January 29, 2012                                                    Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“As One With Authority”

Mark 1:21-28, Howard Thurman, “I Seek Truth and Light” (Meditations of the Heart)

The scene in Mark today is in Capernaum, a small city on the coast of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus has just begun his ministry of sharing the good news of God and gathered a few disciples. He arrives to teach in a synagogue. We don’t know what he talked about, but the people were amazed that he taught as one with authority, not like one of the Scribes. Scribes were teachers of the law. They weren’t paid clergy, but were students of the Law of Moses as contained in the written scrolls of the Torah. Their vocation was to teach and interpret this law to the Hebrew people. They were a bit like what we might call fundamentalists, focusing on the authority of the written word and trying to follow it exactly. They believed that God’s authority was best found in scripture. Jesus had another kind of authority – and I wonder what that was.

The story goes on and a man, it doesn’t say who exactly, who was possessed by an evil spirit cries out to Jesus and names him. Perhaps this was we would call a mentally deranged person, or perhaps not, perhaps one of the supposedly sane people of the synagogue who was listening and saddening cries out. In any case, Jesus speaks to the spirit and it comes out of the man. Jesus seems to have authority over even the parts of people that are possessed or evil. The people of the synagogue recognize Jesus’ authority as coming from God, that he speaks the truth and has the truth within him.

I am wondering about this idea of authority. I have been starting a new class of Confirmation this winter, with 8^th and 9^th graders. One of the first things I talk to them about is the non-doctrinal nature of the congregational tradition, and how we believe each person has the authority of God within them. Non-doctrinal or non-creedal communities such as ours or the Quakers believe that each person can interpret theology and God’s presence on their own and do not need clergy, bishops or popes to tell us what to believe. Even the scripture is open to interpretation. This is crucial for the confirmands to understand so they will start trying to figure out what their personal theology is. What is this authority that Jesus had, and that we believe each person to have within them. The simple answer is that authority is God’s truth. It is that within us, and the people of Capernaum, that recognizes truth when we hear it or see it. Jesus, by all accounts, had it.

Jeremiah 31 reads: “I have put my truth in your innermost mind, and I have written it on your heart. No longer does a man need to teach his brothers and sisters about God. For you all know me, from the most ignorant to the most learned, from the poorest to the most powerful”. I believe this to be true, that we all have it within us to recognize the truth when we see it. This is because we are all part of God, God is within us. In a sense, we recognize God when we see God – in truth expressed, or compassionate action, love or friendship.

Howard Thurman, who we have been hearing from this morning, tells the story of being at a Quaker meeting. He sat in the quiet meeting and found it very appealing to him, for he was a person who meditated and sought a mystical relationship with God in the quiet of his heart. He decided he would seek what God wanted him to say that day, if anything, through meditation and sat quietly, seeking to go inward to his quiet center and listen. He shared my belief that such truth is available within each of us. It caught him off guard as he started to see words written in his conscious mind, almost like he could read them. They were words from the Sermon on the Mount. It began to gather these words to speak them to the meeting. He opened his eyes and began to stand when a woman’s voice behind him began to speak the very words he was thinking of, from the same verses of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. Amazed, he sat down and listened as one person after another rose to comment on these words. Finally, he rose and shared that he had had the same words given to him.

Have you ever had the experience of being in a meeting or gathering and had something to add, but resolve to keep you mouth shut to see what others have on their minds. Then to you surprise someone says exactly what you were thinking. I suppose this is not necessarily remarkable if one is in a group of people with similar background and education, that the same ideas might pop up, but I still find it remarkable and wonder if we are tapping into some kind of truth that speaks in us and through us.

I remember attending a forum on peace with the Interfaith Leaders for Non-Violence that used to meet during the Iraq war in Boulder. Seven different clergy rose to speak from Mennonite, Quaker, Hindu, Presbyterian, Sufi, Unitarian and Muslim traditions. A Hindu woman, Alananda, rose to speak and said that it was a fundamental mistake not to think of Iraqi children as our children. We think of our children in our families and our communities as our children and seek to protect them. But the fact is that Iraqi children affected by the war are our children as well and need our protection. Her words touched me deeply and the truth of them seemed to reverberate in the people of the room. She spoke a truth and we all recognized it – and I still remember it. Howard Thurman said it well: “Human life is one and all men members one of another, this is the hard core of religious experience” We all share truth and recognize it when we hear it. This is to speak with authority, the authority of truth with a capital T, which I consider to be the authority of God.

This is basically mysticism. The definition of mysticism is the belief that people can encounter God. To encounter God is to believe that God is present in creation and within us, and we can encounter God. We can seek this presence is meditation and prayer, in scripture, in worship, in communicating with others. Not all of communication is truth, but we know it when we hear it. Truth has authority, this is what Jesus had.

But what about Jesus’ authority over the unclean spirit? Is this relevant to us or is it nonsense of a non-scientific age. Certainly, we understand physical and mental disease differently now, and don’t think of healing as the casting out of spirits. However, it is true that people can be possessed by spirits of addiction, alcoholism, pornography, gambling and drug addiction. People can be possessed also by fear, anxiety, anger, busy-ness, affluenza or being workaholics. Turning these kinds of possessions over to God – letting go and letting God help us manage them can feel like healing. It does seem that God has the authority to step in a remove these burdens from our minds and spirits. I would be remise if I did not witness that prayer and faith can at times relieve us from the suffering and burdens we bear in our spirits. In naming the authority of Jesus I have personally experienced the peace of God when suffering with fear and anxiety.

My point today is that a basic part of faith in God for me, is the belief that there is truth with a capital T that is God. Jesus expressed it, and he is a source of Truth for humanity – though not the exclusive source. It is within us, and we can recognize it when we see it. Many spiritual leaders and other people have expressed this Truth. It is like the wild grass that cannot be prevented from growing through cement. It is everywhere and it keeps popping up. God is part of us and we are part of God. We can trust in God.

January 22, 2012                                                    Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“Evangelism in a Progressive Context”

Mark 1:14-20, Jonah

As I read the lectionary from Mark about Jesus coming to share the good news and calling the Disciples, I realized I have seldom, if ever, addressed the subject of evangelism in a sermon. What is Christian evangelism and is it a good idea? Spreading the good news of Jesus has been an important part of Christianity for much of Christian history, yet I feel very ambivalent about it. We heard from Marcus Borg in his book, The Heart of Christianity, that his reasons for being Christian do not include seeing Christianity as the “one true religion”. In his book he makes a strong case that the reality of religious pluralism in the world negates the idea of Christian exclusivism. If we accept the idea that different religions are different paths to the same place, as I do, then it is not acceptable, and not very Christian, to seek to convert people to Christianity as a way to ensure their salvation. One survey on line asked Americans about evangelism and came to the conclusion that for most people today, evangelism is seen as negative. When the people doing the survey said Kleenex, most people thought of tissue. They said Hoover and most thought of vacuum cleaners. They evangelism or evangelical and most people thought of “judgmental, control and hatred”.  When surveyed whether Christianity is the only true religion, only 17% agreed. Asking whether Christians should seek to convert people of other faiths, 71% said no. Clearly, our ideas about proselytizing is changing.

