Sunday, May 29, 2011

Still Here

The Rev. Dr. Whitworth Ferguson III
Manassas Presbyterian Church
Manassas, Virginia
May 29, 2011

Still Here
Mark 13:32-37

Well, we are all still here, aren’t we?
Six o’clock came and went last Saturday;
the Preakness was run;
familes sat down to dinner;
young folks went off to proms.

Did you stop, even for a moment on Saturday to wonder?
To wonder whether something might happen?
It was one of the few Saturdays
I wasn’t spending the day working on a sermon,
but I wondered whether there were
other pastors who were preparing for Sunday services
who might have stopped after lunch
and thought,        
“I wonder if I need to finish this?”

The man who predicted the end of the world
has, of course, backed off his prediction.
He now thinks it will happen in the fall.
He’s no less adamant that the End is imminent.
He was just a little off on his math he says.

When he originally sat down to do his calculations
he determined that the Day of Judgment would come
“exactly 7,000 years” after the Flood.
(Family Radio website)
Based on his calculation of the date of the Flood,
7,000 years brings us to 2011.
He picked the 21st of May because
he says that’s the day the Flood began.

Confront him with the words our Lord spoke in our lesson
“…about that day or hour no one knows,
neither the angels in heaven,
nor the Son, but only the Father,”
and the man brushes it off.

Yes, that may be what Jesus said, he argues,
but a passage in the Old Testament,
in the book of Ecclesiastes, says,
“Whoever obeys a command will meet no harm,
and the wise mind will know the time and way.”
(8:5)

He is quite confident that he has a wise mind,
And so he believes that he knows the time and the way.
And ominously, the Hebrew word we translate as “way”
can also be translated as “judgment”.
So: the wise mind can know
and will know the time and judgment.
Or at least that’s one man believes.

What do we do with this?
Much of the world dismisses the man as eccentric at best,
but he stakes his claim as a man who follows Jesus Christ,
as a man who reads and studies the Bible.
We don’t have to agree with him,
but we should not mock him or laugh at him.

He is after all, right about one thing:
there will be an end.
That we do take on faith.
We believe that Christ will come again
come again in glory,
ushering in a new age of heaven on earth.

But just when will that day will come?
Our Lord went to great lengths to teach us
that we shouldn’t waste our time trying to figure it out.
There are at least six different places
in the gospels where Jesus says the same thing
he says in our lesson: only God knows,
so just stay alert and ready.

Our lesson is so clear,
and yet so many have spent so much time over the centuries
trying to determine the year, the day,
the time, the place.
Why is it that we Christians seem so eager
to take what we read in the Bible
and make more of it than what is there,
than what is right before us?
                                   
We are so quick to take passages out of context;
quick to interpret the words we read
to suit our own beliefs,
our own pre-conceived notions.
The Word should shape our lives
but we prefer to shape the Word to fit our lives.

We’ve done that with passages about slavery;
we’ve done that with passages about women;
we’ve done that with passages about war and peace.

Biblical interpretation is at the heart
of yet another controversy that’s been playing out
even as we’ve been focused on whether the
Day of Judgment was looming.

Rob Bell, a pastor at a megachurch out in Michigan
has written a new book entitled,
“Love Wins: A Book about Heaven and Hell”
The book has become a bestseller,
but even before the ink was dry on the pages
people began to shout that Bell was a heretic
a blasphemer,
shameful, ignorant,
faithless.

The rants have been flying fast and furious
because of Bell’s thesis,
which is that the hell that comes to mind
for most Christians whenever we hear that word,
hell as a place of eternal damnation,
hell as a place of fire and flames to torment the doomed,
that hell is a fiction,
something that isn’t biblical,
something we’ve created over the centuries.

