Sermon

Sermon

March 26, 2017:  Rev. Anna Fulmer

This Lent, we have been preaching stories that Challenge the Empire. We have heard stories of the Israelites challenging the Egyptian empire, the Roman empire being challenged by the words of John of Patmos and even Jesus himself. Today, David and the empire of Israel are even called into examination. Before this story, David is shown in the rest of II Samuel, how we know him: as the faultless, heroic, kind, and good. Yet here, a woman, Rizpah, calls into question the actions of the king and his empire. This narrative stands at odds with the rest of 2 Samuel. It is an intrusion to the rest of the story. And Rizpah stands as an intrusion to the commonly high regard we have for David.

If you choose to read this story at face value, here’s how the story goes: There is a famine. David prays to God. God says there is blood on the throne—and it’s not David’s fault. It’s conveniently Saul’s fault, the old king. So David goes to the victims, and asks how he can make amends. And they ask for the sacrifice of the sons of Saul. So David hands them over. They are killed. They are hung up for all to see, and then David, takes the bodies down and gives them a proper burial. Famine ends. Read this way, the moral of the story could be that vengeance is legitimate. God desires human sacrifice, the blood of Saul’s sons in order to bless the land. But, somehow, we cannot read it this way, because there’s another character to contend with: Rizpah.

You might wonder, “Doesn’t it say that God tells David “there’s bloodguilt on Saul and his house?” Yes. But beware when God’s will fits too snugly with our will. Beware when God’s will sounds conveniently like the king’s will. Beware any voice that has you focusing too much on another’s guilt and sin instead of your own. How convenient that God is punishing Israel and David for a dead king’s sin. And how ironic that we are just hearing about this bloodguilt, this violence Saul has inflicted. 1st and 2nd Samuel are a pro-Davidic texts. The flaws of Saul are obviously shown throughout these two books. Why isn’t this incident with the Gibeonites mentioned before? And why does David go to the Gibeonites? Why doesn’t the mighty David go directly to God?

This is a business deal. The people who could rise up against David are killed and his empire is secured. If Saul’s sons live, then there is a chance that they might overthrow David. So it’s better to eliminate them. Kill them. Then leave there bodies hanging on crosses as a sign. A sign of dishonor and shame. This is what happens when you oppose the king. This is what happens when you are connected with Saul. Mephibosheth is left because of an oath. Conveniently he is lame and for that society no threat. Yet, we know that David was not all evil. He writes beautiful poetry; he is God’s beloved child; he overthrows other evil powers with a single stone. I think this story shows how easy it is to listen to the voices that say power is claimed through blood and violence—even David falsely worships those voices thinking they are God’s. Even the great King David becomes a victim to power by controlling and intimidating with death sentences and bodies on crosses as a sign.
Enter Rizpah. Rizpah is the mother of two sons of Saul. Rizpah has not had an easy life. She is a second class wife of Saul’s, a concubine. And he is killed. She has no protector. After his death, Rizpah becomes a pawn for political advantage. An army general, Abner takes her as his own as he vies for the thrown. She is his prize, in the spoils of war. She isn’t asked; she is taken. Saul is dead. Next, Abner is killed. Then, her sons are killed. Rizpah is now a widow, with no sons. She has every reason to see herself as a victim. She has no power. And David has all the power. He is king, a “Goliath of evil” (Boesak). Yet somehow she affects change.

Rizpah lays down sackcloth on a rock on top of this mountain where the bodies, the bodies of her boys and the bodies of five other boys are hung up on crosses for all to see. She is alone. There are no men there with her to protect her from what others could do to her as a child-less widow. There are no sisters with her in solidarity. Rizpah is alone with bodies on a mountain. Morning, noon, and night, she defends them. She fights off birds and wild animals. She runs from cross to cross, body to body fending off vultures and animals. She refuses for their bodies to be desecrated. She refuses to accept the royal line that this was a sacrifice that had to be made, that this was what God required. Not through words, but through actions, she proclaims God’s Word. She mourns. She resists.

I am sure some saw Rizpah up on that mountain and thought, “Rizpah, you fool. Standing up there with those bodies isn’t going to bring your children back. Get down from there and get on with your life.” But what they do not realize is that Rizpah is not just saving some dead bodies. Rizpah is trying to “save the soul of Israel” (Boesak). She is saying in her motherly wisdom, “David, come down from your thrown. Come, see. Come look at these children, these children of Israel. This isn’t just some sacrifice. These are people. There are souls. These are children of God. Is this the kind of empire you want to create—with bloodshed, fear, and intimidation?” It is her action; her resistance, her mourning that finally wakes up the king. And so realizing the truth, he gathers the bodies of Saul and Jonathan, his “friend,” and of the other seven sons, and gives them a proper burial. How awful that David did not even see it worthy to give his friend Jonathan a proper burial until Rizpah awakens him. It is not blood, but the acknowledgement of truth that brings reconciliation. And how true, how fitting, that it is only after the truth is acknowledged that God restores the land.

Lent can be a time for fasting—from too much TV, chocolate, and soda. Yet God rejects our easy fasts, those that require nothing of us, but more from others. God rejects our fasts that lift us up and oppress others. And this Lent, we must ask the question, what is the fast that we choose? What if we are called to mourn in resistance, to cry out, to wait, what if Lent is about defending the defenseless, crying out against violence, standing with Rizpah, standing next those crosses. There’s a famine is Israel. But it is not caused by Saul. It is a famine of compassion, of love. Violence begets more violence.

This day remember: sometimes the greatest challenge to a king or an empire is presence. Stubbornness. Mourning. Anger. Grief. To stay when others have left. To mourn when others have stopped remembering. To believe in a fool-hardy mission. As Christians, we cannot leave bodies hanging on crosses. We must clearly state: God calls us to love and reconciliation, not to shed blood. For our Savior was killed on a cross by an Empire that thought it was safer to have him crucified. Here are three ways we can honor God and Rizpah’s sacrifice:

Number One: Get in the way. Rizpah gets in the way. She is not convenient for David; she stands in the way of what he would like to be the truth: that this act was justified. Your body, your presence is more powerful than words.

Number two: Stand with those who mourn. Rizpah is left alone on that mountain. No one joins her in mourning, in resisting. What she does is dangerous. I am sure people were scared of what David might do if they joined her on that mountain. But can you imagine how alone and vulnerable she felt? We are called as Christians to stand and be with those who mourn, those who are on the fringes, those who are vulnerable, even when it is dangerous. Even when it puts us at risk.

Number three: Acknowledge the truth. Rizpah acknowledges the truth. David’s actions are not just. This is not the sacrifice God chooses. She sees the truth. And in seeing the truth and standing with the truth, she helps others to acknowledge the truth: that there are bodies left on crosses, in need of burial, in need of peace, in need of restoration.

Get in the way, stand with those who mourn, and acknowledge the truth. It’s that easy and that hard. What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God? Amen.

Scripture

Scripture Reference:  2 Samuel 21:1-14

Scripture

Now there was a famine in the days of David for three years, year after year; and David inquired of the Lord. The Lord said, “There is bloodguilt on Saul and on his house, because he put the Gibeonites to death.” So the king called the Gibeonites and spoke to them. David said to the Gibeonites, “What shall I do for you? How shall I make expiation (or reparations), that you may bless the heritage of the Lord?” The Gibeonites said to him, “It is not a matter of silver or gold between us and Saul of his house; neither is it for us to put anyone to death in Israel.” He said, “What do you say that I should do for you?” They said to the king, “The man who consumed us and planned to destroy us, so that we should have no place in all the territory of Israel—let seven of his sons be handed over to us, and we will impale them before the Lord at Gibeon on the mountain of the Lord.” The king said, I will hand them over.” But the king spared Mephibosheth (who happened to be lame and not a threat in that society to the throne of Israel), the son of Saul’s son Jonathan, because of the oath of Lord that was between them, between David and Jonathan, son of Saul. The king took the two sons of Rizpah, daughter of Aiah whom she bore to Saul, Armoni, and Mephibosheth; and the five sons of Merab daughter of Saul, whom she bore to Adriel son of Barzillai the Meholathite; he gave them into the hands of the Gibeonites, and they impaled them on the mountain before the Lord. The seven of them perished together. They were put to death in the first days of the harvest, at the beginning of the barley harvest.

