As we near the end of our sermon series about “disputing with God”, we’ve been given this text, Mark’s version of Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. It’s pretty clear why this passage wound up in the series: I can’t think of a more intriguing sermon topic than “God arguing with Godself”. I’m sure we’ve all wondered at some point how a prayer from one person of the Trinity to another would work - is it like talking to yourself? Or is it more like a “multiple personality” situation? How can something be both not what Jesus wants, and also what God does want at the same time? There are a lot of fascinating directions that this sort of sermon could take. But as I wrestled with which of these questions I should tackle this week, I found an entirely different one distracting me: why are the disciples reacting SO differently from Jesus in this passage?
This weekend (this whole year, really) our country has been celebrating 250 years of independence from British rule - the “birthday” of the United States. But even as we display our sense of national pride with waving flags, parades, and red, white, and blue EVERYTHING, many of us hold our sense of patriotism alongside complicated feelings. It’s not that we don’t love our country; it’s that we recognize a deep and painful divide between ourselves and our fellow compatriots. The wound is deep. Our seemingly insurmountable differences make us question whether we’ll be able to be “one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all” ever again.
In one of his commentaries, John Calvin calls the psalms, “an anatomy of all the parts of the soul,” because he believed that there was no human emotion that can’t be found within this collection of poetry. And he’s right: themes range the gamut from ecstatic joy to sorrowful remorse to righteous anger. In fact, many of the psalms incorporate several emotions all together at once: lament, repentance, thanksgiving, and praise all in one convenient package.
This second half of the book of Jonah may not be a proper dispute with God, as there’s not much direct back and forth between Jonah and God, but there’s certainly a struggle of wills on display here. Many people in Scripture push back when God calls them to prophecy or leadership, but Jonah elevates resistance to an art form. At first, he attempts to literally run away from God’s instructions, which famously lands him inside the belly of an enormous fish. Only then, after God delivers Jonah from his predicament by way of fish vomit, does Jonah begrudgingly make his way to Nineveh to proclaim the message that God had given him.
Last week we began our Advent series by considering why we need to fully receive and appreciate God’s gifts to us before we regift them to others. Without taking this first step in the process, we can’t explain why the gift is significant to us and why we want to pass it on. But as good as it feels to name the ways that God has blessed us, we can’t afford to get stuck on this step. Personal gratitude for God’s gifts is important, but it does very little to advance God’s kindom or make disciples on its own. So this week, we’re turning to Mary once again in order to learn what we should do next: the second step in regifting what God has given us.
During the past four weeks of Advent, we’ve been learning about the four women that Matthew includes in his version of Jesus’ genealogy: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba. Since the Christian tradition has historically privileged the actions and perspectives of men, it’s important for us to remember that Jesus’ life and ministry would not have been possible without these women. Not only literally, in that their bodies gave life to the ancestors that make up the line of David, but also through their gifts of tenacity, perception, companionship, and strength – a heritage that shaped God’s people and set the stage for everything that Jesus would be and do during his earthly life.
We’ve read some tough stories about the women in Jesus’ genealogy over the past three weeks. But while Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth all had to overcome significant odds, Bathsheba’s situation is on a whole different level. At least the other three women were able to exercise a certain level of agency, in spite of their patriarchal contexts. Bathsheba, on the other hand, almost seems trapped within her own story. In fact, although nothing in 2 Samuel 11 could have happened without her, Scripture depicts her almost as if she doesn’t even matter as a human being. For all intents and purposes, her humanity is erased entirely.
This time of year, we tend to put a lot of emphasis on faithfulness – with good reason. The story of Christmas would not exist as we know it without many people’s willingness to do as God asks: Mary and her willingness to bear the son of God, Joseph and his willingness to raise a son that isn’t his, the shepherds and magi and their willingness to worship an infant from a poor family – all these figures are considered righteous specifically because of their faithfulness. We wouldn’t have Jesus without it. But for all the emphasis that we place on faithfulness as a path to righteousness, it’s far from the ONLY one. In fact, since God is the one to determine what IS righteous, God can assign that designation however God sees fit – even to someone who’s decidedly UNfaithful. Rahab is the perfect example of this.