“Bell is wrong,”
shout furious hordes, waving Bibles,
pointing to passage after passage:
Jesus speaking of “eternal fire”
(Matthew 18:8)
Jesus speaking of a place of
“Outer darkness,
where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth”
(Matthew 22:13)
Jesus speaking of “eternal punishment”
(Matthew 25:46)
                                   
Yes, those passages are there,
but Bell argues that the very notion of hell
as a place of eternal torment and punishment
simply doesn’t fit with the God revealed in Jesus Christ:
a God of grace, of mercy,
of forgiveness, of love.
Why, Bells asks, would this God
the God we worship,
want to torment anyone,
especially for all eternity?
Punish the sinner – yes.
But torment and torture forever and ever?

Yet, this has been the teaching of the church over the centuries.
Find chapter 32 of the Westminster Confession of Faith
in our Book of Confessions,
and this is what we read:
“… the souls of the wicked are cast into hell,
where they remain in torment
and utter darkness….
punished with everlasting destruction
(Chapter 32/6.177)

Bell is unbowed,
and I find his argument compelling
and persuasive.
The Old Testament doesn’t speak of heaven or hell.
When you died, you went to Sheol,
the place of the dead.
Sheol was neither heaven nor hell;
everyone went there, the good and the bad.

It was in the centuries immediately preceding the birth of Christ,
that we find the development of the idea of
separate places for the dead:
one place for the good, another for the bad.

When Odysseus traveled through the land of the dead
in Homer’s Odyssey,
written 700 years before the birth of Christ,
all the dead were in one place,
the good, the bad,
the honorable, the scoundrel,
all in the same place.

Jump ahead more than 650 years
to shortly before the birth of Jesus
and read of Aeneus’ travels through the land of the dead
in Virgil’s Aeneid,
and here we find the honored and honorable
in a part of the underworld known as Elysium,
the Elysian Fields, a beautiful, peaceful place.
Thieves, criminals, and the just plain bad
were sent to a different place,
a place called Tartarus,
a place deeper in the bowels of the earth,
a place ruled by the Titans.
Tartarus is described as
“An enormous fortress
ringed with triple walls and raging around it all,
a blazing flood of lava, a River of Fire,
whirling thunderous boulders crashing about…
and groans resounding from the depths,
the savage crack of the lash,
the grating creak of iron,
the clank of dragging chains.”
Imagine: a Roman poet gives us one of the very first images
of what we now think of as hell.

In the second letter of Peter we learn that
it is Tartarus to which sinners are sent!
(2 Peter 2:4)
This should not be as surprising as it first sounds, though.
The land of Judah was dominated by Greek thinking and philosophy
and of course governed by the Romans.
Cross-cultural sharing of ideas has always been common. 

A careful reading of the gospels
shows us that each time Jesus’ made a reference
to a place we think he called “hell”
the word was “Gehenna”
which was a place - the garbage dump just outside Jerusalem,
as foul, as frightening, as fearsome a place,
as anyone could imagine,
where the flames burned constantly,
and noxious smoke darkened even the brightest day.
Live a sinful life, and the end that awaited you,
was to have your body thrown into the flames of Gehenna.
The place made for powerful imagery for a teacher:
“You don’t want to wind up here, do you?”

 A man named Origen,
one of the earliest church fathers,
writing in the third century argued that
when Jesus spoke of flames
he was speaking metaphorically, hyperbolically,
the teacher making his point.
And the flames he spoke of were a purifying fire,
not a punishing fire:
“The fire that is brought on the world is purifying,
and it…is applied to each individual
who needs judgment by fire together with healing.”
(Contra Celsum,V-15, 275)

Fire as a refining fire,
its purpose to burn out the bad,
so that nothing remains but the good.
This is just what the Bible teaches us
through the Old Testament prophet Malachi
who spoke of God as “a refiner’s fire…
he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver,
 and he will purify and refine like gold and silver…”
(Malachi 3)

This makes sense, doesn’t it?
This fits with our notion of God
as a God of mercy,
of love,
of grace,
of forgiveness.
This is the God the Psalmist wrote of:
Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones,
 and give thanks to his holy name.         
For his anger is but for a moment;
his favor is for a lifetime.
(Psalm 30)

God’s anger “is but for a moment”.
God may punish, as an loving parent will,
but like any loving parent,
God punishes to reform,
to turn the bad to good,
to bring repentance,
for what God wants is reconciliation with all his children.