Then Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth and spread it on a rock for herself, from the beginning of harvest until rain fell on them from the heavens; she did not allow the birds of the air to come down on the bodies by day, or the wild animals by night. When David was told what Rizpah, daughter of Aiah the concubine of Saul had done, David went and took the bones of Saul and the bones of his son Jonathan. He brought up from there the bones of Saul and the bones of his son Jonathan; and they gathered the bones of those who had been impaled. They buried the bones of Saul and of his son Jonathan in the land of Benjamin in Zela, in the tomb of his father Kish; they did all that the king commanded. After that, God heeded supplications for the land.

This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Sermon

March 05, 2017:   Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Sermon

First Sunday of Lent

This week we begin the season of Lent. The 40 day journey toward the most important events in the Christian faith: Jesus’ death on the cross and his resurrection three days later. Each year, Christians around the world, from different languages and backgrounds, set aside these 40 days of Lent as an intentional time of preparation through sacrifice, prayer, and introspection. This year, at Spring Hill Presbyterian, our season of Lent will focus on who we are and how we are called to live as people of faith in resistance to the empires of the world. We live surrounded by empires of all kinds. Empires of greed and power. Empires of oppression and injustice. Empires of fear and anxiety. Empires of brokenness and sinfulness. Empires of death. An empire tries to rule our life. To take over and take control. To stake a claim on who we are and how our lives matter (or do not matter). The empires of this world operate in ways both seen and unseen. We are constantly surround by them. We wake up each day participating in their systems and values, often without even realizing it.

This week we begin the season of Lent. The 40 day journey toward the most important events in the Christian faith: Jesus’ death on the cross and his resurrection three days later. Each year, Christians around the world, from different languages and backgrounds, set aside these 40 days of Lent as an intentional time of preparation through sacrifice, prayer, and introspection. This year, at Spring Hill Presbyterian, our season of Lent will focus on who we are and how we are called to live as people of faith in resistance to the empires of the world. We live surrounded by empires of all kinds. Empires of greed and power. Empires of oppression and injustice. Empires of fear and anxiety. Empires of brokenness and sinfulness. Empires of death. An empire tries to rule our life. To take over and take control. To stake a claim on who we are and how our lives matter (or do not matter). The empires of this world operate in ways both seen and unseen. We are constantly surround by them. We wake up each day participating in their systems and values, often without even realizing it.

Standing against the empires of the world is another entity, another power, another source of identity and authority—the Kingdom of God. Throughout the entirety of scripture from the early pages of the book of Genesis through the final scenes in the book of Revelation, the witness of the Bible is filled with stories of people of God resisting the empires of the world. People of faith casting their allegiance with the God who’s rule is shown not through greed and violence and oppression, but through the gift of life and sacrificial love. Jesus’s own death (at the hands of the Roman empire) and his triumphal resurrection on Easter are the ultimate actions of resistance to the empires of the world—conquering even the rule of death itself. Setting us free from any other power that would claim to own us.

And yet, we live in a world where we do not, cannot yet see this final victory. We live in a world where broken powers still have power. Where fear and cruelty still reign. And so, as we prepare to honor Christ’s resurrection, during this season of Lent it is fitting that we spend some honest time talking about empires and acts of resistance.

The ancient Hebrew people knew all about empires. In their early history they were forced into slavery at the hands of the first great super power of the ancient world: the Egyptian Empire. They began as welcomed guests, who crossed Egypt’s boarders in search of food and survival during a severe famine. But in time that luring promise of food grew bitter. After a few generations, these immigrant Hebrews were forced into slavery by the empire. Forced to serve. Forced to toil. Forced from their ways of life and their practice of faith. Forced to build the great cities of the empire and monuments to its leaders. Forced to work day after day with no rest or Sabbath. The empire claimed their labor, but it also claimed their live, the identity, their futures. When the enslaved people grew to large in number the empire instituted policies of genocide to lower their population. The empire turned a deaf ear to the cries of suffering…but their God heard them. Their God, YHWH, the God of their ancestors heard their laments, their cries, the songs of sorrow. And their God, our God, moved swiftly to free this people from enslavement to the empire.

God sent a leader, named Moses, an exile who had fled for his own freedom—God sent him back into the heart of the empire to speak God’s truth, and to reveal God’s kingdom in its full force. Through signs and wonders too marvelous to wrap our heads around, God convinced the slaves that the power of the empire could not stand. Finally, when the time was right, God told the Hebrews to get ready…to eat their last meal as slaves of empire, and it eat it with their walking shoes on and the walking sticks in their hands. To eat their last meal in Egypt as fast as they could, because that very night God was going to pass through the empire and avenge the wrongs that they had suffered, and then they would be set free for their journey to freedom.

And that’s just what happened. When the morning light dawned, the powers of the empire had been broken, and in wrath and anger and defeat, the empire let the slaves go free. They wandered…boy did they wander. For 40 years they wandered in the wilderness following a path that they did not chart until…finally, they arrived at edge of their new homeland. On the other side of the Jordan River was their “Promised Land.” When I tread the verge of Jordan, bid my anxious fears subside.

And when they these wandering, homeless, escaped slaves finally set foot on the solid ground of freedom they gave thanks. In an act of faithful resistance they remembered. They remembered all that God had done. They remembered that last meal, the rushed and hurried final meal of slavery. They remembered the bitter taste of the empire, but this time they ate the meal as free people, with a home of their own. They ate that Passover meal every single year for thousands of years as a reminder that their God, our God, is the God of freedom, the God of justice, the God of promise, the God who hears our cries and delivers us from slavery to the death-dealing empires of the world.

This story of Moses and the Hebrews freed from slavery into the Promised Land of freedom is a powerful account of resistance—faithful resistance by following God’s path, even when we don’t know where it is heading. Through the ages this story has inspired many other generations of faithful resistors. In our own country, not that many generations ago, the empires of the world enslaved men and women because of the color of their skin. The empire of King Cotton was hungry and ravenous and it developed an appetite for destroying the hopes and dreams of an entire race. Inspired by the stories of the ancient Hebrews, some resisted. Some fled to their own freedom through the waters and wilderness into a different Promised Lan. Some, like the famous Harriet Tubman (who was nicknamed “Moses”) travelled back into the heart of the empire to guide countless enslaved children of God along hidden paths to freedom on the Underground Railroad.

I just finished reading the book called, The Underground Railroad. It was last year’s National Book of the Year. It’s a fictional and highly imaginative account of an escaped slave. The atrocities it describes are hard to read they are so gruesome. But there is one part, one word that I can’t get out of my head. There is a character in the book who is a slave catcher—who makes his living by capturing escaped slaves and returning them to their masters for a price. Wherever this slave catcher is speaking about his prey, about African Americans, he never uses their name. He never even uses the pronouns “he” or “she.” He only refers to them as “it.” It. A thing. An object. Devoid of humanity or identity. An “it” to be caught and sold.

That’s what the empires of the world seek to do—to remove our humanity, our identity, our individuality. To reduce us to objects, commodities, consumers, statistics to be used as the empire needs.

Our lives today are still, in so many ways, ruled over by the empires of the world. Empires that seek to claim us and enslave us. Empires of greed and scarcity (that force us to work ourselves to and others death). Empires of fear and sin (that divide us from one another and from our God). Empires of power and violence (that do not think twice about the suffering and death that they deal out).

Where do you see the forces of the empires at work in your life? What is it that seeks to rule you? What takes over beyond your control? To what are you enslaved? To Anger? To Bitterness? To Addiction? To Prejudice? To Fear—fear of someone else? Fear of not having enough? Fear of not being enough? Fear of losing someone you love? Fear of Death itself? To what are you enslaved in your life?

And what would it look like to be set free? What would it mean to walk away from this slavery? To flee in escape from these forces in our lives? Trusting that God can do what we cannot do on our own, what would it mean to be set free and called out of the empire’s clutching grasp?

