“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…)

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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Feast Day of the Confession of St. Peter
1 Peter 5: 1-4
Matthew 16: 13-20

Today is the feast day of the Confession of St. Peter. What could I say to you about Peter that you yourselves have not heard a hundred times before? As I’m sure you know, the passage from the gospel this morning has been controversial in the history of the church, with Roman Catholics interpreting the passage to mean that not only is Peter the rock on whom the church is founded, but that the bishop of Rome—the pope—is the successor of Peter. Western Reformation Christians and Orthodox Christians have interpreted the passage otherwise.

However, I am not sure how edifying a sermon on the various ways in which Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox and Reformation Christians have interpreted Matt.16 would be. Given the likely audience at a Jan Term chapel, I would doubt whether many of you are staying awake at night worrying about whether the pope is the rightful successor to Peter. However, as I looked at this passage and especially at the epistle reading from 1 Peter this morning, I realized that you were the proper audience for a different kind of sermon.Let me re-read part of the epistle reading:

So I exhort the elders among you, as a fellow elder and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as a partaker in the glory that is going to be revealed, shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight, not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you, not for shameful gain, but eagerly, not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to your flock.” (1 Peter. 5:1-3)

I find myself in an unusual situation this morning. I am a lay person, and I find myself speaking to a chapel full of people who are either mostly clergy, or who are studying to some day be clergy. On most Sundays I find the situation reversed. You are the ones that Peter addresses in his epistle as “elders.” The Greek here is presbyteros, sometime translated as pastor or priest. And the English word pastor comes from the Latin word pastor which means “Shepherd.” You are or will be the shepherds, the ones whom Peter exhorts to “shepherd the flock of God.” And, apart from Christ, Peter is the New Testament’s prime example of a Christian Shepherd. In John’s gospel, the risen Christ commands Peter, “Feed my sheep.” Regardless of our theology of the episcopate or the primacy of the pope, we know who Peter’s successors are. You are, or you will be. You are the shepherds, and your job is, as Peter says, “to shepherd the flock of God,” and “to be examples to your flock.” (more…)

Third Advent 2007
Isaiah 35: 1-10
Psalm 146
Matthew 11: 2-11

The gospel passage that we read this morning has caused a greatdeal of trouble in the history of interpretation. Biblical interpreters from the earliest times to the present have not known quite how to deal with it. It is not that what the text says is hard to understand. That is fairly straightforward. John the Baptist is in prison and he sends some of his disciples to ask Jesus a question: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” The problem is that we already know who John the Baptist is. Phil Harrold did a great job last week of laying out the territory. John has one job. John is the one wearing the camel’s hair bathrobe in all those great Medieval paintings who is pointing to Jesus. That is what John does. He points to Jesus. Now it seems John has forgotten his job description.

The Church Fathers did not know quite what to do with this. John Chrysostom raises all the obvious questions: “He that knew Jesus before His miracles, he that had learned it of the Spirit, he that heard it of the Father, he who had proclaimed him before all; does he now send to learn of him, whether he is himself or not?” Chrysostom points out to John that his reputation is at stake: “If you did not know that Jesus was surely the one,” he asks rhetorically, “how could your have any credibility? If you are going to bear witness to others, you first need to have some credit yourself.” Chrysostom imaginatively grills John: “Didn’t you say that you were not worthy to untie his shoes? Didn’t you say that he sent you to baptize? Didn’t you see the Spirit descend, and hear the voice that said ‘This is my beloved Son?’ Didn’t you leap in the womb when you were a baby?” Chrysostom is having none of this “Are you the one who is to come or should we expect another?” business. (more…)

7th Sunday of Easter, 2007
Ps. 68
Acts 16: 16-34
Rev. 22:12-14,16-17,20
John 17:20-26

This morning’s gospel reading is one of a series of readings from Jesus’ farewell discourse in John’s gospel we have had the last few Sundays that will conclude with the reading for Trinity Sunday. This morning’s reading is actually the conclusion of the discourse in John’s gospel, and has been referred to since the sixteenth century as Christ’s “High Priestly Prayer.” Unfortunately, as the lectionary editors sometimes do, they have rather arbitrarily cut the reading in a way that misses the main point of the chapter, so I’m going to preach as if the reading included the entire chapter. So much the worse for the lectionary editors.

In this chapter, John summarizes three central themes in his gospel, themes that run like a red thread from beginning to end. At the same time, John introduces an interpretive principle when he expounds these themes that I call Christological subversion. This interpretive principle is not unique to John. It appears in numerous places in the New Testament, but John uses it throughout his gospel, and we will largely misunderstand the New Testament if we don’t understand the principle.

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Of the three theological virtues—faith, hope and charity—hope is the virtue that most characterizes Advent. Faith is the virtue we might associate in particular with Easter. Faith believes that victory is hidden in the cross that awaits the end of the path of Holy Week; faith believes that God has triumphed over death by bringing the crucified Christ to new life, the resurrection life of Jesus we share in through faith; Charity, or love, we associate easily with Christmas; Christmas is the time when we give gifts to others in honor of the Great Gift God has given to us by sending his Son as a child in a manger; Christmas is the feast of the incarnation, the time when God is literally most human.

Hope, on the other hand, is the neglected middle child of the virtues, neither the heroic virtue of faith that overcomes all doubts, nor the easily sentimentalized virtue of love about which songs are sung that make us feel all warm inside. In the words of John Lennon’s Beatles tune: “All you need is love. Love is all you really need.” So also, Advent is that season with which we often don’t quite know what to do. Advent is sort of latched onto Christmas by default. Advent is the season of Hope because it is the season of anticipation. During Advent, we anticipate the season of Christmas in which God comes among us as the infant in Mary’s arms. But let’s face it. Advent wreaths are nice; they can’t compare to Christmas trees. (more…)