“Bosh and nonsense,” said Augustine a century later.
Augustine thought Origen was just being soft,
coddling the sinner.
Augustine went so far as to argue that those in heaven
would find themselves delighted
by the eternal torment of the doomed.
(City of God, Book 21)

Augusine’s view won out
and we built on it for the next 1500 years:
Dante, Milton, Jonathan Edwards
and to many others adding to the picture of hell
that we now find so frightening.

It is any wonder that we get caught up
in predictions of The Day of Judgment,
the imminent Rapture,
the coming Tribulation,
a time of weeping and gnashing of teeth,
eternal punishment in the flames of hell
awaiting the lost:
“O Sinner! Consider the fearful dangers you are in:
‘Tis a great Furnace of Wrath,
a wide and bottomless Pit,
full of the Fire of Wrath…”
(Edwards, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”)
                 
But the good news is that,
the title of Bell’s book is right: love wins.
And the one who is love,
our Lord Jesus Christ guides us and teaches us
so that we can live our lives not in fear
but confident, grounded in God’s grace and love.
                          
Yes, stay alert, be attentive,
for Christ will come again,
will come “like a thief in the night.”

But as long as we live faithfully following Christ,
we have nothing to worry about.
As that passage from Ecclesiastes reminds us,
as long as we obey the commands of our King,
no harm will come to us.

And here’s the ironic part.
It is a passage in Matthew’s gospel
where Jesus speaks of eternal punishment,
of separating the sheep from the goats,
that helps us to understand how we are to live our lives.
We miss the lesson because our focus is on
the eternal punishment,
the separation of the sheep and goats.

But if we listen to what Jesus wants us to learn
then if we live this way, we can live fearlessly:
if we feed the hungry,
if we give the thirsty something to drink,
if we welcome the stranger,
if we clothe the naked,
if we take care of the sick,
if we visit the prisoner,
then we’ve nothing to worry about.
(Matthew 25)

That’s it.
Live that way and there’s nothing to fear.
Nothing to fear when that day does come,
nothing to fear about what lies ahead.

Our call is to put all our efforts
into creating heaven on earth here and now.
That’s how Bell ends his thoughtful book.
That way, we will be ready for God’s heavenly realm
whenever that day comes.
So we can put away our calculators
if we just go out and serve the Lord.
That way, love wins. 

AMEN

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Don’t Run Away

The Rev. Dr. Whitworth Ferguson III
Manassas Presbyterian Church
Manassas, Virginia
May 15, 2011
Confirmation Sunday

Don’t Run Away
Jonah 1:1-17

“Be very careful how you answer this question.”
That’s the warning I give every year to
the students in the confirmation class
when we get to question 13 on their final exam.
Each year, as part of our Closing Retreat,
Mary Langley and I lead the class
through a 50-question final exam.
We do the exam together as one last learning opportunity.
Everyone passes, so there is no anxiety about the exam,
but the questions cover a year’s worth of learning,
and some of them are designed to be difficult and challenging.

Question 13 is the only one which merits a warning to the students
about how they respond, though.
Here’s the question:
“Churches are often dull, stuffy, and boring because”
a. The rules under which they operate are 500 years old.
b. The officials who govern churches never change the rules.
c.  Ministers are dull, stuffy and boring.
d.  The people within the church get complacent
     and don’t change.

I’ll give you all the same warning I gave the students:
be very careful about choosing “C” as your response!
There’s no question though:
ministers can be dull, stuffy and boring.
From time to time we are; I won’t argue that.
But that’s not why churches are dull, stuffy and boring.

Once they realize they’d better not choose C
students tend to lean to A as their response:
“Because the rules under which churches operate
are 500 years old.”

I think there is a perception among younger folks
that most churches operate under ancient, cobwebbed rules;
rules written with quill pens on parchment in florid language,
heavy on the “thous”, “thees” and “thines”.
To young folks, the machinery of the church
can often seem rusted, creaky,
groaning with age.
But still we do manage to clank ahead with the times.
After all, when was the last time you heard of a church
having a trial for heresy?
                          
