbol are the primary ways in which the language of the Scripture speaks of God. This happens so frequently that often we don’t even think about it. A good example is the number of images that cluster around Jesus in the NT. In the NT, Jesus is called a King, a Lamb, a Priest, a Shepherd, a Judge—the list goes on and on.
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“Is the LORD among us or not?” That is the question that the people of Israel asked Moses, according to this morning’s Old Testament reading. The God of Moses had delivered the Israelites from bondage in Egypt; he had rescued them from the hotly pursuing armies of Pharoah as they crossed the Red Sea; he then entered into a legal contract with them at Mount Sinai, a contract in which God promised the people that if they would keep his commandments, he would take care of them. That is the background to this morning’s reading from the Book of Exodus. But between the rescue at the Red Sea and the Sinai story are sandwiched a series of other stories that are almost comical if you read them one right after another, and this morning’s story is one of them. The first thing that happens is that the water tastes bad, so the people complain. Moses calls on God, and God fixes the water. Then there is nothing to eat. So the people complain again: “In Egypt, we were slaves, but at least we had three square meals a day.” So that night, a huge flock of quails arrive, and everyone has poultry for dinner. In the morning, God provides a special kind of bread, called manna, and he provides it every morning in the desert for the next forty years. So the people never go hungry again.
Then comes this morning’s story, and we know what is going to happen. The Israelites move to a new camp, there is no water, and the people complain: “Did you bring us here so that we and our children and our cattle could die of thirst?” Moses prays to the LORD, Moses strikes a rock with his rod, and God gives the people water. It is not too difficult too appreciate the perspective that the Psalmist provides in those last few verses from the Venite that we do not usually read: “Harden not your hearts, as your ancestors did in the wilderness. . . forty years long I detested that generation . . .” I do not have God’s patience, but before I came to teach at Trinity, one of the many jobs I worked at was IT support. The first question I always asked was “Did you check to make sure it’s plugged in?” We had a special term for a certain kind of problem – a PEBKAC. PEBKAC stood for: Problem Exists Between Keyboard and Chair. I can appreciate a perspective that asks: “When will these people ever learn?”
On the other hand, the concerns of the people of Israel are not unlike our own, and one can appreciate their dilemma. After all, if a God can not at least provide the basic necessities of life for one’s children and one’s cattle, then what good is he? Where is he? (more…)
In the Church Calendar that you can find at the beginning of your copy of the Book of Common Prayer, you will note that today is the feast day of Augustine of Hippo. I believe strongly in expository preaching, and it is my usual practice to preach on the lectionary readings for the day. However, I am now officially a member of the faculty here at Trinity, and, as one of the first exercises of the freedom and authority granted me by my new position, I am going to depart from the liturgically correct position, and preach a topical sermon. I have decided to disregard the lectionary readings entirely and preach on St. Augustine instead. Please do not try this in your homiletics class.
Augustine, as I’m sure you all know, is perhaps the most important theologian in the Western Church. He is claimed as an authority by both Catholics and Protestants – although both sides would claim that the other side had misunderstood him. Augustine has certainly been important for Anglicans. You may have noticed that his portrait is on the Trinity iconostasis on the wall outside the library. There’s a gap of about a thousand years between Augustine’s picture and Wycliffe’s, but I have always assumed that was because Trinity ran out of money or space before they could finish adding the portraits on the left side of the wall.
Augustine was very important in my own theological development. I grew up in a free church Evangelical denomination, where it was more or less assumed that the Holy Spirit disappeared between the death of the apostle John (who died shortly after writing the book of Revelation) and the Reformation. If you look at the Trinity wall, you know better. The Spirit came back for Augustine. I read Augustine’s Confessions as an undergraduate, and my eyes were opened. He led me into the world of theology and church history. I can safely say that I am standing here now because I read Augustine as an undergraduate.
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Gen. 21:8-21
Rom. 6:1b-11
Matt. 10:24-39
What does it mean when a preacher finds himself facing the same kinds of lectionary readings over and over again? I am one of the three new faculty at Trinity this year, and I have now preached a number of times. In the last two sermons I preached, the issue of moral transformation and Christian discipleship was a key theme in the lectionary readings. In terms of Reformation theology, this is a topic that sometimes falls under a category called the “third use of the law.” This is an area that was somewhat controversial on this campus last year – the year before I arrived. So, as a new faculty member, I was understandably reluctant to preach on the topic. But there it was in the readings. So I preached on the readings.