This liturgy is based on our Advent Theme this year, "The Gifts of Women", based on the women in Matthew's account of Jesus' genealogy. (Due to a family emergency, we wound up switching weeks 2 and 3.)
*You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*
Hymns
Hymn GTG #106, “Prepare the Way, O Zion”
Hymn GTG #324, “For All the Faithful Women" [v. 1 + New Verse:]
For Ruth, we lift our voices in gratitude and praise;
Naomi’s true companion, a friend through all her days.
Although the way was rocky, they each were not alone –
Ruth’s loyalty a path to Christ Jesus on his throne.
Hymn GTG #100, “My Soul Cries Out With a Joyful Shout”
It’s Advent-tide once more, my friends, and once again we’ll be spending the next four weeks preparing our hearts to receive the coming Messiah. But while many churches use this time to recall the events immediately preceding Jesus’ birth, it’s important for us to remember that Jesus’ story doesn’t begin in the gospels. In fact, the impact of the incarnation is severely diminished without understanding everything that came before it. So while we’ll definitely still spend Christmas Eve with the beloved stories of the angels, the shepherds, the manger, and the magi, these next four weeks will be devoted to things that came long before all that.
Join us as we unveil Boone's new mission statement...
Over the past three weeks, we’ve covered a lot of important ground in Boone’s new Mission Statement: we discussed who we ARE (a safe space for all), what we BELIEVE (Christ commands us to love), and what we DO (create change through worship, learning, and service). All of these are the sorts of things that define us as a community; they’re the sorts of things that someone looking for a new church home might be curious about. But as informative as all this is, it’s also important for us to recognize the goals that we AREN’T quite achieving yet, to name the aspirational aspects of our mission. And so, the last part of the ABCs of Boone outlines what we, as a community, DREAM of being and doing.
Join us as we unveil Boone's new mission statement...
TO BE CONTINUED...
So far in our mission statement, we’ve talked about what we ARE and what we BELIEVE as a community. But a good mission statement has to be about more than that; it also has to describe what we DO. As a church, we obviously DO all the normal churchy things – worship, Christian Education, and service projects – but it’s important for us to remember that while these activities are pretty universal within Christian communities, they aren’t actually defining characteristics in and of themselves of the Church at large. We don’t do them for their own sake – we have a larger goal, in which these activities are more properly used as a means to an end.
Join us as we unveil Boone's new mission statement...
TO BE CONTINUED...
This week, we’re beginning a sermon series in which we unveil our brand-new mission statement. Our old mission statement was wonderful, but churches should revise their mission statement at least every five years – we are, after all, a Church “reformed and always reforming”. So much has changed for us even just since COVID that it’s time for us to reimagine how we present ourselves to the world. So, after much discussion, deliberation, and discernment, Session voted to adopt this new statement, which I’ve lovingly nicknamed “the ABCs of Boone”.
The first part of the mission statement, the “A” that we’ll talk about today, is about who we ARE. As Session began working to articulate how this community has evolved since the split, calling a new pastor, and dealing with COVID, one obvious theme kept coming up again and again: “We are a safe space for all: where you can be exactly who God created you to be – Presbyterian or not!” This goes beyond our welcome of our LGBT+ siblings (although that’s certainly an important part of it). Boone is a place where you’re safe to be open about your mental health struggles, to share your doubts about God, to disagree with the pastor - even to confess that you don’t consider yourself Presbyterian! (You can decide for yourself which of those things is the most “scandalous”.) To be clear, this doesn’t mean that everyone will feel like they BELONG here (like those, for example, who were unwilling to wear a mask during COVID) but THEY will always be the ones to decide that, not us, and until then, we try to make sure that they feel SAFE in our midst.