So what do I think about evangelism? The gospel of Mark is pretty clear on this point, that Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God. I think it’s important as a starting point to note that Jesus proclaimed the good news of God. He didn’t proclaim the good news of Christianity, or even of Christ, or of salvation, or eternal life. Just the good news of God. That is not an exclusive statement. To return to Marcus Borg, he is very clear in his book that the good news has nothing to do with life after death, but the good news of Jesus was for now, this life. What Jesus offered was wholeness, healing, enlightenment, unitive thinking, liberation for captives, sight for the blind, peace, fearless; now, in this life!

The story of Jonah, the lectionary reading we did not hear read this morning, offers one of the best examples for me of the good news of God. Jonah, you may remember, hated the Ninevites because they had fought a brutal war with Israel, and when God wanted Jonah to go to the Ninevites and offer forgiveness and tell them of God’s love for them, he refused. He did not want to see the Ninevites forgiven, so he ran away. God pursued him, even into the belly of the great fish, and Jonah eventually agrees to go to Ninevah. He preaches there and the Ninevites do repent. Then Jonah is really mad and he says, “You see, God, that is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning, I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love”. Jonah means it as an accusation, but I use it now as a statement of the good news of God that Jesus offered. God is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love”. Wherever this message is proclaimed, in Christian communities or Hinduism or Islam, that is an evangelical message I can get behind.

My other thought I had on evangelism this week I learned from Tim Tebow. Though I probably don’t see eye to eye with him theologically, I learned something from him last week. I have been pretty critical of Tim Tebow and amused by the idea that God could care about the outcome of football games or touchdowns, but Mark Lewis sent an article to the men’s group by Rick Reilly, a cynical sports writer that cast Tebow in a new light for me:  Reilly wrote: “Every week, Tebow picks out someone who is suffering, or who is dying, or who is injured. He flies these people and their families to the Broncos game, rents them a car, puts them up in a nice hotel, buys them dinner (usually at a Dave & Buster’s), gets them and their families pregame passes, visits with them just before kickoff (!), gets them 30-yard-line tickets down low, visits with them after the game (sometimes for an hour), has them walk him to his car, and sends them off with a basket of gifts. Home or road, win or lose, hero or goat.” I learned from Rick Reilly that I have been unfair to Tebow. Whatever his theology, he is clearly a person of compassion. Good for him. He is proclaiming the good news of God. That makes want to listen to him.

So I started thinking of who in my life has made a difference and proclaimed the good news of God to me. Who, by their actions or way of living have inspired me to pay attention to them and to what they say? I think of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist teacher from who I first learned to meditate, whose engaged Buddhism is based in compassion for all people. The Dalai Lama, another Buddhist comes to mind. As does one of my personal heroes, Mohandas Gandhi. These three have all evangelized me with the good news of God and they aren’t even Christian. But there are Christians too. St. Francis of Assisi and his radical poverty and compassion stands out. A minister named Al Pitcher who started an intentional community in Chicago that Laura and I joined in the 80’s was an important influence on my life. He preached at my ordination. Another preacher, Ralph Surratt, a lay Methodist preacher I worked for in the mountains of North Carolina in seminary renewed my faith in Christianity and showed me that perhaps I could enter the ministry. My grandmother, whose name Evangeline, now gives me pause. My mother and father. Nelson Mandela. Martin Luther King, Jr. Thomas Merton. Henri Nouwen. Rumi. Teresa of Avila. Jesus. So many people of all faiths have been people who embodied the good news of God. I realized that when someone lives out this good news or God’s love and compassion, then I want to pay attention to what they say. They become Evangelists. I think of St. Francis’ words on evangelism: “Preach the gospel at all times and, when necessary, use words.”

I think we are called to be evangelists, sharing the good news of God. There are lots of ways to do this, but the best is by living lives of compassion and mercy. One thing it doesn’t involve is telling people they will go to hell if they don’t believe in Jesus. Nor does it involve any kind of exclusive message about how to be saved, or judgment or hate.

Evangelism – sharing the good news of God, is, (to quote Jonah again): God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. When we offer mercy, good news is spread. When we show compassion, good news is spread. When we love our neighbor, or even better, when we love our enemy, good news is spread. When we offer a cup of water, or food to the hungry. When we offer kindness – when we love. Preach the gospel at all time, and when necessary, use words.

January 15, 2012                                                    Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“Vocations – The Word of the Lord is Rare”

I Samuel 3:1-20

Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book, An Altar in the World, tells of a time she was asked to speak at a church and asked the wise old Priest what he wanted he to talk about. All he said was, “Come tell us what is saving your life now”. I think that’s a pretty good place to start with every sermon. In fact, I’d like to ask every one of you that question. “What’s saving your life right now?” Dramatic perhaps, but I think most of us are just getting by somehow, and struggling, listening, hoping to hear something that will make it a little easier to face the responsibilities and suffering of this life.

When the story we heard from Samuel was taking place, Israel was in a bad way. The old priest Eli, was just hanging on, and his sons had control of most of the rituals of the Temple, but they were corrupt and were milking the priesthood for all the money and power they could grab. Our passage says that, “The word of the Lord was rare in those days”. That could apply to almost any days, any time in history. Certainly, we could say today that the word of the Lord is rare. It’s comforting somehow, since misery loves company, to think that Eli’s time was not so different than our own. Few people were having visions, few were feeling that God was communicating with them, and probably the few who did were a little suspect. If someone tells me the word of the Lord has come to them, I would be immediately suspicious and skeptical. But the word of the Lord has always been rare, if we are talking about revelations and words we can hear.

Samuel was a little boy. His mother Hannah had been barren, and had a vision that she would have a son who would be a prophet. She became miraculously pregnant, and thanked God with Hannah’s song, a poem much like Mary’s song that she says when she finds she is miraculously pregnant with Jesus. Hannah sees Samuel as a gift from God and takes him to the Temple and asks Eli to accept him as a student –dedicates his life to serving God. Samuel sleeps in the Temple and Eli sleeps outside the door, and the word of the Lord comes to Samuel. But he doesn’t have much experience with such things (who does?) and thinks it’s Eli calling him. He runs out to answer and Eli, probably grumpily for being woken, sends him back to lay down. He hears the word again and runs out to Eli, who sends him back. After the third time it dawns on Eli that perhaps Samuel is being called by God. We aren’t told if Eli was ever called by God, but he has faith enough to think that Samuel might be, so he tells him to go back in if he hears the word again to answer: “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening”.  It’s interesting that Eli didn’t try to horn in on the vision, or run in there to see if he can hear anything. Perhaps he knew that if the call wasn’t for him, he would hear nothing, just the wind in the tower, or the mouse rustling around behind the altar.