I turn to the readings for this morning, and what do I find? In the gospel reading for this morning, we hear: “Whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matt. 10: 38-39) Turning to the epistle, we find the central discussion of baptism in Paul’s letters. The reading begins with the question: “Are we to continue to sin that grace may abound?” (Rom. 6: 1) So there it is again. Moral imperatives! The third use of the law! I am quite tempted to preach on the OT lesson about Hagar and Ishmael. But perhaps, in God’s providence, the readings are there for a reason. Perhaps we at Trinity need to hear this message again. It is just as likely I think that I need to hear it, for I can hardly claim that I’m even close to getting a handle on this Christian discipleship thing.
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John 15:1-8
The great Anglican biblical scholar Sir Edwin Hoskyns wrote of Jesus’ Last Supper Discourse in his Commentary on John’s gospel: “The whole scene is an epitome of the Christian religion.”(1) If that is true of chapters 14-17 as a whole, then I think it could also be argued that the eight verses at the beginning of John chapter 15 are such an epitome in miniature, for in just these few short verses, John includes all of the major themes of his version of the Christian gospel, all tightly woven together.
What are those themes? What is the passage about?
The first theme has to do with the John’s understanding of the church. The passage is about ecclesiology. Jesus’ statement “I am the true vine and my Father is the vinedresser” echoes numerous Old Testament passages. These passages all contain a message of judgment. In each of these passages, Israel is the vine, and God is the vineyard owner or planter. So in Isaiah 5, the prophet speaks of a vineyard owner who plants a vineyard that yields wild grapes – a vineyard that will be trampled down and made a waste. “For,” says Isaiah, “the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel.”
John echoes these passages, but with a Christological twist. For John, Jesus is now the true Israel. He is the true vine, and his Father is the vineyard dresser. Where the previous vineyard had been declared a waste, Jesus – the True Vine – produces fruit. There is still a message of judgment, however. The church is not the vine, but the branches that dwell in the vine. The vineyard dresser prune the vine, and the branches that do not yield fruit are cast into the fire. If the church, or at least members of the church, fail in their mission to dwell in the vine, they will suffer the same judgment as Israel. So the passage is about John’s understanding of church – and we’ll get back to that in a few minutes. (more…)
2 Corinthians 3: 7-18
The chapters in 2 Corinthians that begin with this evening’s lectionary reading have always been one of my favorite selections from Scripture. 2 Corinthians 3-6 contain some of the most beautiful writing in all the Bible. You are no doubt familiar with some of the verses: "The God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." Or, "For this momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen." Or again, "For we walk by faith, not by sight." There is also"If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."
This selection of Scripture is also particularly relevant this evening as I address a chapel full of seminarians and potential seminarians. Why? The context of the entire letter of 2 Corinthians is one long sustained argument that Paul is having with the Corinthians in which he defends his ministry. We know from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians that Paul did not get along well with this church, and that there were those who challenged his ministerial credentials. Under similar circumstances, we ourselves might well be tempted to respond with an outburst of temper: "Because I’m the apostle, and you’re not! That’s why!" There is a little of that toward the end of the letter when Paul warns them: "What we say by letter when absent, we do when present." (2 Cor. 10:11) So, the Daddy apostle is coming home, and boy are you going to get it!<more/>But, Paul is, after all, Paul. And Paul is nothing if not a theologian. So before Paul warns them at the end of the letter that if they don’t straighten up, they will be sorry, Paul does what Paul does. He theologizes. And for this we can be grateful, because Paul defends his ministry by a theological reflection on ministry that contains these wonderful three chapters from chapter three though chapter six. In this selection, Paul provides some of his most profound insights on the meaning of redemption and Christian life. The heart of Paul’s defense of his ministry is that as an apostle, he is a minister of God’s new covenant in Christ Jesus, a covenant written not in the stone letters of the ten commandments, but in letters of love written by the Holy Spirit on human hearts.
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