Within to be Out

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

May 25, 2014

                                                               Within to be Out                     

John 14:15-17

Phillipi, Amphipolus, Appolinia,

Thessalonika, Borea:

The apostle Paul was constantly on the move,

traveling from one city to another,

moving west along the Aegean coast,

west, and then south,

as he felt the pull of Athens.

Athens: that great city,

the heart of all that was Greece,

the city that reflected the glory that had been Greece.

Vestiges of greatness and glory

were still visible throughout the city:

certainly no place more than the Parthenon –

the magnificent Temple on the Acropolis,

built more than 400 years before the birth of our Lord.

It still stood strong and imposing

with all its Doric columns,

a place of tribute to Greece and its gods.

Greece had its pantheon of gods,

a multitude of gods,

with Zeus and Hera at the top of the godly pyramid,

Zeus and Hera who watched over the world

from Mount Olympus.

How many other Greek gods do we remember

from our high school history classes,

or from watching “Jeopardy”?

Of course we’ll remember the goddess Athena

the goddess of wisdom:

she gave her name to the city.

But there were others as well,

and throughout the city

there were places of worship,

temples dedicated to the many gods.

As Paul wandered the streets of Athens

like a timeless tourist,

he found these temples, and as Luke tells us,

“he was deeply distressed to see the city full of idols.”

(Acts 17:16)

But Paul knew that idol worship

came all too easily to men and women.

It was something the Greeks did;

something the Romans did,

and something even those who followed the Lord God did –

all too often.

There was something about having a statue,

a sculpture – something to see,

something to touch,

a god with a name, a specific purpose:

that made it easier to believe,

easier to trust,

easier to follow.

A God who identifies himself with nothing more

than the words, “I am”;

a God who cannot be seen,

a God who is hidden behind smoke and fire –

that’s a more challenging God to worship.

How much easier it was to pray to a god

whose function was specific:

a god of war, a god of the harvest,

a god of fertility,

a god of grapes and wine.

                          

The Greek people’s long history of

worshiping their many gods

and their city full of idols and temples

didn’t deter Paul from his mission, though.

He came to the city with work to do.

He came to the city because

he knew he’d been sent there,

sent there by God to tell the

good news of Jesus Christ.

And so he got to work,

starting first by going to the synagogue,

talking with his Jewish brothers and sisters about Jesus,

telling them about his own experience,

how he had been trained as a Pharisee;

how he had persecuted the followers of Jesus,

before he himself became a follower.

He didn’t stop with the synagogues, though;

he went to the marketplace and spoke

to any and all who would listen.

He didn’t harangue,

he didn’t shout,

he didn’t judge or condemn.

There was none of the theatrics and threats

that are too much a part of

what is called evangelizing today.

He didn’t fume and fulminate:

“Accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior

or spend all of eternity in torment.”

                          

No, Paul’s approach was informative, simpler,

grounded in Scripture, the gospels,

grounded in grace and love.

He shared the good news.

Of course, many did deride and mock him,

calling him nothing more than a babbler,

a man who went on and on about foreign gods.

But others listened and were intrigued.

and some invited Paul to speak at the Areopagus,

the forum where the council of elders sat for judgment,

the forum where great ideas were

discussed and debated.

                                                              

“May we know what this new teaching is

that you are presenting?”,

they said to him.

“It sounds rather strange to us,

so we would like to know what it means.”

(Acts 17:19)

To our ears, living as we do

in time of so little civil conversation,

so much angry shouting back and forth,

so many verbal grenades lobbed from

one side to the other

and then back again,

what happened in Athens 2,000 years ago

when Paul came to spread the good news of the gospel

all seemed so civil

so calm, so polite.

Paul spoke to his listeners with respect,

with courtesy and civility:

“Athenians, I see how extremely religious

you are in every way.”

Paul’s opening words were words of warmth.

He recognized the culture he was in.

He didn’t condemn it;

rather he honored it, he honored the people.

        

Still he didn’t hold back from speaking boldly.

He told the Athenians of the Lord God,

the one God,

the God who, “made the world and everything in it.”

He didn’t hesitate to tell his listeners

that this God,“who is Lord of heaven and earth,

does not live in shrines made by human hands.”

(Acts 17:24)

He told them that the Lord God was no idol;

not something that could be formed of gold or silver,

wood or stone.