The word “to call” in Latin is Vocare. From this word we get our word, vocation. Vocation is to be called to some career, or action. Ministers and teachers, doctors and others are sometimes said to have a vocation – work that they are called to do. When I got to seminary, for the first time, people began to ask me what my “call” was. How had I been called to ministry. This was a tough question for me, because I didn’t feel called. I was, as I am now, skeptical of someone who said they felt called by God. And yet, I have to admit that I did have an experience when I was very lost and alone and prayed for help and had what John Wesley would call, “a warming of the heart”, or a sense of God’s peace passing all understanding. It was that experience that I’ve never been able to explain that has stayed with me over the years. Was it a call? I have no idea. But I don’t think most people have a sense that God is calling them to a particular work or action. Yet something in us hungers for this assurance, and listens carefully when the Bible describes Samuel’s call and the reaction of old Eli. Is God calling us? Does the word of the Lord come to some people?

What I want to say to you today is that one of the things that saves my life today is that I believe that God is present with us, and in us, and does call each of us to action to ways of living. It is possible to listen for the “still, small voice” of God amidst this noisy, busy world. There are many voices calling to us that are much louder than God: voices of our culture that tell us we need to make money, and seek success and power. Voices that tell us what kind of car, clothing, houses, hairstyles, romances and jobs we ought to have. Voices that tell we are not good enough, not successful enough, not thin enough. The voice of God is usually just that opposite of these voices. It comes to us through Jesus, and other wisdom teachers, through nature, through other people, music and art and love from others. There is that within us that recognizes the voice when we hear it. We know the truth when we encounter it. When someone loves someone else, or makes a sacrifice for the good of others. When a flock of geese flies overhead and calls to us that the world is beautiful and life is worth living. When another person shares their heart and their secret pain with us and it gives us the strength and courage to share our pain.

Henry Nouwen says: “God calls everyone who is listening; there is no individual or group for whom God’s call is reserved”. In one sense the word of the Lord is rare, but in another sense God’s call is all around us, all the time, calling out to us from life. For some reason, when we start listening, it gets louder. When we pay attention, it seems to become easier to hear it and see it. When we trust that God is with us, then, for some reason, it becomes stronger.

Thomas Merton heard the word of God, in a sense, in Louisville on a shopping trip. In “Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander”, he writes: “In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness…This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud. And I suppose my happiness could have taken form in the words: “Thank God, thank God that I am like other men, that I am only a man among others.” To think that for sixteen or seventeen years I have been taking seriously this pure illusion that is implicit in so much of our monastic thinking…I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun. Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed…I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other. But this cannot be seen, only believed and “understood” by a peculiar gift.

God’s voice is all around us, calling us all the time. We need to open our ears to listen. We have to trust that God is present and be awake to the sacredness of life.

December 18, 2011                                                         Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“Life is a Gift, Receive It”

John 1:1-9, Henri Nouwen, “Waiting for God” (in Watch for the Light, Orbis Books)

Martin Buber, the Jewish theologian and philosopher once told a story from the Hebrew Cabbala, a collection of mystical teachings: “When the world began the light of God came down to earth in a clay vessel. But the light was too strong and the vessel burst. The sparks of light became embedded in everything. This is in a measure how I often experience the world,” Buber wrote, “I find the light of God in everything and know it is the same light in me, that I am part of the light present in all creation. In moment of illumination there is no separation.” In John’s gospel today we heard, “The true light that enlivens every person was coming into the world.” “In this One was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”. I find this a helpful image of God’s presence. The light of God present in each one of us and all around us. This light embedded in creation and in me, present in the life of Jesus of Nazareth: Emmanuel, God with us.

Christmas is well upon us, whether we are ready or not. I am not ready, by the way. A friend of mine remarked: “Why does Christmas have to come as such a busy time of year?” A clerk in a hardware store asked he was, said: “I’ll be alright once I get this Santa thing over with.” It’s easy to get caught up in the busy-ness and tension of this time of year. It seems everyone trying so hard to make it nice, get things done and enjoy the holidays. I want to propose that this is exactly the wrong attitude to take. Christmas is not something that has to get done, or be organized, but something we receive. It is represents something God did, or is doing. My mistake is acting like it’s up to me to get there, to make it happen. Like the presence of God, Christmas just is and I can receive it.

Henri Nouwen wrote a wonderful essay found in a book that Kari Silva found in my bookshelf and handed to me, called “Waiting for God”. Part of his essay was read earlier. His idea is that we have a hard time waiting. This is because we are trying to control what we are waiting for. We have specific ideas of what we are wishing for, what we are waiting for. We hope that the bus will come, that the baby will be born healthy, that the test results will be good, that our child will arrive safely, that our spouse will get home in time for the party, that the plane will be on time, that the storm will hold off until we get home. We like to be in control. Our waiting is hard and fearful because we really want to control the outcome. We are wishing for a specific outcome, and because of this our waiting basically fearful. We are afraid of what will happen.

Nouwen notes that Mary, Elizabeth, Zechariah, the shepherds and all were not afraid because they were waiting in an open-ended way. They had received promises from God and trusted God, and instead of being filled with wishes, they were filled with hope. Hope is trusting that something good will come, that the future is in God’s hands. Mary says, “I am the handmaid of the Lord, let what you have said be done to me”. She is trusting, hoping, not trying to control the future. Part of Advent is waiting, waiting to receive renewed hope and confidence in God’s love. It’s not something we can make happen, but something that we can only receive. We are called to wait during Advent with trust that God was doing something new in Jesus, and still is present. We remember that the Christmas, and wait with hope and trust.

This is a good attitude to have at Christmas, and it’s also a good attitude to have toward life. To live, act, work, and wait with trust and open-endedness. We are not in control of the future, but that’s ok, because we trust that it is in God’s hands, that there is an order to the universe, and to paraphrase Martin Luther King, Jr., as I like to do, “the arc of the universe bends toward justice”. We can trust the universe. This is a radically different way to live than how I usually live, trusting myself, struggling to make things happen, to protect people I love: striving, controlling, wishing, working, seeking security, self-esteem and power over my life. Perhaps this Christmas I can begin to loosen my hands on the steering wheel and lighten up a bit.