When I was in Confirmation Class
and faced the 24 Elders who sat on the Session of my church
as I went through my final examination,
there wasn’t a woman among the group.
The PCUSA  was in the middle of a contentious struggle
over whether to allow women to be ordained
to the offices of elder, deacon or minister.
Happily, we’ve long since removed that barrier.

The answer to the question, though, is D:
Churches grow dull, stuffy, and boring
because the people within the church grow complacent
and resist change.
They resist God’s Holy Spirit, God’s ever present call,
just as surely as Jonah resisted God’s call.

Churches grow dull when the people within
grow less interested in opening themselves
to the transforming power of God’s Holy Spirit,
than in reshaping Jesus to suit themselves.
The dull church eventually becomes little more than
a group of individuals satisfied with themselves,
a blanket of self-righteousness and certainty covering them;
no longer a community that is one in Christ,
no longer the Body of Christ.
                                                                                                  
God is always tapping us on the shoulder,
each of us, all of us,
calling us to new ways to build the Kingdom,
even the smallest part of it.
God is always calling us out of complacency.
And God calls us whether we want to be called or not.

God hopes, and even expects that
we will respond to his tap on the shoulder as Isaiah did,
proclaiming boldly, “Here I am, Lord,”
just as we will sing in a few minutes.
“Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

Of course, we can respond as Jonah did,
running from God’s call.
Look at the effort Jonah went to
to avoid serving God:
racing off to the port of Joppa,
and then grabbing the first boat headed
as far from Nineveh as possible.
Jonah was so adamant in not wanting to do what
God was calling him to do,
that he was even willing to die,
to be thrown overboard
into the crashing waves of a fierce storm.

We must not be Jonahs, any of us.
We must not, and we cannot, run away from God
especially from God’s call to build the church,
to build the church as a faithful body of Christ.
so that it doesn’t become dull, stuffy and boring.

We are called to build a church
which is vibrant, spiritual, faithful,
where we understand the importance of humility,
of intellectual honesty and openness,
of graciousness and genuine friendship
all in the name of the head of our church,
Jesus Christ.

As we welcome our newest members,
it’s as good a time as any to ask ourselves
what kind of church are they joining.
What kind of church have we invited them to be part of?
Dull?
Stuffy?
A place in need of a fresh breeze to blow away the stale?
The tired?
The worn-out?
                 
A few months back I was reading the memoirs 
of an Anglican priest named Charles Raven.
He served the church in the early years of the 20th century.
One sentence in his story grabbed me
and has stuck with me since:
“[I have found] the church is a poor advertisement for its Lord.”

“The church a poor advertisement for its Lord”,
for the head of the Church, our Lord Jesus Christ.
Raven, a man of the church,
condemned the church for being
complacent, dull,
anti-intellectual,
bordering on the irrelevant.

The road to becoming a poor advertisement for Christ
is the same road Jonah took – the road away from God,
the road away from work,
service,
commitment,
faithful response to God’s call.

The road God calls us to walk,
to making the church a bright, inviting reflection of Jesus Christ
isn’t as hard as we sometimes think it is:
The test is to ask ourselves: are we focused on
following the Christ of the gospels:
the Jesus who reached out to the poor,
the friendless,
the sick, the hopeless,
who welcomed the children;
the Jesus who calls us to love even our enemies
to work for peace,
to walk humbly,
to hunger for righteousness
to hunger for justice?

Are we modeling Christ in our work,
our words,
what we say and do, each of us?
Are we setting our newest members
and the young people who follow them
the best example,
showing Christ in how we talk and work
both within the church, and even more important
outside the walls, in the world we’re part of each day?
The great preacher Harry Emerson Fosdick
provided us with excellent advice when he wrote,
“The younger generation does not so much need critics
as it needs examples.”

Are we a welcoming people?
Truly welcoming, or selectively welcoming?
                 