Friends, the good news of the gospel is that we do not belong to these empires of the world. We belong, body and soul, in life and in death, to our loving, freeing, God, who calls us out of the bonds of slavery. Our ultimate freedom from the power of sin and death has already been won for us. The Promised Land of grace is already a homeland for each of us.

So, in theses 40 days of preparation for Easter, in this season of Lent, I invite you to journey through the wilderness—to wander and to wonder, following God’s path, God’s plan, God’s call to the Promised Land. Let’s put on our walking shoes and travel together into the freedom made real for us in Jesus Christ, our crucified and risen Lord! To God alone be the glory.

Scripture

Exodus 12

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household… This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the Passover of the Lord.

This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.

When you come to the land that the Lord will give you, as he has promised, you shall keep this observance. And when your children ask you, “What do you mean by this observance?” you shall say, “It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, for he passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt, when he struck down the Egyptians but spared our houses.” ’ And the people bowed down and worshipped.

The Israelites went and did just as the Lord had commanded Moses and Aaron.

Sermon

February 19, 2017  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Integrity. Do you know what that word means? Some would say integrity means being honest. Telling the truth. Some have said that integrity is seen in how you act when no one is watching. But literally, the word in integrity means being whole. Undivided. Complete. It comes from the same root as the word integer in mathematics. An integer is a whole number. A complete number like 1, 2, 3 or 4. Not a part or fraction like ½ or 3.14. Having integrity means being whole. Undivided.

This story we just read is all about integrity, Jesus’ integrity. For the last three chapters, Jesus has been preaching a long sermon, the Sermon on the Mount, that is all about how to live as his followers. It’s full of radical teachings about the kingdom of God. Like lifting us the poor, the hungry, the thirty, the persecuted as those who are blessed by God. He calls his followers to radical ways of living like loving our enemies, like turning the other cheek, like praying for those who persecute us. He invites his audience to reimagine what they always thought about who God is and how God is at work in the world.

Now, as soon as he finishes the sermon, Jesus comes down from the mountain and is immediately approached by someone who is suffering. And what does Jesus do? He heals the man who is sick. He acts in a way that shows us what the kingdom of God looks like in our world. He heals the man who is sick. Jesus’ words, his many many words from that long sermon up on the mountain, go hand in hand with his actions down on the level ground of reality. They are a whole, not divided. What he says is what he does. There is a holy integrity at work here as Jesus reveals radical kingdom living is on full display.

The man’s disease, leprosy, carried not only a painful physical effects but also social and religions consequences as well. Lepers were exiled from their families and communities. Considered untouchable by society and unclean by their faith. Cast out and left alone to die. Everyone was so worried about interacting with them because of fear that they might be contagious.

Lest we think this was just some ancient superstitious practice, let us remember how we still reaction to epidemics today. As recent as a few decades ago, we still sent people with leprosy away to live in leper colonies. Last summer, Dr. Dick Otts, a physician in town and brother of some of our church members came to our summer Sunday School class to share his experience from med school of working with a leper colony down the road in Louisiana.

There has always been a great fear of those who suffer and a desire to keep them at a distance.

So, when this man suffering from leprosy comes to Jesus, he is committing a major social and religious taboo. He should not dare to approach Jesus and the crowd. He should stay away. Stay back. Keep his distance. He should know better. But he comes anyway, and he calls Jesus “Lord”—something that only disciples do. And he begs for healing.

No one would have held it against Jesus if he walked past this guy. Sure we want to live nice religious lives when we come down the mountain…good lives…godly lives. But that doesn’t mean we have to help everyone who asks for help, does it? (Jesus’ sermon actually addressed that question too.) I mean, this guy could be contagious, and he is certainly pushy. No, Jesus, just walk on by.

But Jesus stops. He hears him. He heals him with his words. And then, the most scandalous part of the story, Jesus reaches out and touches him with his hands. He touches the lowest of the lows—the worst of the worst. He crosses a boundary that should not be crossed. The legal, social religious, and medical authorities were all clear on this matter. No touching! He’s contagious.

Sometimes, faithful integrity means crossing boundaries, so that healing can occur.

You know when a hurricane comes toward the coast and its power is so much stronger than what our natural systems are used to? With wind gusts and storm surges and flooding so strong that sometimes it can make rivers even flow in reverse order away from the sea? That’s exactly what’s happening in this story! The normal worldly flow of uncleanliness goes one way. You stay away from the unclean, the outcast, the poor, the one who is different, because they are contagious and you might catch their condition. But rather than being made unclean from his contact with a leper, it is actually Jesus’ holiness and righteousness that causes the sick and outcast man to be healed, restored, and made whole. God’s power, God’s kingdom, God’s presence in Christ makes the ways of the world flow in reverse order.
What are the things that we’re afraid to touch today? Who are the people we’re afraid to touch? Who are we afraid to spend time with? Afraid to listen to? Afraid of what it might mean if they moved into our neighborhood? Who are the untouchables? Who are the ones we would be embarrassed to be seen with because of what others might think?

Central Presbyterian Church is in downtown Atlanta, right across the street from the Georgia state capital. A few years ago, they hosted their annual Ash Wednesday service at noon so that state legislators could worship on their lunch break. That year, though, their pastor had also invited men who were staying at the church’s homeless shelter to come and worship as well. Folks of all kinds filed in for this midday service that began the season of Lent. A friend of mine was there and she wrote about what she saw happening. It came time near the end to place ashes on the foreheads of those in attendance. Everyone was invited to come forward, and the pastor put ashes on the head of the first person in line. Then he handed the container of ashes to this person who turned around and did the same for the fellow behind him. One by one, worshippers received the sign of a cross on their foreheads and then then placed that same sign on the person standing behind them. As my friend who was there in worship says, “That’s when it happened. A man who spends his days on the streets took an already grimy thumb and covered it with ash. Then he took it an make the sign of the cross on the forehead of one of Georgia’s [most prominent elected officials]. ‘Remember that you are dust,” he said, “and to dust you shall return.’ One with no power spoke truth to the one with all the power: You and I both will die. You and I have both been claimed by God in baptism. You and I both rely—body, mind, and soul—on nothing but the grace of God. And it happened not once, but over and over again, hand to head, ash to skin, as the greatest and the least of these acknowledged their common humanity and dependence on God.” [1] Rich and poor. Liberal and conservative. Hungry and full. Dirty and clean.

Sometimes, faithful integrity means crossing boundaries so that healing can occur.

I’ve read this story many times throughout the years and it never really jumped out to me as too important. We’re always invited to find ourselves in the story, and I guess I’d always thought about myself and most of the rest of us as the silent disciples here. Those in the crowd who heard the sermon and are following Jesus down the mountain. This interaction between Jesus and the leper is something that we just observe from a distance.

Boy was I wrong. Because the truth is we are in this story, but standing in a different place. We are the leper. We, all of us, all of humanity, are the sick man. We are sick with sins of division and discord, animosity and cruelty…and it is contagious. It spreads like wildfire. Just look around. Look around our country, our world today. We are a broken and divided people. We are not whole. Each and every one of us is sick, but we refuse to associate with others in their own sickness. We don’t want to be anywhere near “those people.” I don’t know about you, but many days with the brokenness of the world on full display, it is enough to make me feel depressed, isolated, lonely, and fearful. We are sick, and we aren’t getting any better on our own. Where are we in the story? We are the exiled, the outcast, the sick man without a community…without a chance.

And yet, it is stories like this one that give me hope. Real hope. Not hope in us or what we can don, but hope beyond ourselves. Hope beyond our human resources. Hope in the God of the gospel who heals and transforms. Hope in the love of Christ that reaches across all boundaries in transformative, restorative, life-changing ways. Hope in the boundary-crossing ministry of the Church, the body of Christ, called to touch and welcome the untouchable and the outcast. Hope that we might be made whole as we work to restore what is divided. Hope in the grace-filled waters of baptism that are so powerful they make the powers of this world flow in reverse order. Hope that we are and will be made whole. Made whole. Whole people. People of integrity.