This is illustrated for me in my practice of Centering Prayer. I was reading in Tricycle Magazine (Winter, 2011) an article by Rodney Smith about the difference between mindfulness and awareness. He was making the point that sometimes as we strive to be mindful of the present moment; we are working too hard to control our consciousness. Our ego is struggling to control our mind and force ourselves to be mindful. He says we can begin to let go of the striving, and just be aware of the moment. Get ourselves out of the way and just be aware of reality. As I sit in Centering Prayer I often find myself working really hard to let go of thoughts, to control what’s happening, when perhaps if I just let go, quit working so hard, I could just be aware of what thoughts and feelings are passing by, and come back again and again to God’s presence. To do this, I have to trust that presence and trust that this letting go will lead me to deeper peace and awareness of God’s presence.

This attitude of trust, or open-endedness applies to all of life. To live with confidence, which Nouwen notes comes from the Latin roots, con-fide, literally, with trust. To live with trust. Wait with trust. Prepare for Christmas with trust. Interact with my loved ones, with trust. Love with trust. It’s about receiving life, receiving God, receiving Christmas.

The choir director of University Church, Frank Blalock Brown in 1977, wrote a song I learned in Chicago. “Life is a gift, receive it. Like starlight at night, like the sun. Like light that is new every morning, that follows the darkness that comes. So stand in the light, and know it’s given everyone. O daughters and sons of God, delight in how you life’s true light has come.” Wonderful words for Christmas as we receive God’s light coming into the world. This light is a gift, receive it. Christmas is a gift, receive it. Life is a gift, receive it.

I end with a quote I love from Elizabeth Barrett Browning: “Earth is crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God and only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries.” Earth is crammed with heaven, let us receive this gift of life and live with confidence (with trust).

December 4, 2011                                                         Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“John, the Messenger of Hope”

Isaiah 40:1-11, Mark 1:1-9

John the Baptist doesn’t seem like a Christmas character. He ought to show up later, when Jesus is fully grown and starting his ministry. But every year, on the second Sunday of Advent, we hear his story. In the Gospel of Mark, this is the only Christmas story we get. Mark doesn’t mention the birth, and begins his Gospel with John coming out of the wilderness, preparing the way of the Lord. Mark begins: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, ‘See, I am sending a my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord’”. When I hear this I inevitably think of the beginning of the play, Godspell, when John the Baptist arrives singing, “Prepare, ye the way of the Lord”

Peter Woods, in a blog this week, pointed out that the Greek word in Isaiah for the one sent to prepare is Appostelo, from which we get our word Apostle. It means emissary or messenger, the one God is sending. The word in Mark for the messenger is Angelon, from which we get the word angel. So we have an angelic emissary, an apostle from God who begins Mark’s gospel, coming before Jesus. This prophet, this emissary, is John. He comes out of the desert, clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey, and all the people of the land come out to him. Scholars tell us that the people John came to from the whole Judean countryside and from Jerusalem were the poor. They were called, “the people of the land”, the peasants who made up the majority of the Palestinian population. Mark tells us that for these peasants John brought “good news”. Like Isaiah who brought comfort to the exiles in Babylon, promising them God would make a way for them in the wilderness, a road on which to return home. So John told the people of the land that they would have comfort, a message of hope that one was coming from God who would baptize them with the Holy Spirit. John was all about hope. Hope that God was still with the people, and a messenger was coming to show them the way to live –coming with compassion and comfort. John Dominic Crossan points out somewhere that there’s a political edge to people being called out across Jordan to JB. The people, after baptism, then re-enter the Promised Land to reconquer it for God. This time with changed hearts, rather than swords. Crossan notes that it is in some ways a political message; God is offering a new beginning for the poor people of the land.

I like this understanding of John; it makes sense to me that this is a justice message. That is consistent with what I find in the Gospels about Jesus, he a radical figure, a political figure in some ways, one who offers real compassion for real people, freedom from oppression, healing for sick, hope for the poor and year of God’s favor, the Jubilee – forgiveness of debts, return of land, justice and hope. Not just forgiveness of sins and life after death, but concrete hope and a new way to live. Like Isaiah with hope for the exiles, John and Jesus bring concrete hope: “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places, a plain, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together.”

I ran across an illustration of this concrete, real world hope in a story told by a parish priest in a black township in South Africa, Father Gerard. (Desert Sun, Winter, 2011) It might be called “The unwelcome visitors”. The weary priest forced himself to attend the last part of a school play during the final week of Advent. He told the story: After the wise men had come and gone I noticed the arrival of three more strange characters- one was dressed in rages, hobbling along with a stick. The second was naked except for a tattered pair of shorts and was bound in chains. The third was the most weird. He had a whitened face, wore an unkempt grey wig and an old shirt. As they approached a chorus of men and women cried out, “Close the door, Joseph, they are thieves and vagabonds coming to steal all we have.” But Joseph said, “Everyone has a right to this child, the poor, the rich the unhappy, the untrustworthy. We cannot keep this child for ourselves. Let them enter.” The men entered and stood staring at the child. Joseph picked up the present the magi had left. To the first man he said, “You are poor, take this gold and buy what you need. To the second he said, “You are I chains and I don’t know how to release you. Take this myrrh, it will heal the wounds of your wrists and ankles.” To the third he said, “You mind is in anguish. I cannot heal you. Maybe the aroma of this frankincense will soothe your troubled soul.” Then the first man spoke to Joseph, “Do not give me this gift. Anyone who finds me with this gold will think I have stolen it. And sadly, in a few years, this child will end up as a criminal too.” The second man said, “Do not give me this ointment. Keep it for the child. One day he will be wearing chains like these.” The third man said, “I am lost. I have no faith at all. In the country of my mind there is no God. Let the child keep the incense. He will lose his faith in his Father too.” While Mary and Joseph covered their faces the three men addressed the child. “Little one, you are not from the land of gold and frankincense. You belong to the country of want and disease. You belong to our world. Let us share our things with you.” The first man took off his ragged shirt. “Take these rags. One day you will need them when they rear the garments off your back and you will walk naked.” The second man said, “When I remove these chains I will put them at your side. One day you will wear them, and then you will really know the pain of humanity. The third man said, “I give you my depression, my loss of faith in God and in everything. I can carry it all no longer. Carry my grief and loss with your own.” The three men then walked back out into the night. But the darkness was different. Something had happened in the stable. Their blind pain was diminishing. There had been a kind of epiphany. They were noticing the star now.