This is a guiding principle for Boone because it’s a guiding principle of scripture. There are plenty of passages I could have chosen to illustrate this – the woman accused of adultery, for example, or Psalm 23, or the prodigal son – but I chose this passage from Isaiah. I chose it, because it reminds us why we, the Church, exist. Not just to be kind or merciful or charitable in isolated moments, but to bring about the very kindom of God here and now and always. And Isaiah 11 insists that that kindom is not one of conformity and dominion, but of peace and safety, where no harm or destruction occurs anywhere that belongs to God. Safety for all creation is the primary characteristic of God’s kindom, and so safety is one of the values that we cherish most deeply here in this community - whether physical, emotional, or spiritual in nature.
Notice what this passage DOESN’T say. It doesn’t say that the goat will no longer be a goat, and the lion will no longer be a lion. It doesn’t say that they’ll be converted into something that they weren’t before. Too frequently, modern Christians have become gatekeepers, more concerned with enforcing their rules and changing others to fit their mold. But in God’s kindom, the goat doesn’t need to match the leopard’s ferocity; the lion doesn’t need to turn INTO an ox in order to eat straw like an ox. The only things that change are the behaviors that keep them from living together in harmony. THIS is the reflection of the kindom that we want to be – a place where all can coexist in their differences in peace. Where all are safe to be THEMSELVES.
Now, of course, safety isn’t something that just happens, and it isn’t something that can just be assumed. Vulnerable people will never feel safe until a space is PROVEN to be safe. No lamb will lie down with a wolf until the wolf has convincingly demonstrated that it’s not a threat (and as little Red Riding Hood can tell you, a wolf’s words alone aren’t good enough). To a certain extent, then, our claim of being a safe space for all is more of an aspirational commitment than a perfect descriptor. We will always have to work to prove that we are what we say we are.
Fortunately, Scripture has us covered on that front, too – although we might have to read this passage through a new lens to realize it. We most often encounter Isaiah 11 at Christmas because Christians have historically read it as a “prediction” or prophesy of Jesus’ birth: Jesus, the root of Jesse, will come to live among us, he’ll fix everything, and then everyone will get along perfectly. If you happen to look around and notice that herbivores and carnivores still aren’t mingling socially even though Jesus HAS come, well, then that just means that this passage must be referring to the RETURN of Christ. Zootopia is just waiting for the SECOND coming.
But what if, rather than placing all our hope for God’s kindom on some unknown date in the future, on an event completely outside of our control, we instead read verses 1-5 as being about each of US? What if WE are the shoot of Jesse, WE are the branch sprouting from his roots. If we read the passage in this way, then it means that our efforts to be guided by God’s spirit – a spirit of wisdom and understanding, of counsel and strength, of knowledge and reverence – will be the thing that leads directly to this kindom of peace. If we decide not to judge by appearances nor to decide by hearsay, then WE can create the holy mountain where none will be harmed or destroyed. What if it’s up to US?
My kindred in Christ, I’m telling you that it IS up to us. This is what we have to be in order to live out the mission that we’ve claimed. We have to actively pursue these things to create a world in which wolves can lie down with lambs and all of God’s beloved children are safe – and KNOW they’re safe – from any sort of harm. And if we are truly committed to living as ones who will bring about the kindom, as our new mission statement suggests, then we need to cultivate a sense of safety not just in the space we inhabit on Sunday mornings, but in our whole lives. WE need to be safe spaces ourselves, so that the kindom described in Isaiah 11 can spread beyond our self-contained islands of sanctuary into our streets, our grocery stores, our nightclubs, and our schools.
There is still a tragically long road standing between us and this peaceable kindom. The world remains an unsafe place for far too many people in far too many ways. I didn’t set out to discuss anything controversial in this sermon, but this past Wednesday, there was yet another terrible incidence of gun violence at a school, where four people died and nine others were injured. Of all people in all possible places, children should be able to feel safe at school. And yet, that’s not the world that we’ve created for them; that’s not the kingdom we’ve made for ourselves.