The response to Paul’s words from the people

gathered there in the northwest corner of the Acropolis

wasn’t much different from the response he’d had

in the marketplace:

most would have agreed with those who

called him a “babbler.”

It all sounded so fantastic,

so wild,       

unbelievable.

But some did hear his words,

some were intrigued enough to respond,

“we will hear you again about this.”

How many were swayed?

Luke tells us only a few.

This story we find in the middle of the book of Acts

is a fascinating story,

this story of Paul’s time in Athens.

But it isn’t a story about conversion,

about “bringing people to Christ,”

to use that well-worn phrase.

It is a story about faith,

about trust,

about the Spirit of God at work in the world.

The Spirit of God at work through Paul,

within Paul, guiding him, helping him,

even comforting him to keep him

from feeling discouraged.

This is a story about the Spirit at work,

within and without:

within Paul to help him get the gospel out.

                 

This was the Spirit Jesus spoke of

as he shared his final meal with his disciples,

the Spirit Jesus called the Advocate, the Helper.

This Spirit, promised us all by our Lord,

guided Paul as he went about his ministry.

The Spirit helped him to stay true to Jesus words

we heard in our lesson:

“If you love me you will keep my commandments.”

You remember, of course,

that Jesus’ commandments were two:

Love the Lord God with all your heart,

all your strength,

all your mind,

and all your soul,

and love your neighbor as yourself.

Paul showed his love for God through his evangelism,

sharing the good news,

talking in the synagogues, the marketplace,

the Areopagus.

But he also showed his love for his neighbor

by speaking to his listeners with respect,

treating his listeners with dignity,

civility, and courtesy.

There was no anger in Paul’s words,

no judgment.

Paul’s were not words that condemned or incited,

they were words that welcomed and invited.

Paul took to heart the counsel he’d given the Galatians

when he urged them to live by the fruits of the Spirit:

to live by love and joy,

peace and patience,

kindness and gentleness,

and self-control.

Paul lived by these words,

and we too are called to live by them,

to live by the Spirit,

to let the Spirit guide us,

and help us to live by Jesus’ commandments.

When our lives are marked by enmity, anger,

quarrels, strife,

dissension  -

anything that fails to build community,

we’ve turned from the Spirit,

shut our minds, our hearts,

our ears to the Advocate,

turned away from the gift given us by our Lord,

the gift given us to help us live as Jesus calls us to live.

(Galatians 5:20)

Jesus spoke of the Spirit as he shared

his final meal with his disciples,

his final hours with them.

We can almost hear his voice

as he spoke urgently:

“Live by love;

let the love that is within you

flow freely out of you

for all the world to see;

then the world will know you are my follower.

This won’t be easy;

in fact, it will often be hard.

But I will give you a helper,

I will give you the Advocate

to help you live as I call you to live.”

Do you let the Spirit that is within you

lead you, guide you,

help you let love for God and love for neighbor

flow freely?

                                            
Do you live by love and joy,

peace and patience,

kindness and gentleness,

and self-control?

Or is yours a life marked more by

enmity, anger,

quarrels, strife,

dissension and turmoil?

Only one is a life of the Spirit.

Only one is a life of Christ.

AMEN

What We Don’t See

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

May 4, 2014

What We Don’t See

Luke 24:13-16

“Their eyes were kept from recognizing him”?

Really?

“Their eyes were kept from recognizing him.”

They were kept from recognizing the risen Jesus?

                          

These two men,

a man named Cleopas,

and another man, unnamed,

walking on Easter Sunday, the first Easter Sunday,

walking in sadness, grief,

despondency, dejection,

walking away from Jerusalem,

walking away from all their hopes;

the two of them immersed deep in conversation,

as those filled with grief often are,

reminiscing, reflecting,

wondering what went wrong,

punctuating their words with deep sighs.

Two days earlier they watched as their Master,

their Teacher, their Lord

had been nailed to a cross

and left to die in agony and shame.

Then earlier that very morning

they heard from some of the women

who had gone to the tomb

to finish preparing Jesus’ body for burial,

that the tomb was empty.

The women said that Jesus was risen, alive!

        

The men dismissed the story.

The very idea was absurd.

They knew Jesus was dead.

All those who had followed him,

listened to him,

pinned their hopes on him –

they all knew he was dead, gone.

By late morning on that first Easter Sunday,

the news of the empty tomb

only reinforced what they knew,

what they all knew,

the 11 and all the others:

there was nothing left for them to do

but return home,

return to the vocations they’d left behind,

return to the lives they lived

before they encountered Jesus,

before they followed Jesus.

