Uncommon Christian Community -- FPC sermon excerpt

Americans like to live in diverse communities. At least, that’s what they say.

But the truth is very different. In fact, it is much more common for people to cluster together among those who are just like themselves. Especially those who share their political affiliation.

According to The Washington Post (January 19, 2009), the clustering of Democrats in Democratic areas and Republicans in Republican areas has been a growing trend for at least 30 years. And one consequence of this polarization is that large numbers of Americans no longer have much contact with people belonging to the other party. Many feel the views of their political opponents are not just wrong … they are incomprehensible.

This trend toward a fractured and polarized community is the exact opposite of the vision that the prophet Isaiah has in chapter 56. God challenges us through Isaiah to be an Uncommon Community — “a house of prayer for all peoples.” God does not want us to be a Common Community, one in which Republicans worship with Republicans, Democrats pray with Democrats, liberals go to Bible study with liberals, and conservatives go on mission trips with other conservatives.

We are not supposed to be a Common Community, a house of prayer for people just like us. There are plenty of comfortable congregations like that, all around us. Instead, God challenges us to be Uncommon.

Even though it might make us uncomfortable.

So where does this unusual vision come from? In the time of Isaiah, the people of Israel were considered to be God’s chosen people, and the purity code of Deuteronomy excluded two particular categories of people: eunuchs and foreigners. Deuteronomy says that “no one whose testicles are crushed or whose penis is cut off shall be admitted to the assembly of the LORD.” And “no Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted to the assembly of the LORD” (23:1, 3). Only certain foreigners, such as the Edomites, would be admitted, because they were considered to be relatives of the Israelites.

So the Common Community that existed in Israel was made up of like-minded Israelites. It was a comfortable congregation of people who shared the same idea of what was pure and what was not.

But then God comes along with a new vision of community, one in which everyone who honors God in their actions is to be included. Speaking through Isaiah, God says, “To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant … I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off” (56:5).

The tragedy of the eunuch was that he was cut off, literally. No chance of having children to carry on his name. But God says that if you are faithful, eunuch, I will give you an everlasting name … that shall not be cut off.

“And the foreigners who join themselves to the LORD,” says Isaiah, “to minister to him, to love the name of the LORD, and to be his servants, all who keep the Sabbath, and do not profane it, and hold fast my covenant — these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer” (vv. 6-7).

What a radical shift this is. Suddenly, the community of faith is not limited to people of the same nationality or political party. Being admitted to the assembly of the LORD does not require being a man or woman in a traditional family, with 2.5 Israelite children.

God says, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (v. 7). We are called not to be a Common Christian Community, one that is made up of like-minded people. But a truly Uncommon Christian Community, a house of prayer for all peoples.

Still We Rise -- FPC sermon excerpt

The old ones remind us that slavery’s chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.

These are the words of the African American poet Maya Angelou, offered at the Million Man March in 1995. Speaking to a huge crowd of black men on the Mall in Washington, DC, she reminded them of their difficult and painful history, and then invited them to focus their lives on joy, courtesy, gentleness, and care.

She said,

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain,
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

Powerful words. Hopeful words. Inspiring words. Words which culminate in Angelou’s closing line, “And still we rise.”

And still we rise.

This soaring sentiment could be a summary of the struggle for racial justice and civil rights over the past hundred years. This movement is always worthy of remembrance during the Martin Luther King birthday weekend, but 2009 contains an especially important anniversary: February 12th is the 100th anniversary of the founding of the NAACP — the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.

Born in a time of segregated hotels and widespread discrimination in voting booths, the NAACP was designed to “promote equality of rights” and to eradicate “race prejudice among the citizens of the United States.” It was founded by people of vision and deep conviction who were, surprisingly, a rather diverse group — in addition to several prominent African Americans, the founders included a Jewish man, a white woman, a German-born white, and a white man who was the son of a former slave-holding family.

February 12, 1909 was not an accidental birthday for this organization. The date was picked because it was a centennial of its own — the 100th birthday of President Abraham Lincoln, who emancipated the slaves during the Civil War. Just think about the progress made from 1809, when slavery was legal … to 1909, when the NAACP was founded … to 2009, when we are witnessing the inauguration of our first African-American President, Barack Obama.

And still we rise.

One of the great strengths of the civil rights movement was its unbreakable link with the faith of the black church. The diplomat and author James Weldon Johnson became field secretary of the NAACP in 1916, and in 1921 he wrote the text to today’s opening hymn “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” which became an anthem of the struggle for racial justice.

Lift every voice and sing till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty.
Let our rejoicing rise high as the listening skies;
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Once called “The Black National Anthem,” this song now appears in hymnals throughout the Christian church. It goes on to say,

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by Thy might led us into the light;
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

These are not black words, nor are they white words. They are Christian words — words of faith in a God who can guide us, protect us, and lead us into the bright light of freedom, equality, and justice.

With the help of the Lord, still we rise.

The Memory of Baptism -- FPC sermon excerpt

Do you remember your baptism?

I sure don’t remember mine. I was three months old. But my mother tells me that I screamed as I was carried to the front of the church. I screamed throughout the baptism. And I screamed all the way back to the seats.

I didn’t seem very pleased about becoming a Christian.

But in spite of this rocky start, I am always happy to remember my baptism. And the reason for this is that facts do not create memories. Instead, meaning shapes memories. Because the meaning of baptism is that God accepts me and welcomes me into the Christian family, I have a happy memory every time I think about my baptism.

Now some of you might be thinking: That’s crazy talk. A fact is a fact. Meanings cannot shape memories.

But consider this: Recent research, reported in The Washington Post (May 26, 2008), has uncovered that we are not much happier on Fridays than we are on Mondays. We really aren’t — our moods do not change very much over the course of the week. But we remember Fridays as happy days because of the meaning we attach to Fridays.

Friday is when we are liberated from the chores of the workweek. It’s when we say “T.G.I.F.” and turn from business to pleasure. It’s when the door to the weekend is thrown wide open.

These are the meanings we attach to Friday. And these meanings shape our memory of how we actually felt on a particular Friday. Because we believe that Fridays are happy days, we remember them as happy days.

Think about this. Meaning shapes memory, in a variety of ways. A bride says that her wedding day was the happiest day of her life. In fact, it was incredibly stressful, but the meaning of marriage turns it into a happy memory.
- A man says that the birth of his first child was a joy. Truth is, it was absolute misery to watch his wife suffer through labor, but the meaning of childbirth makes the memory a positive one.
- A teenager says that her rejection by a boyfriend was the most crushing blow of her life. In fact, she felt a bit relieved, and she bounced back quickly. But the meaning of romance makes the breakup a very painful memory.
- An adult convert to Christianity says that his baptism was wonderful. The reality is that it was wet, cold, and uncomfortable, but the meaning of the sacrament makes it deeply moving to him.

Meaning shapes memory.

This insight can help us to better understand the significance of what happened to Jesus in the Jordan River. The Sunday after Epiphany every year is called “Baptism of the Lord,” and it gives us an opportunity to remember this event and reflect on its impact. It is a perfect example of how meaning shapes memory.