Are we compassionate people?
Truly compassionate or selectively compassionate?
        
Are we gracious and grace-filled to all,
or are we selectively gracious,
just to those with whom we are comfortable?

Charles Raven argued that,
“The ultimate evidence for Christianity
is … the type of personality
it produces in its disciples.”
What kind of disciples do we produce
here within this church?
Loving or judgmental?
Faithful and obedient?
Or “fair-weather” disciples,
quicker with the “not now, I’m busy”
than with the “Here I am Lord, send me”?

I agree with the Reverend Peter Marty
with his observation that
“People have seen enough judgmental Christianity
and heard enough baloney-filled expositions of the faith
to be permanently wary [of any place called ‘church’].”
(Marty, “Betting on a Generous God”)

You and I have a responsibility:
a responsibility to the six young women and men
we welcome today,
a responsibility to one another,
to serve as examples of discipleship modeling Christ,
as together, united in Christ,
united through Christ,
united with Christ
we build a vibrant, spirit-filled, spirit-led Church
that is anything but dull and boring.
                          
It is a responsibility we can try to run away from;
you and I always have that choice.        
Or we can take on that responsibility,
embracing our call eagerly and joyfully.

The words Joshua spoke to the children of Israel
so long ago are still so timeless:
“Choose this day whom you will serve.”
And you remember Joshua’s response:
“As for me, I will serve the Lord.”

AMEN

Sunday, May 01, 2011

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…

The Rev. Dr. Whitworth Ferguson III
Manassas Presbyterian Church
Manassas, Virginia
May 1, 2011

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…
John 20:19-31

The disciples were all gathered together for one last time
before leaving to go their separate ways. 
The first Easter and the joy of the Lord’s Resurrection
still glowed within them,
and they were filled with confidence, assurance,
grace and peace.

Even they were surprised by how different things were
from just a few months before,
when each of them had been so filled with fear,
so afraid to do anything, say anything,
huddling together behind locked doors,
watching, listening,
jumping at every knock on the door.

Now they were energized,
afraid of nothing, no one,
ready to take the Gospel into the world,
ready to share the good news of God’s love with anyone,
with everyone.

At Peter’s suggestion,
they had decided to parcel out the known world,
each of them given an area in much the same way
each of the Twelve Tribes had been given an allocation of land
in Israel more than a thousand years before.
This was their effort to divide up the world
each of them then responsible for taking the Word
out to the area he’d been given.
                                                     
They knew they were each about to take on
an enormous responsibility,
but they were so filled with desire to take the gospel
to the farthest corners of the world,
that they couldn’t wait to set out.
                                                     
They had agreed that the fairest way
to determine who would go where
was simply to draw lots.
They would go in reverse order,
the newest disciple, Matthias would pick first,
Peter would be last.

When it was Thomas’ turn to take his lot,
he was trembling with excitement:
where would God send him?
To what part of the world would he go
to take the glorious, joyous news
of the loving God revealed in the living Christ?
He was willing to scale the highest mountains,
or cross the most unforgiving desert
to share the Gospel with even one person.

He stepped forward and drew his lot,
and then stepped back aghast, horrified--
India.
He had chosen India.
He was to take the gospel to India.
“It’s too far”, he protested to the others.
“I am weak and could not handle the journey.”

But his protests were in vain;
The others were quick to assure him that it was God’s will
that his lot was India.
“Have faith”, they said to him;
“The Lord will see you through!”

Later than evening, when Thomas was alone,
Jesus appeared to him and said,
“Fear not, Thomas;
Go to India and preach the word there,
for my grace is with you.”
But even in the presence of the risen Christ
Thomas protested,
“Wherever you wish to send me, send me,
but elsewhere.
For I am not going to India.”

Do I need to tell you how the story ends?
Of course God prevails!
Of course Thomas goes to India
to preach the good news there.