Sometimes, faithful integrity means crossing boundaries so that healing can occur.

Friends, the good news of the Gospel, the good news of these waters, the good news of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection is that God is already at work crossing all boundaries and making us whole. In grateful response, let us participate in this kingdom work with lives of boundary-crossing faithful integrity.

To God alone be the glory.

[1] Kim Long, The Worshipping Body, 43.

Scripture

Matthew 8:1-4

When Jesus^* had come down from the mountain, great crowds followed him; ²and there was a leper^* who came to him and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean.’ ³He stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ Immediately his leprosy^* was cleansed. ⁴Then Jesus said to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.

Sermon

February 12, 2017  Reverend Dr. Buz Wilcoxon
How strange and different Jesus’ words sound from our world today. He talks about asking, searching, and knocking. In the original Greek language of the gospel, these verbs are used in a way that implies continuous repeated activity over a long period of time. “Keep on asking and it will be given you; keep on seeking and you will find; keep on knocking and it will be opened to you.” But of course that’s not how our fast paced instant access world works. Is it? We don’t keep on asking for what we want. We just make it happen.

Think of a company like Amazon, whose entire premise as a business is to get you whatever you want as fast as possible. All you have to do is ask…and pay. And to help you ask even quicker they’ve developed a new device called the Amazon Echo. Some of you may have one of these or if you don’t you’ve probably seen commercials for it on T.V. It’s a small computer stand with a microphone and speakers that links to your Amazon account. The little robot inside the machine is named Alexa. If you know about Siri, who lives inside your iPhone, Alexa is like Siri’s cousin who is a tad smarter but afraid to leave the house. It’s all voice activated, so if you want something all you have to do is say, “Alexa, order me a pizza.” “Alexa, send flowers to my wife for Valentines.” “Alexa, rent a movie for me to watch tonight.” Ask and it shall be give unto you.

Last year, there was a little girl in who Texas was playing with her family’s device and said, “Alexa, order me a doll house.” To her parents’ surprise a package with a doll house appeared on their front porch thanks to next-day delivery. People thought it was funny, and so a local T.V. station picked up the story and aired on the evening news. When the news anchor repeated the girl’s words, “Alexa, order me a doll house” suddenly all throughout the area, thousands of Amazon Echo devices activated and thousands of doll houses were instantly ordered. The moral of the story is…be careful with your security settings. We are so connected to instant results that we don’t know wat to do with ourselves. The world we live in is not one that is used to continuous, repetitive, long-term asking.

Jesus says, “search, and you will find.” Spend your life seeking for something worth seeking. But in our age of Google searches and instant information, we get bored with some that we have to really search for. No, we want to find things quickly. A few months ago, the Nintendo company forever changed the ways that electronic games interact with the real world when they released the game, Pokémon Go. In this game, players have to walk around in the real world to locations in their community looking for pretend creatures. When you see one on your phone screen you can interact with it. When the game first came out you saw people playing it everywhere. People wandering around (sometimes in the middle of the street) looking down on their phones trying to catch these imaginary creatures. Search and you will find.

It was around that time that I was leaving church one Monday afternoon, and I saw a man wandering around in our big grassy field. He was walking around with his head down looking at a device in his hand. I assumed, of course that he was playing Pokémon Go. We a glad for our property can be a safe and welcoming place for our neighbors, so I figured I’d just drive on by and leave him alone. But then, I saw him stop in one spot. He pulled out a hammer and started pounding a metal spike into the ground. Hold on now! I don’t know how this game is played, but I’m pretty sure that’s not part of it. So, I got out of the car and started walking toward him. His head was down again and he was walking to another spot on the field, again, staring down at a device in his hand. I got close to him just as he was about to pound another spike into the ground, and I yelled, “Excuse me sir. Can I help you?” As soon as he looked up, I recognized his face. It was our Scoutmaster for the Boy Scout Troop. The device in his hand wasn’t a smart phone; it was a compass. He wasn’t playing a video game; he was setting coordinates on the field for that night’s scout program, where the troop was going to learn about navigation by reading compasses and using maps. Real life skills for actual searching in the real world. That’s not what we’re used to seeing. Not today.

No, when Jesus talks about seeking for something constantly, over the course of your entire lifetime, that sounds awfully strange and foreign to our modern ears. We aren’t used to sustained searches. We don’t want to have to keep asking, to keep searching, to keep knocking for something that is hidden and holy. When one day’s headlines are enough to make us outraged but are quickly forgotten tomorrow, when relationships and moral values that take decades to cultivate are tossed aside because something new is more tempting, when we have no time to listen to voices we disagree with and no patience for real conversations that take us into uncomfortable territories where our own ideas and prejudices might be challenged, we know that we live in a world that simply isn’t interested in what Jesus is talking about. Because Jesus is talking about seeking the kingdom of God.

The kingdom of God is vastly different than the empires of the world in which live. In the kingdom of God, power is show in sacrifice, suffering, and weakness. In the kingdom of God, peace is maintained through vulnerability and radical hospitality. In the kingdom of God, reconciliation bridges all divisions. In the kingdom of God, Christ alone is lord and king, and all of us, everyone one us, are simultaneously the lowliest of servants and honored members of the royal family.

The kingdom of God, the reign of God, is not a physical place. It’s not a kingdom that his hidden somewhere on a high mountain or in a deep dense jungle. No, it is right in front of us, all around us, but hidden because we don’t know how to look for it. It is hidden because in our sin and selfishness we would rather not ask about its ways of sacrifice. In our brokenness and arrogance we abandon the search for it. In our enslavement to our own desires we forget to knock on its doors. In our self-righteousness we refuse to enter into its narrow gates of grace and love. The kingdom of God, the reign of God, is already made real for us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, but we do not ask, or seek, or knock for it.

There is an old old story about a medieval village that was in an uproar. Its citizen were sharpening their pitchforks and lightly their torches (the way they used to do back in the day). An angry voice leading the crowd shouted “We must put God back in our country.” As the mob followed down the road they echoed in reply: “We must put God back in our country!” A lonely monk was on the road passing by in the other direction when he saw and heard the angry mob. He stopped and spoke softly to them saying, “Children, do you not know that God has never left your country or your lives. It is not your task to put God anywhere. Merely open your eyes to see his presence that already all around you.”

Jesus says, “Seek first the kingdom of heaven.” Ask. Search. Knock. Enter. How do we do this? How do we open our eyes, our ears, our hearts, and our minds to God’s kingdom? How do we live as citizens of a different kind of world in which our own selfish desires are not in complete control? One clue lies in the verbs that Jesus uses to describe this task: Ask. Search. Knock. Ask for God’s kingdom, he says. That is ask in the midst of your prayers. Not the way that we ask Siri or Alexa. Ask God in petition to see the ways of God’s kingdom. Ask in prayer.

Then search for God’s kingdom. Search with your mind. With your study. Don’t lean on what you already know, but seek to learn more. Don’t just wade in the kiddy pool of knowledge, delve deep into the depths of wisdom and wonder.
And finally, knock at the door. Physically knock. Get your body moving and active. Move to the places of power and of poverty. Move to the doors that need to be opened and get to work, knocking.

Ask. Search. Knock. As a wise scholar once said, “Jesus’ words [here] suggest that prayer, thought, and work are inextricably bound together—if we are to cooperate with God… We must ask and we must seek and we must knock, all at the same time. It will not do much good, for example, to pray (i.e., ask) for a peaceful world, if we are not willing to give hard and serious thought to how this may be accomplished, and if we are not willing to knock (i.e., work) that doors may be opened and obstacle removed.”

Friends, Jesus calls us to pray, study, and work for the kingdom of God in the world. He gives us a brief glimpse of what such a way of life looks like. It may sound awfully simple in theory, but in practice, it takes a lifetime of seeking to actually live out. He says, “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you.” In everything. The golden rule. Not just some of the time. Not just when we feel like it. Not just for people that we like or want to impress. No, in everything. In everything, do unto other…all others whoever they are, what you would have them do unto you. In everything, for everyone. That’s what living in the kingdom of God looks like. So, friends, let’s grab our compasses, and get to work seeking for the kingdom! To God along be the glory.

“Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our standpoint. Therefore we must be saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.”
-Reinhold Niebuhr, The Irony of American History, 63.

http://fortune.com/2017/01/09/amazon-echo-alexa-dollhouse/
Ernest Trice Thompson, The Sermon on the Mount and Its Meaning for Today, 119.

Scripture

Matthew 6:33, 7:7-13

“But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well…

“Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. ⁸For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. ⁹Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? ¹⁰Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? ¹¹If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

12””In“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets. 13Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy^* that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it.”

Sermon

January 29, 2017; Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Sermon Text
You can’t escape the question these days. The news over these last few days, these last few weeks forces us to ask: Who do we consider our enemy? And how are we called to treat them? Jesus answers that question loud and clear in this text. He tells us quite simply: “Be perfect.” Is that all we have to do? “Be perfect?” We’ll that doesn’t seem that hard does it? The Boy Scouts say, “Be prepared.” The Army says, “Be all that you can be.” Trying to sell us a few more of his books, Joel Olsteen says, “Be comfortable with who you are.” But not Jesus? No, Jesus say, “Be Perfect.” That’s all there is to is. Of course, we all fail, every one of us, every day, probably every hour. We can’t be perfect! What Jesus is asking of us seems impossible. So what are we supposed to do with this kind of scripture?

Well, first let’s slow down a bit and take a look at what Jesus is actually saying. He begins by quoting a passage from the Old Testament, “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” It comes from the book of Exodus, but this rule is a pretty universal rule found in nearly every culture throughout human history. Let the punishment fit the crime: You hit me, I hit you back. You steal from me, I steal from you. You attack my country, we attack you back. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” Historians call this the Lex Talionis, the Law of the Talon. Whether its kids on the playground or gang violence in the streets or nuclear proliferation around the world, the law stays the same: fight fire with fire, fight hate with hate, violence with violence. This is who we are as people. This is the bloody story of humanity. It’s what fills our newsfeeds each day. It’s the mantra that we tell ourselves about what we must do to make things right. It’s called the “myth of redemptive violence.” The only way to combat a threat is to threaten right back.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” But instead, Jesus calls us to something different. He offers us examples of peaceful, nonviolent resistance. When someone tries to shame you with a slap, turn the other cheek. When, a debtor holds power over you to take your coat, give them the clothes off your back. When a Roman soldier forces you to carry their gear for a mile, carry it a second mile to shame them. Jesus is talking about symbolic actions taken by people who are being crushed by the powers of the world. Symbolic actions that empower the oppressed with the power of peace.

You are not a victim, you are an agent, empowered with the tools of love. These actions are the kind of non-violent resistance that in recent decades Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. employed and advocated for as the only real way to make change in society. Neither passive victimhood on the one hand nor the violence of resorting to an “eye for an eye” on the other hand. Following Christ’s life and teachings, King offered a third way: nonviolent acts of resistance to evil. King proclaimed, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
Those are the kind of actions that Jesus is talking about…at first. But then he goes even deeper, deeper than the actions we take, all the way down to the inner workings of our hearts. He says we are to love our enemies. Love our enemies with the same love that we feel toward neighbors. That’s not possible, though is it? Because as soon as we break the cycle and turn our hearts from hate to love of an enemy, then they are no longer and enemy. You can’t love someone and still see them as your enemy, can you? Maybe that’s precisely the point.

When Jesus compels his followers to love their enemies as their neighbors, his original audience would have heard that in a very political way. For the Jewish people of Israel, the enemy was clearly the Roman Empire, and their neighbors were fellow Jews. When Jesus says love your enemy, he’s talking about loving the very people who invaded and conquered your homeland. The people who attacked, imprisoned, and executed your friends and family. The people who still occupy your country with their military force. That’s who we’re supposed to love as if they were one of our closest neighbors? Jesus, we simply can’t do that. It’s too hard.

Loving not just a person, but a whole group of people who hate us, despise us, and want to attack us, that’s hard work. It’s risky—maybe even life-threatening to treat an enemy as a loved one. That seems like impossible work. It’s much easier to hate our enemies back. To return darkness for darkness. An eye for an eye. It’s much easier to turn our backs on those who are different than ourselves. It’s much easier to let fear take control, to let fear guide our policies as a nation, to let fear keep us from moving into certain neighborhoods, to let fear cause us to cross over to the other side of the street rather than risk walking past someone who is different. It’s much easier to let the lines of communication stay broken and refuse to speak to those who have offended us. It’s much easier to play by the same old rules of humanity, to buy into the myth of redemptive violence. But Jesus says, “love your enemies.” You can’t love someone if your refuse to welcome them, refuse to look them in the eye, refuse to listen. Jesus says, “love your enemies” and “be perfect.” But honestly, most days, we just aren’t up to the task, are we?

Many of you already know this story, you were here when it happened a decade ago. The story of Stan Chassin and Tommy Tarrants, or as some have called it, “The Miracle at Spring Hill Presbyterian Church.” It happened before I was here, and before some of you were here as well, but some of you remember. Stan Chassin and Tommy Tarrants had grown up in Mobile, both attended Murphy High School in the 1960’s. Stan was Jewish, and Tommy was a racist young man who had bought into the racial rhetoric of fear, learning to hate Jews, Black people, anyone who didn’t look like himself, who came from a different country or culture or religion. One day at school, Tommy grabbed Stan by the throat, called him a racial slur and said that if he ever saw him again, he would kill him. Tommy later let that fear and hate grow. He went on to join the Ku Klux Klan, and he was arrested after attempting to bomb the home of a Jewish man in Mississippi. In his jail cell, Tommy began to read the Bible. I can just imagine him reading the very passage from Sermon on the Mount about radical love that transforms enemies into neighbors.

Tommy became a changed man. He accepted Jesus as his savior. He devoted himself to spreading the good news of God’s love. Then, one night, he came to speak at this church, in our Fellowship Hall, to tell his story of the conversion of a Klansman. And unbeknownst to anyone, his old classmate Stan was in the audience. Stan had heard that Tommy was coming to town and he wanted to see for himself if there was any truth to this change in him. Stan had been at his synagogue weeks before and in the midst of prayer heard God speaking to him, telling him to forgive Tommy. So, after the talk, it was time for questions from the audience, and Stan stood up and said, “It’s hard facing you.” He told everyone in the crowd about how Tommy had bullied him and threatened to kill him decades ago. There was a pause, and a few people worried that Stan might be here to take revenge against his old enemy. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” But instead, [he said, “I’m here to ask your forgiveness for hating you for all these years.”

The one who had been on the receiving end of violence was giving and asking for grace and forgiveness.] Stan walked forward, went to shake Tommy’s hand, and the two men embraced. That’s what God’s perfect love looks like. God’s perfect love that can transform enemies into neighbors, years of hate and fear into a welcome embrace.
When Jesus tells us to be perfect, he doesn’t mean we can never make a single mistake.

That’s impossible. No, Jesus says, “Be perfect as you Father in heaven is perfect.” It’s not about us, but about who God is. It all hinges on who we believe God to be. Jesus is saying that if you believe you are a child of God, then you are a child of the one whose love is perfect. So, as one in God’s family, show that perfect love. Not your own perfect actions, but God’s perfect love (that shines through even with all our imperfections). Show God’s perfect love to all God’s children, even enemies—to all God’s children, even schoolyard bullies and horrible bosses, to all God’s children, even refugees and immigrants, to all God’s children even political opponents and those you disagree with. Show God’s love to all God’s children, even the neighbor you can’t stand, or the friend who betrayed you, or the family member you aren’t speaking to, or the stranger who was rude to you, or the person who should know better.

Show God’s love to all God’s children, even to enemies, not because of who they are…because they aren’t perfect; not because of who you are…because you aren’t perfect. Show God’s love (as risky as it may be) because of who God is, the one who is perfect, whose perfect love has been to show to us in the gift of his own son. He showed God’s love his enemies, he loved them to death. When we tried with all our might to use all the weapons we had against him, Christ did not return evil for evil. He did not fight back, but prayed for us. On the cross he broke the cycle of hate, he shattered the myth of redemptive violence, and in the end, he was victorious against even the enemy of death itself.