The script of this performance was written by a man from Central Africa. The unwelcome visitors now knew that God was somehow present in an innocent child who was already destined to be one like them –in all their poverty, pain, depravity and sin. And they also began to believe what we all resist, that this birth in a messy stable was the manger of hope, for themselves and the world.

John the Baptist and Jesus are messengers of hope for the real world, the world that includes peace and war, non-violence and violence, comfort and poverty, health and disease, mental health and depression and security and desperation. We are the ones who must make John’s vision of hope a reality – but Jesus showed us the way. A way of compassion and the peace of God’s comfort and presence.

November 20, 2011                                                         Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“A Different Kind of King”

Matthew 25:31-40, Jean Vanier quote, Psalm 82

The scene in Matthew today is the heavenly court, and Jesus is on the throne, judging people at the last judgment. This is a common passage for this Sunday, the last Sunday of the church year, which is traditionally called, “Christ the King Sunday”. Christ is the king in the divine court, and is separating the good from the bad, the sheep from the goats. I am uncomfortable with this image and frankly; I reject the idea that there will be a last judgment like this, with some people being accepted and others thrown down for eternal punishment. Jesus’ message of love only makes sense to me if I think of all people as accepted, now and forever, all beloved, all embraced by God. But the basis of the judgment in Matthew does make sense to me: that Jesus would identify with the least of these, the oppressed, sick, imprisoned and hungry. Those gathered at the throne who have lived their lives as part of the Kingdom are those who fed the hungry, visited the prisoner, welcomed the stranger, and sought liberty for the oppressed. Those who cared for the least of these are part of the Kingdom. Stanley Hauerwas writes, “The difference between followers of Jesus and those who do not know Jesus is that those who have seen Jesus no longer have any excuse to avoid ‘the least of these.”

I wholeheartedly embrace this idea that whether we have lived as followers of Jesus has little to do with what we believe, or what we know, or if we’ve accepted Jesus as our personal savior – but with what we did for the least of these; did we welcome God in all people, did we feed the hungry and serve those in need? Centuries after the death of Jesus, the best way we can encounter him in the world is in the people who are on the fringes of society, those in the margins, those who are outcaste, sick or poor.

I invite you to look at the icon I have posted around in various places in the sanctuary today: “Christ of the Margins”. This icon, painted by Br. Robert Lentz, shows Jesus Christ with a barbed wire fence, reminiscent of photos of Palestinian refugees and prisoners of war staring out of camps or prisons. Contemplate this image for a bit. It doesn’t show if Jesus is on the inside of the wire, a prisoner, or the outside, looking in at us. In terms of Matthew 25, I think of Jesus as the prisoner – and what we do for the prisoner or refugee, we do for Christ.

The other image that comes to my mind today is (probably inevitably) the image of the children of Guatemala I met on our work trip. I think of one in particular who was part of one of the families I worked with: Brian. Brian was about 8, a quiet boy who didn’t run with the wild boys out in the street, but stayed in the compound with us as we worked on the stove, watching, smiling shyly when I talked to him. Eagerly helping if given a job. Intelligent eyes evaluating me and the world of poverty in which he was born: his eyes quiet, bright, and a little sad. Surely, whatever I did for Brian, I did it for Christ.

Just for the record, I reject the image of Christ the king. There may have been a time in history when it made sense to call Jesus a king. There were good kings, like King Wenceslas of Bohemian, who helped the poor, and supplied them with fresh water and supposedly fought a personal combat with another king in order to preserve the lives of the common soldiers. But most kings have not embodied Christ. And the monarchies today seem to me to have little to do with God’s bias for the poor. They are somewhat interesting celebrities, who put on good marriages, and occasionally do something to help the world, like Princess Diana’s work with AIDS and unwed mothers. But mostly, they are wealthy figureheads, irrelevant to the realities of life in the world today. Peter Woods, a theologian I read as I studied Matthew 25 noted that he preferred the image of Christ the Comrade. A comrade is a friend who stands with us in the trenches of inhuman wars – who shares our suffering and fear, who lights our cigarette as we contemplate going “over the top” and charging the enemy. Christ the king is a meaningless image in the modern world. But Christ the comrade, or Christ the friend, Christ the impoverished child, or Christ the imprisoned refugee is helpful. Where is Christ in this world? If he is not with Brian, my Guatemalan friend, then I have little use for him. If he is not with Palestinian refugees, and the men and women rotting in our nation’s jails, and AIDS victims, and those struggling to live with cancer and disease – then I don’t know where he is. So I reject Christ the King Sunday – in favor of “Christ in the Least of These.”

Now I know that the early church was holding up Jesus Christ as king or emperor in contrast to the kings and emperors of this world. They were saying that Christ is the true emperor, not Caesar, and that the powers of earthly rulers were miniscule in comparison to Christ. I agree with this, but it is remote from me. Emperors and kings do not resonate with me anymore. But it worth asking what kind of king or ruler would Jesus be? Clearly he would be a different kind of king. He would be one who walks humbly with the common people. He would be one who suffers with the people when they are hungry and tries to do something to help. He would be the one who takes people’s places when they are tortured, or imprisoned, and let’s them go free. Who pardons those on death row or even dies in their place. If Jesus is a king, then he is a different kind of king than the world has ever seen.

A Franciscan Blessing is a benediction in the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi who famously gave up his inheritance to serve the poor.  I close with four examples of Franciscan blessings from the twentieth century:

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world; so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

October 30, 2011                                                         Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“We Are All Saints: Ubuntu”

I Corinthians 1:1-2, Romans 8:28, Desmond Tutu, “Recipe for Peace”

Today we are observing “All Saints Day”, which technically doesn’t arrive until Tuesday, Nov. 1^st. It is a Roman Catholic holy day, the day after All Soul’s Day, when historically Christians remember those who have died and gone to heaven: the saints. Karen has arranged for an interactive Children’s Time today when we will remember those who have died, and at the beginning of church today we sang one of my favorite hymns, “For All the Saints”, in honor of those who have gone before us. I can’t sing that hymn without a lump in my throat for my loved ones who have died. But this Sunday always leaves me asking the same question: “Who are these saints we are remembering?” How does one get to be a saint? Is it reserved only for Christians? Is it reserved only for really good, moral Christians? I have to say that I think everyone is a saint, or at least, potentially a saint.

We know of some people who definitely deserve the title. People like Mother Theresa, and Mohandas Gandhi, who definitely tried to live lives of selfless action But I am getting ahead of myself, assuming that one qualifies for sainthood by lives of selfless action. Paul of Tarsus began his first letter to the Corinthians addressing it: “To the church of God which is in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus (who are) called to be saints”. Interesting that Paul seems to imply that anyone can do it. Romans 8:28, also Paul, reads: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love God, who have been called according to God’s purpose”. Some translations of this translate the part “called according to God’s purpose” – “called to be saints”. Are all Christians called to be saints? The Gospel of Thomas, a noncanonical gospel says that all Christians (and perhaps all people) are called to be “twins” of Jesus Christ. That all have it within them to live lives of love and compassion comparable to that of Jesus.  I do not know if that is true, but I do think people are capable of great goodness and virtue.