This is the legend we have of Thomas,
our beloved “Doubting Thomas”.
Legend, Tradition,
Myth more than anything else;
that’s what we have,
mostly from a book called “The Acts of Thomas”,
a strange book written about two hundred years after
Thomas lived, after the Resurrection of our Lord.
It is not considered credible,
yet the legend remains.
Thomas’ apostolic symbol combines a carpenter’s square and a spear:
the carpenter square reflecting the church
he is supposed to have built in India with his own hands,
the spear reflecting his death there as a martyr.
All the stuff of legend,
but it does make a good story.

The Bible tells us almost nothing about this man,
this apostle,
a disciple who followed Jesus so faithfully.
We have of course our lesson,
the lesson which gave rise to the name
that Thomas bears to this day:
“Doubting Thomas”.

Was he truly a doubting Thomas?
A careful reading of the passage shows us that
Thomas was asking for nothing more than
the same opportunity provided the other apostles.
The week before, they’d all seen the risen Christ,
seen him in the flesh.
And, as John tells us,
“Jesus showed them his hands and his side.”
(John 20:20)
Why wouldn’t Thomas want the same opportunity?

John’s gospel records only two other incidents of Thomas speaking.
In chapter eleven, when Jesus informs his disciples
that Lazarus is dead,
Thomas responds strangely, even bizarrely:
“Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
(11:16)
We interpret his response as
obedience to Jesus
along with a profound lack of understanding
of what Jesus was trying to teach him and the others
in raising Lazarus from the dead.

Thomas’ lack of understanding is reinforced in chapter 14
where we find Jesus speaking to his disciples
as they gathered for their final meal together:
 “Do not let your hearts be troubled.
Believe in God, believe also in me.
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places.
If it were not so, would I have told you
that I go to prepare a place for you?
And if I go and prepare a place for you,
I will come again and will take you to myself,
so that where I am, there you may be also.
And you know the way to the place where I am going.”

Thomas is quick to respond to Jesus:
“Lord, we do not know where you are going.
How can we know the way?”
(14:1-4)
Thomas comes across not so much a man filled with doubt
as much as a man who didn’t want to think,
a man who wanted things handed to him,
things made clear, set before him,
so he wouldn’t have to figure things out for himself.
Jesus speaks of going away and Thomas responds,
“Wait a minute Jesus,
you cannot go away 
without first giving us your destination
so we can set our GPS units and find you later.”

Thomas seems like the kind of person
who was more comfortable
in the Monday through Saturday world,
what we call the “real” world,
the world of everyday life,
the world in which we all spend most of our time.

On Sunday we come into a world that seems so different.
We come into a world where we talk about:
a God we cannot see;
a son who died and then was raised from death;
a God in Three Persons who brings life to us
through the person we call the Holy Spirit.
If you were listening carefully
to the words of the Anglican wedding liturgy
that united Prince William and Catherine Middleton
on Friday, you heard the Archbishop of Canterbury
speak not of the Holy Spirit, but of the Holy Ghost.

Ghosts!
That’s the Sunday world we inhabit,
Is it any wonder we struggle to live our faith lives
in the Monday through Saturday world,
the world of facts, realism,
of analysis and proof,
the world of “show me”.

The wonderful irony is that it is Thomas,
who shows us how to live in our faith,
how to live in our belief in the
Monday through Saturday world.
Those simple yet profound words he uttered,
“my Lord and my God” –
those words are the foundation on which we build our lives,
on which we live our lives
not just on Sunday
but Monday through Saturday,
starting each day with our profession of faith
in our Risen Lord,
professing our faith in the one we follow
the one who teaches us that
compassion matters more than economic certainty,
forgiveness matters more than being right,
grace matters more than money,
love matters more than power.

We should not think of him as
Thomas the doubter;
that’s old news, the old life.
He is reborn in the presence of the risen Christ
as Thomas the example,
Thomas the teacher,
the disciple who helps us to see ourselves in him
as we each walk in faith,
each of us with our own struggles.
Thomas the example,
the one who wanted certainty,
shows us that if we ground ourselves each day
in our profession of faith in our risen Lord,
we’ll find life surprisingly,
reassuringly
clear.

 AMEN