Jesus says, “Be perfect” because God is perfect. We know we aren’t up for the task. He knows it too. Being perfect isn’t something we can do…but it is something God can do, in us, through us, in spite of us. God can use us to make his perfect love know in the world. God can us, even us to transform enemies into neighbors…will we let him? As children of God, will we let him use our lives to break the cycles of fear, to break the patterns of hatred, to break the power of violence? Will we let him? Will we extend the hand, will we welcome the stranger and the outcast, the poor and the oppressed? Will we pick up the phone and make that call we’ve been avoiding to mend a broken relationship? Will we forgive as we have been forgiven? Will we let God’s perfect love work in us to transform the world?
To God alone be the glory.

Benediction
One of our church members, Bill Layfield, has a saying that he often uses in his work with AA groups: “I can’t. God can. I think I’ll let him.” Jesus calls us to be perfect. We can’t. But God can. I hope we’ll let him—let his perfect love shine through us, even amidst all our imperfections.

[1] AL.com article describing the event: https://blog.al.com/pr/2008/01/forgive_our_tresspasses.html [The bracketed portion is another detail of the story that was shared with me after the sermon.]

Scripture

Matthew 5:38-48
“You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you. You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax-collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Sermon

January 22, 2017:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Introduction

This morning we continue our sermon series on passages from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount—this handbook for living as disciples, citizens of the Kingdom of God in the real world. Our passage today is the beginning of a large portion of the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus follows a pattern of quoting laws from the Old Testament, offering a new and deeper interpretation of the law, and then providing case studies to show the kind of ethical behavior he’s talking about. He begins each teaching with the phrase, “You have heard that it was said…” That is, you know what the Old Testament law requires. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not murder’… ‘You shall not commit adultery’ … You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’” But then, in each case Jesus assumes a divine authority reserved for God alone when he adds, “But I say to you…” He adds further, more radical rules like not even being angry with one another. Like turning the other check, walking the second mile. Like loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you.

SERMON:

Jesus better watch out, because this kind of behavior could get him in real trouble.  These new laws or teachings are all about the radical, self-sacrificial way of life that we are called to lead as disciples, followers of a radical self-sacrificial Lord. But these teachings aren’t just about us, they are also reveal to us something about who Jesus is and how his life and ministry is to be understood in relation to the Old Testament stories and teachings of the people of Israel.

Before he launches into these laws, Jesus begins by acknowledging his relationship with the ancient Hebrew tradition. He refers to it as the Law and the Prophets. It’s important to know that the phrase “the Law” was a reference not only to the specific rules in the Old Testament, like the Ten Commandments, but the Law (or Torah) was also the name given to the whole story in the first five books of the Bible. The Law includes the stories of creation, and humanity’s fall.

It includes the accounts of the covenants that God initiates and the Hebrew people’s liberation from slavery in Egypt. Likewise, when Jesus say, “the Prophets” he’s not merely referring to a handful of ancient prophecies that point to the coming of the Messiah. No, “the Prophets” was also the name given to the historical books of the Old Testament. The sagas of the Hebrews coming into the Promised Land, the tales of King David and the wisdom of Solomon, the painful stories of being conquered and defeated by ancient empires and the joy of exiles finally returning home. All of this was together referred to as “the prophets.” So when Jesus says, “I have come not to abolish the Law and the Prophets…but to fulfill them,” he is inviting us to see that he is part of the story, the old old story that goes back to the waters of creation and exodus, exile and return. He is united with, not divided from, the covenant community’s journey of faith that has gone on for thousands of years.

And yet, clearly in the coming Jesus, something certainly is New. Very New. It’s connected to the tradition that comes before, but it is much more than that tradition. Jesus doesn’t come on the scene and say, just keep on keeping on with how you’ve been. You have the Law and the Prophets, you are doing just fine. No, Jesus says, you’ve been missing the point. You’ve twisted the gift of the Law and turned it into a prison of do’s and don’t. You’ve taken the prophet’s call for righteousness, which is all about being in loving relationship with God and one another…you’ve taken this righteousness and turned it into self-righteousness. He throws around this very harsh sounding condemnation, that is actually chock full of mocking irony when he says, “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Now, the Pharisees were the group in Jesus’ day who built their entire lives around trying to keep every single letter of law as strictly as it could be interpreted.

So, Jesus says, somewhat sarcastically, if you want to play that game of self-righteousness, then you’re going to have to be even more perfect that the people who think they’re perfect. Which of course you, can’t do. Because the truth is, being a disciple of Christ, seeking to live as citizens of the kingdom of God, isn’t finally about what YOU do.
It reminds me of one of my favorite episodes of The Andy Griffith show. Andy, the sheriff of the sleepy little town of Mayberry has to go out of town for a meeting, so he leaves his deputy, Barney Fife in charge. Barney is a wiry, anxious, and over-zealous fellow, but Andy tries not worry, because he’ll only be gone for one day. When he arrives back home, the town seem awfully peaceful and quite. Then he walks into at the courthouse and realizes why.

While Andy has been gone, Barney has arrested half of the citizens of Mayberry for breaking the law. Folks are crammed into the two jail cells like sardines angrily yelling at Andy because of the injustices they have been dealt. But simple-minded Barney stares back at them and grins proudly saying, “Like I promised you, law and order has been kept in Mayberry this here day.”

Andy opens the jail cells, the people line up, and he hears each of their cases one by one. There’s an elderly gentleman who’s been arrested for disturbing the peace for yelling at his friend who beat him in a game of checkers. Andy’s own Aunt Bea has been charged with “unlawful assembly and inciting a riot” because she was standing on the sidewalk chatting with her friends and talked back when Barney told them to move along. The town mayor has even been arrested for “vagrancy and loitering” because he was walking around town.

One by one Andy listens to everyone’s stories and dismissed each of their cases. When the courthouse has emptied Barney is embarrassed and frustrated and says, “I had them, Andy. I had them all dead to rights. You can check the manual. Every one of them was as guilty as sin.”

Andy replies, “Now it’s true you had them all dead to rights by the book. But if you went strictly by the book, I don’t recon we’d have anything in this country but 180 million jail birds.” In his wisdom, Andy knew that there was more to the law that just the letter of the statute. That keeping the peace means understanding each person’s context and intent. There’s certainly a lesson in there for our broken systems today, don’t you think?

Like the Pharisees of Jesus’ day, Barney’s approach to the law is about self-righteousness. Andy’s approach on the other hand is about relationships. Relationships with your neighbors.

Jesus says he didn’t come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. He quotes one of the Ten Commandments about not committing murder, but he says that righteousness, living in right relationship with God and neighbor, calls us to do more than just avoiding murder. He says don’t be angry or hateful. Don’t condemn or label. He calls for something more radical because when we feel angry or scornful, when we lash out with harsh words of contempt or outrage at other, at the root of what we are doing is an attack on the humanity, the God-given dignity, of our another person. Jesus says, the question isn’t just whether you are trying to murder a human, but are you dehumanizing with your thoughts, words, and deeds.

This injunction against hatred and anger isn’t just something for us to hear as individuals, but also together as a people, as a society, as a church, as a country. The great Presbyterian Church historian E.T. Thompson wrote little book about the Sermon on the Mount and its meaning for the church in the modern world. He wrote it in 1946. Just as World War II had come to a close. And amidst all the victory and celebration at the end of the war, he also noticed, that in the temptation to fall into hate and anger and labelling opponents was particularly strong among those on the side of victory. Commenting on this very passage of scripture he said, in 1946, “In the years that lie ahead the leaders of our nation and of the United Nations will face tremendous responsibilities. They will make decisions on which the peace and happiness of [humanity] will depend for generations to come. And these decisions must be governed by reason and sound judgement. If instead they are dictated by passion or determined by hate, our children and our children’s children will pay the penalty.” He concluded by saying, “More than is ordinarily realized, the emotional attitudes of the American people determine the action of our statesmen. Our duty, as Christians, is to make reason and the will of God prevail.”