I ascribe to a segment of Christianity that some trace back to the Celtic Church of Ireland and Scotland (Pelagius was one teacher), that taught the basic goodness of human beings. This idea is that we are made in the image of God and that God’s goodness is a basic part of our nature and we can open ourselves to God’s presence and goodness, and open ourselves to a basic unity with God and with other people. If I carry this belief to a logical conclusion as to the question of sainthood, I would conclude that all humans have an equal shot at sainthood, and that perhaps sainthood is part of our basic nature, if we can just get our false selves, self seeking selves out of the way. We have to die to these false selves and get in touch with our true nature, which is God within: the Kingdom of God which is within.

Ren is a Chinese concept from Confucian thought that guides human behavior.

Yan Hui, Confucius’ student, once asked his master to describe the rules of rén, receiving the answer that he should, “see nothing improper, hear nothing improper, say nothing improper, do nothing improper.” Confucius believed humanity to be good at its very core and therefore considered rén to be a part of everyone. Ren, to behave properly is possible for everyone. I agree. I have read that some Native Americans taught that to be a human being was to be virtuous, compassionate, contributing to the community. Those who were selfish, grasping, greedy and so forth forfeited their humanness. I am drawn to this idea and I find it in almost every culture. To be fully human is to somehow connected to the human community and to loving, upright, compassionate, contributing and what I can only call “good”, toward other humans.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu made famous a South African concept of Ubuntu. In his own words: It is about the essence of being human, it is part of the gift that Africa will give the world. It embraces hospitality, caring about others, being able to go the extra mile for the sake of others. We believe that a person is a person through another person, that my humanity is caught up, bound up, inextricably, with yours. When I dehumanize you, I inexorably dehumanize myself. The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms and therefore you seek to work for the common good because your humanity comes into its own in belonging. He and Nelson Mandela both used Ubuntu to explain why the Apartheid system through which people dehumanized other people, served to dehumanize everyone. Ubuntu is translated, “I am because you are”. My humanity is inextricably bound up with yours. We will survive only together. We will be prosperous only together. We will be truly human only in relationship with other humans. Mandela once said that if we discard anyone dying of AIDS we can no longer call ourselves people.

I think Ubuntu captures what I am trying to says, that we are all called to be saints; that if we are to be truly human, we will be living lives that are good, that are connected to others, that are compassionate, loving, unselfish, serving and seeking the welfare of the all. Our culture used to call this “the common good” or “common wealth”. I am intrigued with Mandela’s idea that we can sink below the status of being people, of being human, if we stop seeking the common good. What is it to be human? It is to be one with God and one with other people. It is to be compassionate (suffering with others), to be self-giving, loving. It is to be saints.

I conclude with a wonderful quote from former Archbishop Tutu in an interview about his book, God Has a Dream:

“God’s dream is that you and I and all of us will realize that we are family, that we are made for togetherness, for goodness, and for compassion. In God’s family, there are no outsiders, no enemies. Black and white, rich and poor, gay and straight, Jew and Arab, Muslim and Christian, Hindu and Buddhist, Hutu and Tutsi, Pakistani and Indian—all belong. When we start to live as brothers and sisters and to recognize our interdependence, we become fully human. This dream can be found throughout the Bible and has been repeated by all of God’s prophets right down to Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mahatma Gandhi.”

November 27, 2011                                                         Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“Peace in God’s Presence”

Isaiah 2:1-4, Isaiah 11:1-10, Luke 2:13

On this first Sunday of Advent we celebrate peace. I have often used this Sunday as a reason to give a sermon about being peacemakers. Scriptures such as the one we read from Isaiah about turning swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks call us to peace. Isaiah 11 offers a vision of the lion lying down with the lamb; Ephesians says that Christ is our peace, who breaks down the dividing wall of our hostility; Luke has the angelic host proclaiming “peace, goodwill to all people”. Looking over old sermons I see that I have exhorted people to seek meaningful peace, not just the absence of conflict, but “the harmonious, non-destructive, non-violent management or control of conflict and tension”, as peace is defined in the “Working Paper on Peace” of the United Church of Christ”. We are called to be peacemakers, seeing non-violent control of conflict, not peace as the world defines it, when one country wins a war and beats another into submission, or the peace after a fight in a school yard and one kid is beaten up and quits, but still holds his smoldering anger and waits for his chance of retribution.

I started trying to put such a call for peace together for today and found myself rebelling from my effort. It felt like I was just laying another burden on everyone. One more thing to feel guilty about: our world has not found a way to peace, despite all our efforts. We, ourselves, have not found a way to peace in our own lives, or in our nation, or between races and classes. Jesus condemned the Sadducees and Pharisees for laying heavy burdens of the law on the Jewish people – whereas Jesus’ burden was light. So I drew back from my usual call to non-violence and wondered what actually constitutes the peace of Christmas. What is the peace Christ offers?

I ran across an article in Desert Call, a publication of Nada Hermitage, the Carmelite Monastery I visit in Crestone, Co. Eric Haarer noted that main present we receive from God at Christmas is “presence”: God’s presence, every minute of every day, God’s presence within us, within others and within creation. Emmanuel, God with us, is the message of Jesus. It means that God is present, not just for 33 years during Jesus’ life in a backwater, Roman province, but every day, for all time.

This is one of main lessons I have learned in my practice of Centering Prayer. That as I sit in meditation, letting go of the countless thoughts and feelings that plague me, returning again and again to my sacred word, the symbol of God’s presence in my life, I am gradually learning that whatever is happening to me, wherever I go, whatever suffering or joy I am experiencing, what centers me is faith in the presence of God. I think perhaps this is a better way of thinking about Christmas peace. That in the midst of life, with it’s suffering and joy, tears and laughter, darkness and light, the constant source of peace is God. Whether we succeed in making peace, or bring change through non-violence, or not, we still have God’s presence, Emmanuel –God with us.

It is not a coincidence that we celebrate Christmas at the darkest time of year, the solstice. The early church didn’t sit down and figure out exactly what time of year Jesus was born: “Let’s see, Mary became pregnant in March, so 9 months makes it Dec. 25^th, how convenient”. I have to think that the early Christians deliberately chose the solstice as the symbol of God’s presence at the darkest time. As Isaiah 9 says, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness a light has shone”. Christmas, like the solstice, is a dawning of light in the darkness – a new beginning – a reminder that God is present when all else seems lost.