Many people have responded to this tragedy by saying, “It could have been worse.” And it could have. The staff were almost immediately able to alert security thanks to special new high-tech IDs, which undoubtedly saved lives. The classroom doors at Apalachee High School automatically locked, significantly restricting the shooter’s movements. And school resource officers responded quickly and heroically.[1] But this is not safety. How many of that school’s students do you think will feel safe when they return to school next week? How many more security systems, how many more locked doors, how many more officers will it take? This should not be a fact of life. This is not what the kindom of God looks like.
Our nation is not willing to make the same commitment to collective safety that Isaiah 11 demands. Which is, of course, its right – we are NOT, after all, a Judeo-Christian nation, nor should we seek to be. But if those of us here today take seriously our desire to be a safe space for everyone, if we really believe in the inevitability of God’s kindom, if we really, truly consider Scripture to be an authority on our lives, then we cannot let this stand. We cannot let our nation’s priorities go unquestioned. Because we, the Church, exist not just to be kind or merciful or charitable in isolated moments, but to bring about the very kindom of God, a kindom of peace and safety for all, here and now and always.
It's relatively easy to PROCLAIM ourselves a safe space for everyone – especially when our idea of safety only extends as far as “no harassment” or “no judgement”. These are important aspects of it, but they only scratch the surface. Existing as a truly safe space for others is not, and will never be, easy. It requires profound strength – which is the last thing that the Isaiah passage has to teach us.
Just before the depiction of the Peaceable Kingdom begins in verse 6, Isaiah describes one last quality of the one who can bring it about: “Righteousness will be the belt around [their] hips, and faithfulness the belt around [their] waist.” But this isn’t a belt as we might picture it. The Hebrew word, *aizor*, is more accurately described as a “waist cloth” or a “girdle”. In biblical times, it was used to tie up one’s robes in preparation for a feat requiring great strength and exertion, whether at work or in battle[2] (this is, of course, where the term “gird your loins” comes from).
When Isaiah tells us that the root of Jesse wears an *aizor*, he’s making it clear that this figure has a difficult task ahead. But the strength that THIS task requires isn’t the strength of power or dominance as an *aizor* would normally suggest. It is the strength righteousness and faithfulness that will ultimately lead to God’s kindom. It’s the strength of being of one mind with God that will create a safe place for all.
So, friends, as we commit to being a place of safety – a glimpse of the peaceable kingdom for all – let us gird our hearts with an *aizor* of righteousness and one of faithfulness, for the road we face is long and difficult. Our mission doesn’t stop at the door of this building; we must carry this sense of sanctuary out with us into the world. We must keep working to make Caldwell a safe space for all, and then Idaho, and then the Mountain West, and onward and outward and upward until there’s not a single person left who would find it unusual for a calf and young lion to share a meal together. Until there’s not a single person left who feels unsafe anywhere in God’s whole creation.
This is an enormous task – one that righteousness and faithfulness may not feel sufficient to meet, even when supplemented with a spirit of wisdom and strength and knowledge. But it’s the task that our faith calls us to, the one that we’ve been unable to abandon even during the most challenging chapters in this community’s life. It is, after all, who we are. And God willing, for the sake of those who have gone before us and of those who will come after, it is who we always will be. Thanks be to God for this clarity of mission: may we rise to meet the challenge. Amen.
This Advent, we’re going to be investigating “The Xmas Files” together: we’ll be taking on the role of detectives: digging into the scripture that informs our understanding of that first Christmas Day over 2000 years ago, and examining how those events still echo in our lives today. Although undoubtedly a worthwhile endeavor for the weeks leading up to Christmas, this task won’t be easy because, if we’re being honest, we’re pretty far from objective as investigators go. These stories have personal meaning to us, and we’ve heard them so many times (usually in the exact same context and manner) that our understanding of them has calcified over the years into something easy and comfortable. While this generally suits us fine in an otherwise festive time of year, if I had to pick any two words that absolutely do NOT describe God’s kindom, I’d probably choose “easy” and “comfortable”. So, as members of a denomination that traditionally places a high value on intellectual curiosity, we’re going to let go of what we think we know, put on our detective hats, and trust God’s Word enough to subject it to questioning – starting this week with the question of WHO?
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