Friends, the same could certainly be said today. The dehumanizing effect of hatred and anger clouding our judgment as a people is just as strong a thread today, and the consequences are just as high.
Instead, Jesus offers up two examples of righteousness, one from the realm of religious patterns of worship and one from the legal system. In both cases, where there is division and discord, Jesus insists first on mending the relationship with a brother or sister before going through the outward acts of worship and justice. I find it fascinating that in both cases being righteous means interrupting what we are supposed to be doing so that reconciliation can be done.

How we worship and serve God, how we do business and make a living, how we practice justice and politics, how we live in the real world, Jesus insists is to be built upon the foundation of reconciliation. Restoring relationships, crossing divisions, celebrating the image of God in one another. That’s what real, biblical righteousness is all about. That’s what the whole story of the Law and the Prophets tell us, about a God who redeems us and calls us to live in relationships of reconciliation at the personal and societal level.

Jesus himself will fulfill that story. He will go down from this mountain top where he is teaching. He will heal the sick, touch the unclean, eat with outcasts, call the rich and the poor to follow him. He will welcome the sinners, associate with all the wrong people, even people like you and me. To the religious leaders of his day, Jesus will not appear as a very religious person, while he goes about the work of fulfilling God’s story of righteousness. He will sit around a table, this table, and share in a meal that is all about what God is doing to restore what is broken in the world. And then he’ll go from that table to a jail cell, to hill outside of the city, to a cross. Despite what he teaches us in this passage today, he will be murdered for sins he didn’t commit. He will be the recipient of humanities anger, and will be called much worse than just a fool. He will be offered as a sacrifice, and in doing so will redeem us all, even his own accusers. And three days, later, God will raise him from the dead as the ultimate fulfillment of righteousness, the ultimate restoring of love, the ultimate relationship of and reconciliation.

As a wise biblical scholar notes, “We live in a world filled with alienation and distrust. But this is precisely the kind of world in which [Jesus’ teaching] offers a vision of hope.”

Matthew 5:17-26

Scripture Reference

‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

‘You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, “You shall not murder”; and “whoever murders shall be liable to judgement.” But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, “You fool”, you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

Sermon

January 15, 2017:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon
What we just did was something special. In fact, it was nothing short of spectacular—two baptisms. This morning, Amanda and Hope entered into the community of the Church, the one Body of Christ around the world and through the ages. Amanda will remember this day for the rest of her life, and so will Hope, because she will hear her family and her church family remind of it for years to come. Something really important happened here today, because in these waters our identity as children of God is pronounced and proclaimed loud and clear. That’s the point of this sacrament. The good news of the gospel is that these waters of baptism never dry off. They are with us forever. We are always dripping wet with the reminder of God’s grace.

On some days, we really need that reminder, don’t we? Because in the real world, being a disciple, being a part of the body of Christ is hard work. In the real world, keeping a relationship with God and seeking to live faithful lives are very difficult. In the real world we are tempted to forget our identity and our calling.

This morning we begin a six week series of sermons that will be drawn from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. That sermon, one of the most famous collections of Jesus’ teaching, is all about how we live in the real world as followers of Jesus Christ. It is a hand book for discipleship, an instruction manual for life as citizens of the Kingdom of God. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches us about how to love our neighbors and our enemies, how to live in the world but not of the world, how to practice prayer, humility, generosity, and sacrifice in our daily lives. In the words that will soon follow, there is a whole lot that Jesus tells us to do.

But first, before we jump into these actions and practices of faith, Jesus begins by reminding us who we are. He says, “You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world.” Notice he doesn’t say you should try to be salt and light. He doesn’t say hopefully one day you will become salt and light. No, he says you ARE. Now. Already. It reminds me of a bumper sticker that a friend of mine has that says, “You are changing the world, whether you like it or not.” Friends, we are already the salt of the earth and the light of the world, whether we like it or not! Now, just what does he mean by that? Well, let’s unpack those phrases a bit.

We’ll start with salt. Salt is, of course, used to give flavor to food. To make things taste better. Sometimes people of faith earn reputations as being boring, bland, killjoys who reject everything fun and do not enjoy life. That certainly doesn’t sound like what Jesus is saying when he calls us “salt of the earth,” does it? No, we’re called to spice things up. To bring joy and energy, truth and goodness to the world around us.

In the ancient times, and really all time up to the modern invention of refrigerators, salt was also primarily used to preserve food. Covering meat in salt kept it fresh and prevented the infiltration of bacteria. It purifies the food by removing what could bring harm.

Salt certainly isn’t much to look at, but it’s power comes from the fact that it changes whatever it comes into contact with. Even at the molecular level, salt is a powerful change agent. Salt alters what it interacts with, and as “salt of the earth” that’s what we are called to do as well.

It’s fitting that we would be reading this passage of scripture on the weekend set aside to remember and give thanks for the work and ministry of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He and so many other in the Civil Rights Movement led the charge to change the world around them. With a conviction that was rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ, they became agents of change, seeking to remove the contaminations of prejudice and injustice in society, to preserve the image of God in all people. Dr. King was salt of the earth, altering what he came into contact with.

Of course, such agents of change are all around us every day if we open our eyes to see them. I want to tell you about one of my new heroes, Mr. Delmar. Mr. Delmar works at the Publix grocery store where we shop sometimes. Often you’ll see Mr. Delmar bagging groceries or moving shopping carts. But his favorite thing to do is to work by the helium tank, filling up bright balloons and handing them out to any child that comes into the store.

Lord knows taking a child into the grocery store is a stressful experience. Personally it makes me feel like I’m trying to balance a tray of glasses while standing in the middle of a herd of stampeding buffaloos. Anyone who tells you that they enjoy taking kids to the grocery store is lying. But when Mr. Delmar greets a 4 year old or a 7 year old with a bright balloon, it changes them, it make the world a little better for a few moments…hopefully at least long enough to make it through the produce section. Our kids can’t wait to get inside the sliding doors and look for Mr. Delmar.

He is one of my heroes, but not just because of those balloons. A few months ago I had to stop by the store really quickly with Wilson, just to grab a few things. Wilson said, “Can we see Mr. Delmar.” And sure enough as soon as we walked in there he was. Wilson asked for a balloon, and while he filled it up he noticed that Wilson had on a Batman t-shirt. He said, “Do you like Batman? I sure do! I love Batman.” Wilson smiled and nodded.

Mr. Delmar handed us the balloon and then said, “Oh, I just remembered something. Y’all go ahead and do your shopping and I’ll meet you at the checkout line.” So we went along our way, picked what we needed from the shelves. To be honest, by the time we had checked out at the register and gone out to the parking lot I had already forgot what Mr. Delmar had said. But he saw us and ran over to where we were.

He handed Wilson a small box and said, “Here you go, young man. When I saw that you liked Batman I knew I had just the thing for you. I got this for my nephew, but he moved out of town and it’s been in my car, waiting for just the right person.” Wilson opened the box and there was a watch. Not just any watch, but a Batman—a Batman watch that lights up when you push the button on the side. For a 4-year old, this is the coolest thing in the world. Wilson was so excited. But I wasn’t so sure about this. I said, “Oh Mr. Delmar, thank you so much but you don’t need to do that.” I was thinking he should probably take that watch back to where he bought it.

It didn’t look cheep. By the looks of his clothes and the holes in his shoes Mr. Delmar surely needed every dollar he could spare. But he put his hand on mine and said, “No, no, I insist. It makes me happy. That’s why I love my job. I get to make people happy. I may not have a lot of money, but I don’t need the problems that come with money. Life is about so much more. The good Lord has blessed me with a life and I just try to be blessings to others. You make sure that boy learns how to read that watch.” I nodded my head and tried to hold back tears…at least until I got in the car.