We all know this struggle to find peace very well. We all have faced difficult times. We all have lived in lands of deep darkness. The coming of Christ does not fix everything. After he was born, the stable was still filthy, Mary and Joseph were still poor, homeless and in trouble, the Roman rule of Palestine was still violent and oppressive. But his birth was the gift of hope, that despite all the problems, they did not need to be afraid, but could trust that God was still with them. Like Isaiah writing in the Babylonian Exile, though all seemed lost, Isaiah reminded the exiles that God was not defeated, but was still with them next to the rivers of Babylon. They had hope for a return home and deliverance from exile. Above all, they were not alone, but had peace in God’s presence. So it is for us as we face a world that is still at war. We have made some progress, a recent book we discussed at Men’s group notes that less of a percentage of the world is at war than at any time in previous human history. However, all war had not stopped, nor has disease been defeated, poverty and hunger stalk the land, children are born in poverty, millions starve to death each year…we all face death. But we have peace in God’s presence. Meister Eckhart, the Medieval mystic asked what difference it made if Christ was born if he is not born in each of us. The gift of Christmas peace is that no matter what is happening to us we can live without fear. This is what the Angels tell Mary and Joseph, “Fear Not”. It’s what the heavenly hosts sang to the shepherds, it’s what Jesus says to the disciples in the their storm tossed boat, “Be not afraid”.

A practice I have recently added to my spiritual practice is Welcoming Prayer.

This is a practice of Centering prayer developed by Thomas Keating. It was particularly developed by a woman named Mary Mrozowski. One uses the welcoming prayer in any situation in which a painful or difficult emotion or situation is dealt with. The person focuses on the suffering or afflictive emotion, such as fear or anger or physical pain, close. One brings one’s attention fully to the suffering, and then welcomes it: welcome fear, or welcome pain, welcome anger, welcome suffering. It is a way of embracing everything that arises, everything that happens to us, and acknowledging that whatever comes, God is still with us. Then, after we have welcomed it, we let it go.  We say something like: “I let go of my anger”, or if you prefer, “I give my anger to God”. Mary Mrozowski perfected this technique of letting go as she faced extreme pain after a traffic accident. She developed a litany of letting go that I have found very helpful. After I have focused on the afflictive emotion, let’s say it fear of traveling to an unknown place, or with public speaking event, I welcome the fear and then I say Mary’s litany:

I let go of desire for security and survival

I let go of my desire for esteem and affection

I let go of my desire for power and control

I let go of my desire to change the situation.

This last is particularly powerful for me – to let go of the desire to change the current situation. It means welcoming what is, knowing that God is with me just as things are, and accepting reality. I think the basis of welcoming prayer is the faith that whatever happens, or whatever I am facing, God is present. This is finally our main source of peace in life, the presence of God in our suffering and our joy.

October 23, 2011                                                         Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“Choose Love, Choose Compassion”

Matthew 22: 34-40, Deuteronomy 6, “Charter of Compassion”, Karen Armstrong

Jesus’ opponents were trying to trap him again. This time a lawyer came to him and asked what is the most important commandment. Of all the various choices, Jesus chose the “Shema”, Deuteronomy 6: “Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” Then Jesus added on a second, this one from Leviticus 19: “And you shall love your neighbor as yourself”. The question that came to me right away is: “How am I supposed to love God, who seems so distant and mysterious?” Is it about praying and praising God in worship? What’s Jesus asking for? So I started reading about this passage, and the commentaries agree that Jesus intentionally tied loving God to loving neighbor and ourselves. It is not emotional, passionate love Jesus is talking about, but Agape, loving kindness, action. Love in this sense is behavior we choose, something we do not feel.

It is significant to note that when Luke tells this story he follows it with an illustration, the story of the Good Samaritan. This story answers the question, “Who is my neighbor?” and “How do I love God?” The neighbor is the one, the Samaritan, who stops beside the Jericho road. Loving God is the concrete action the Samaritan takes to help. Matthew follows his story with Matthew 25, where people are gathered around the Jesus at the end of time and he tells them: What you did for the least of these, you did for me”. When you helped the hungry, the thirsty, those in prison, the stranger, the sick, you did it for me. Love in this case is about action for other people, for God’s creation, for the other creatures we share the planet with. Clarence Jordan in his parables of liberation (founder of Koinonia Farm and Civil Rights activist) says we move in this passage from “Head Trips” to “Foot Trips”. We take loving and compassionate action for others. That’s how we love God and neighbor.

One of the links on this passage on the Internet led me to a humorous YouTube video that Jack Black and other actors made in California to oppose Proposition 8, the proposition aimed at restricting marriage in California to “One woman and one man”. It was called: “Prop 8: The Musical” to protest a proposed amendment to that state’s constitution that says, “Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid”. In the video a group of conservatives and a group of liberals are arguing over whether homosexuality of allowed by God when Jack Black, playing Jesus, comes on stage. One of the conservatives gets on his knees and says, “Jesus, doesn’t the Bible say these people are an abomination? Jack Black looks at him and says, “Yes, but it says the same thing about this scrimp cocktail”, and pulls out the cocktail and starts to eat it. Black, that is Jesus, reminds them that the Bible forbids eating shellfish. He goes on to say, “The Bible says lots of interesting things, such as you can stone your wife or sell your daughter into slavery. Horrified, the conservatives say, “Well, we ignore those parts of the Bible”. Triumphantly, Jack Black says, “Then it seems you pick and choose” what parts of the Bible to follow. Why not choose love instead of hate. “Picking and choosing” the parts of scripture we pay attention to, but actually, everyone has to pick and choose. Someone noted in relation to Jesus picking the Shema as the greatest commandment, that there are really two main ways of interpreting the Hebrew law: for social control or for social transformation. Jesus chose social transformation when he said we should love God and love our neighbor as ourselves. Jesus didn’t choose the Ten Commandments, or try to justify patriarchy or xenophobia or violence, but chose compassion. In doing this he is in harmony with every major wisdom tradition – every major religion. We are asked to pay attention to the scriptures that call for increase in love of God, love of neighbor and for compassion, and to pay less attention to those parts of scripture that decrease this love. Diana Butler Bass, a church historian calls choosing love and compassion as the heart of Christian: “Greatest Commandment Christianity”.