And so they walked, these two,

and as they walked, Jesus,

the Risen Jesus,

joined them;

talked with them;

taught them from Scripture,

taught them about himself.

Why didn’t they recognize him?

Why couldn’t they recognize him?

The way the passage is written,

we’re inclined to think that Jesus himself

closed their eyes to his identity.

That there was a divine hand,

a divine purpose at work here.

But why?

Why would Jesus close their eyes?

In a later addition to the gospel of Mark,

an addition we don’t believe was part of the original gospel,

the writer tried to explain what might have happened

by saying that Jesus appeared to them,

“in another form ….”

(Mark 16:12-13)

as though Jesus was disguised.

But again, why?

We can understand why Mary might not have

recognized Jesus in the garden,

why she might have mistaken the Risen Jesus

for the gardener:

It was early in the morning,

the sun had not yet risen.

Combine exhaustion, grief, shock,

confusion and the dim light of early morning,

and it would be easy to mistake one person for another,

not to recognize someone you know well.

But these two men were walking the road to Emmaus

in the afternoon,

in the bright full light of day.

Their eyes were closed because they had closed them,

closed their eyes, their minds,

their ears, their hearts,

closed them so that they could see only

what they chose to see.

To them the idea that Jesus might be alive,

risen from the grave,

was unthinkable,

and so, of course,

they would not recognize the risen Jesus,

they couldn’t recognize the risen Jesus.

They’d close their mind to the very possibility,

and in closing their minds,

they’d closed their eyes.

The Reverend Frederick Buechner has written,

“how extraordinary to have eyes like that –

eyes that look out at this world we live in

…and see everything but what matters most.”

(The Secret in the Dark, 254)

We close our eyes;

We close our minds;

we don’t see what we don’t want to see;

we see only what we want to see.

James, the brother of our Lord, confronts us,

holds a mirror in front of us

with an indictment from his letter,

“if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes

comes into your assembly,

and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in,

and if you take notice of the one

wearing the fine clothes

and say, ‘Have a seat here, please’,

while to the one who is poor you say,

‘Stand there’, or, ‘Sit at my feet’,^*

have you not made distinctions among yourselves,

and become judges …?

(James 2:2)

We look at the rich person

and see something more in him or in her

than we do in the poor person.

We don’t see the child of God in the poor person;

We don’t see the reflection of Christ in the poor person.

Our eyes are closed,

our minds are closed,

our hearts are closed.

We are like the rich man Luke tells us about

earlier in his gospel,

who every day walked right by the poor beggar,

the beggar at the rich man’s gate,

the beggar who wanted nothing more than to

“satisfy his hunger with what

fell from the rich man’s table.”

(Luke 16:21)

The rich man walked by, not even seeing the poor man,

because he didn’t want to see him.

Our Wednesday Bible Study group

learned what can happen when we close our eyes

when we visited the Holocaust Museum two weeks ago,

when we saw with our eyes

how the German people closed their eyes

to the brutality, the savagery,

the racism, the bigotry,

the hatred that infected their country,

that closed their eyes, their ears,

their minds, their hearts.

Just in the past two weeks

we’ve had our eyes opened wide

to racism and bigotry

that is still so prevalent in our country,

prevalent because we’ve closed our eyes, our minds

and our hearts to the stain of racism,

the shame of bigotry,

closed our eyes and minds to what we know:

that we’ve all been created equally in the image of God.

It was at the table that the men’s eyes were opened.

As the two travelers and our risen Lord

stopped at day’s end,

stopped to rest and eat,

Luke tells us that our Lord

“took bread, blessed and broke it,

and gave it to them.

Then their eyes were opened

and they recognized him.”

(Luke 24:30-31)

Two men and a stranger to whom they showed hospitality,

a stranger they welcomed,

the three of them at the table,

sharing a meal.

There the men’s eyes were opened.

Our Lord will open our eyes,

yours and mine,

here at this Table.

Here at this Table our Lord will feed us

with the bread of life and give us drink

from the cup of salvation.

Here at this Table, our risen Lord,

our living Lord,

will open our eyes,

open our minds,

open our hearts,

so we will learn to see the world through his eyes,

so we will learn to see what matters most.

                                            

So come, come to the Table;

Come and see.

Come, that your eyes might be opened.

AMEN