If we choose to follow this interpretation of Jesus’ greatest commandment, we are to focus on taking action for love. Everything we do, what we eat, what we drive, what we share, who we bomb, how we entertain ourselves, everything, reflects an opportunity to love God by loving our neighbor. I was writing this sermon last night at 8 pm, and feeling sorry for myself, because put it off, and then spent all day with the men’s group putting a new roof on Gwen and Marie’s porch. Then it occurred to me that putting on the roof probably had a lot more to do with Jesus’ greatest commandment than anything I might say today. If I play off Matthew 25 and the people’s question of Jesus: “When did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or in prison, or a stranger”, I could ask, “When did I see someone loving God?” When they were helping put on a roof. When they were walking the CROP Walk and raising money to feed people. When I saw volunteers working in the Thrift Shop of the Sr. Carmen Center Friday when I dropped off some stuff. When our church was collecting lots of stuff for PASO (Providers Advancing School Outcomes). When people were bringing in food for BCAP. When I was talking to my friend who works in the Boulder Shelter for the Homeless, just opening for the winter in North Boulder. When I visit Hospice and meet volunteers and staff caring for the dying and their families. When a church welcomes gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender persons. When someone builds a house for another person. When someone listens to a troubled young person. When someone volunteers at the animal shelter. There are so many ways to love God.

We are called to study scripture and make choices about how to live in harmony with the God of Truth and with the wisdom of Jesus. Let us choose the way of love: the way of compassion.

October 16, 2011                                                        Sermon by Peter Terpenning

Community United Church of Christ

Boulder, Colorado

“What Belongs to God and What Belongs to Caesar?”

Isaiah 49:15-16, Matthew 22:15-22

God or Caesar: in Matthew today is a passage that is one of the more familiar passages of scripture, for it addresses a question many have asked, do we always obey the government, or not? Many scholars, politicians and organizers have taken positions on this point and you have probably heard me or other preachers talk about it – it’s an important passage. So first let’s set the stage and hear a little history. The Pharisees and Herodians approach Jesus to trap him. The taxes Rome required of Israel were very controversial. Historically, the Jewish people had advocated loyalty to the one God, not to governments such as the Babylonians, Assyrians and others who had ruled them. Now Rome was the Domination System. The Herodians were the party of Herod and cooperated with Rome for their own profit. They paid taxes and even collected taxes for Rome. The Pharisees did not cooperate with Rome and viewed taxes to Rome as being against God, for the coins with which taxes were paid had the image of Tiberius Caesar, Son of the Divine Augustus stamped on one side, and Pontifex Maximus, Chief Priest of Roman Polytheism, stamped on the other. Roman religion and emperor worship were in direct conflict with the Hebrew commandment, have no other gods before me. The tax in question was the Poll Tax and was paid with a Denarius this image of Tiberius’ image on it. But the Pharisees tolerated the tax though they thought it evil. The Zealots opposed Rome, refused to pay the tax and were in open rebellion. In this divided situation came John the Baptist, who opposed the Herodians, criticized them, and was executed by them partly over this issue of taxes and Roman allegiance.

So the Herodians and Pharisees, odd bedfellows to say the least, come to Jesus to trap him in this issue: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” If he says it’s ok to pay the tax, he is in conflict with the Commandments and could be seen as going against God. If he says not to pay the tax, he is in conflict with Rome and could be labeled a Zealot and perhaps arrested. In fact, one of the charges later leveled against him at his trial was: “This man opposes paying taxes to Caesar and claims to be the Christ, a king” (Luke 23:2) Jesus answers in a way that forces the question back on them. He asks for a coin with Tiberius’ image and asks whose face in on the coin. Then he gives his famous teaching: “Render unto Caesar those things which are Caesar’s and render unto God those things which are God’s”. The money clearly belongs to Caesar, to the government, so give it back to the government. It’s a clever answer for he leaves his audience still in doubt and forces them to answer their own question. The key is what belongs to God? This is what makes his answer brilliant. In Genesis we read that we are made in the image and likeness of God: “God created man in his image, in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27). The Jews believed that humans bear the image of God, so everything human belongs to God. Even Tiberius and his coins belong to God, so taken to the logical conclusion, is there in fact anything that that belong to Caesar and not to God? Jesus answers the question in a way that forces his audience and everyone to answer it themselves. You tell me, he says, what belongs to God?

Through history people have answered this question in different ways. The early Christian Church took this teaching to mean non-cooperation with Rome and refused to worship Caesar or pay taxes or serve in his armies. Many, like Martin Luther in the peasant uprising in Germany, have answered the other way, that we owe obedience to Caesar, that we must obey the government and called for suppression of the peasants. However, later, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and others called for non-obedience when the government of Germany was Nazi. Certainly, cooperation or non-cooperation must be reconsidered when the government is apartheid, Jim Crow, Hitler or even global capitalism as Marcus Borg said in one of our readings. Gandhi quoted this text to support non-cooperation with Britain in India. Bertrand Russell argued for civil disobedience in 1936 against war in his article, “Which way to peace?” “All great advances have involved illegality. The early Christians broke the law, Galileo broke the law. French (and American) revolutionaries broke the law; early trade unionists broke the law. The instances are so numerous and so important that no one can maintain as an absolute principle obedience to constituted authority.” However, many, like Luther, have held that Jesus meant we are to obey Caesar and God! “My country, right or wrong” captures this sentiment. Some would say that without obedience to the laws of the government we would have chaos and anarchy. The question is still unanswered and each of us must answer it ourselves. This teaching of Jesus, so long ago, in another age and culture, is simply brilliant – it still has the power to make us uncomfortable.

It is obvious by the way I have framed this sermon that I come down on the side of non-cooperation. I’ve never liked hanging flags in churches, for I think our ultimate loyalty is to God. I think Jesus meant that we all bear the image of God and that everything and all people, governments and coins belong to God. However, I also believe that government and law is necessary. There would be chaos without some order. We do our best to make rules in community to live together. I believe enforcement it necessary at times. However, when the law conflicts with God’s compassion and justice (admittedly a subjective decision) people of faith are called to follow God. An unjust war or tax, or law should be opposed. Those who withhold the amount of tax that pays for war, for example, would be justified, if the war was unjust. The Civil Rights movement was justified in disobeying Jim Crow laws. Henry David Thoreau was correct to refuse to pay the poll tax that would pay for the Mexican War when it sought to extend slavery into the Mexican territories. There is a time to refuse to pay Caesar. We must choose.

One last thought: the passage in Isaiah notes that not only are we made in the image of God, but that God never forgets us and has inscribed us on the palm of God’s hands. God has a tattoo (who  knew?)– our image on God’s palms. So we bear God’s image, and God bears ours. What a comforting thought. We are loved and held. As we seek to obey and follow God and make hard decisions in our lives, God is with us and in us. We carry in us the wisdom of God’s love and justice, and so do our governing authorities, police and soldiers. Let us not get tired of striving to discover truth and follow compassion.