Mr. Delmar’s gift was so generous and thoughtful, and sacrificial, but here’s the amazing thing—I couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day and really for most of that week. This man, who we really didn’t know that well, went so far out of his way to bring joy to my child. For the next few days, it changed the way that I looked at my kids. When they acted up and didn’t follow direction and were being punks the way all kids are, for a few days, I was calmer in my approach to them because I felt a gratitude that grew out of Mr. Delmar’s gift. Honestly, I was a little more gracious and a little more peaceful because I of that experience of grace and peace.

Mr. Delmar is one of my heroes. He is the salt of the earth. He is an agent of change, affecting those around him, adding the spice of joy and preserving the love of God in the world. Jesus says, you ARE the salt of the earth. You are the agents that are changing the world around you, one on one. In ways that you may never see. So then, live into this identity and this mission in ways that are intentional.

Then Jesus says, “You are the light of the world.” Now, that might sound like a nice religious sounding phrase—maybe it makes you want to start singing “This Little Light of Mine.” But there’s actually a lot more going on in Jesus’ statement than may be immediately obvious. In those days, the Roman Empire, and the emperor in particular, were often referred to as “the light of the world.” From his throne the emperor had all the power and might, all the wealth and military backing to shine his light, his rule on all the world that was his possession. But in a radical and surprising twist, Jesus uses this political phrase, “the light of the world” to talk about a rag-tag group of poor rural fishermen and tax collectors and home makers and no-bodies.

He says, not the emperor in Rome, but YOU are the real light of the world. And one light, one tiny lamp, will light up an entire house if we let it. Like the salt, the light of which Jesus is speaking is something small. Something that seems insignificant, but that carries the power to illumine far more around it. A little light, can change the world.

So, Jesus says, don’t cover you light up. Don’t put it under a basket where it becomes useless. Let is shine. Don’t cover it under a basket of fear about how you will be received or thought of by others. Don’t cover it with anger or resentment when things don’t go your way. Don’t hide it under the stress or worry about whether there will be enough. Don’t hide it under false sentimentality or empty spirituality that is only focused on yourself. Don’t hide your light under closedmindedness or smallmindedness that cannot make room to see what God is doing in the world today. Don’t hide your light, Jesus says. Let it shine so that others will see God’s glory.

A wise Biblical commentator notes that as the salt of the earth and the light of the world, “the mission of the church is not to preserve itself, but to preserve the world—not to point to itself, but to illuminate the way and bring glory to God.” When we forget who we really are we become complacent, self-focused, we lose our point and purpose as disciples. We cease to become change agents and instead are changed by the world around us. When we forget who we are, we cease to transform society but instead become conformed to the prevailing prejudices of our day. No, Jesus say, remember who you are. Let your light shine and stay salty my friends.

Friends the good news of the gospel is what God has already done in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Already done and accomplished for us. In these waters, we are already claimed as God’s family, made members of the body of Christ. We are already salt of the earth and light of the world. That’s the good news, but the profound challenge of discipleship in the real world is to take that big, massive, wonderful good news of what God has done and point to it in particular, concrete actions—to live in ways that let God’s light shine in our daily lives—to spice things up with grace and love, peace and joy.
To God alone be the glory.

Scripture

Matthew 5:1-2, 13-16

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled underfoot.
“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Sermon

December 11, 2016:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

In the pages of the Bible dreams are important business. Dreams are those odd landscapes between wakefulness and sleep. Usually today, if we remember details from our dreams we attribute them to something we ate or drank or maybe something stressful from our day. Last week we had a meeting of the budget and finance committee, and later that night I dreamed about spreadsheets. I don’t think I need Sigmund Freud to help explain what that’s about. But in the pages of the Bible, dreams are understood to be a realm of divine encounter—a place where the dreamer experiences firsthand the wonder and mystery of God’s revelation.

In the Old Testament, God spoke through dreams to heroes like Jacob and Joseph and to kings and prophets as well. In our scripture lesson today, we hear about one such life-changing dream experienced by a man who is also named Joseph. But before we get to his dream, let’s first go back and see what we know about this Joseph. Honestly it’s not that much.

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me like Joseph is usually the most boring figure in our nativity sets and manger scenes. Mary and Jesus are impossible to miss. The shepherds are easy to spot with their crooks and sheep. The three kings are crowned and usually painted in bright colors. And then Joseph is just the guy who’s left over. The other day I was putting a manger scene together and I mistook Joseph for an extra shepherd. How embarrassing.

We don’t know were to put Joseph in the story do we? He is called Jesus’s father, but we know he isn’t really his father. Mary is the parent who is much more interesting of a character, singing her songs of prophecy and appearing later on in other stories with her son after he is grown. Joseph never speaks a single word in the entire Bible, and after Jesus’ childhood we never hear about him again.

So who was this silent man of Christmas? Our story today gives us the only details we have. He is called “a righteous man,” that is, he was someone who did his best to live by the ancient laws of the Old Testament Torah. Notice that Joseph is called righteous at the beginning of this story, before he has had his marvelous dream. And the proof of his righteousness is shown in how he responds to finding out that the woman he is engaged to marry is pregnant with someone else’s baby. What a blow that must have been to him: broken trust with the woman he loved, a shameful insult to his pride, the end of his hope for a respectable family life. The letter of the law was loud and clear. For getting pregnant before marriage, Mary could have been publicly disgraced by the town’s leaders and punished with death by stoning. According to the religious law, Joseph was well within his rights to insist on this punishment. But Joseph is shown to be “righteous” by deciding to dismiss Mary quietly. Joseph does everything quietly!

Now in one sense it does seem awfully kind of Joseph to not seek Mary’s death, but to our modern ears this many still sound like an awfully condescending and patriarchal view of righteousness. For Mary, pregnant and scared, is still being cast aside like a piece of trash. As an unwed mother in ancient Israel, she and her child would be condemned to scrape out a harsh existence in poverty as social outcasts. I’m not so sure that Joseph’s decision to dismiss Mary is proof of his righteousness so much as a set up by the author of the gospel to show us what counted as “righteousness” at the time—a self-concerned, fearful approach to religion, used to protect those who are in power. It’s this kind of righteousness that will lead the Pharisees and others to opposed Jesus once he grows up. It’s this kind of self-focused righteousness that will have Jesus arrested, tried, and condemned to die for blasphemy. It’s this kind of fearful righteousness that will nail him to a cross and leave him to die, quietly dismissed by the rest of humanity. It’s this kind of blindly sentimental, patriarchal righteousness that has mascaraed as Christian faith through the ages, whenever those in power use religious tradition to keep their status at the top and conquer, exploit, and oppress those below them.

When our story starts, Joseph is a “righteous man” by all accounts of what nice religious people in his day considered to be righteous. But when he falls asleep that night everything changes! Like his Old Testament namesake, Joseph dreams a dream of what is to come, and this future is shocking and scary. Then angel that appears tells Joseph not to be afraid. Have you noticed that angels are always saying that, they really the sound like a broken record. They tell Mary, “Do not be afraid.” They tell the shepherds, “Do not be afraid.” Seeing an angel is apparently a scary thing, and so they usual tell people not to be afraid of them. But this time the angel is talking about a different kind of fear. He says, “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife.” Don’t be afraid of what others will think of you. Don’t be afraid of the unexpected. Don’t be afraid of your own sense of disappointment and inadequacy. Don’t be afraid to do what God calls you to do. Because, as it turns out, this situation is nothing like it appears to be.

Yes, Mary is pregnant. No, you’re not the father. But this isn’t what you think, Joseph. For Mary bears a child conceived by the Holy Spirit. This is no ordinary baby, but the very son of God—the Wonder of all wonders, the Mystery of all mysteries. This child is Emmanuel, God-with-us, coming to save us all from our sins. Coming to save the righteous and the unrighteous. The poor and the powerful. The broken and the prideful, the pious and the pitiful. He is coming to save us all. So he is to be named “Jesus,” which means “he will save.”

And here’s the hard part for you, Joseph, quiet Joseph, this boy is going to need a father, someone to give him his name. He is going to need a father to nurture him, to hold him, and to protect him as he grows. He’s going to need a dad to teach him the tools of the trade and how to throw a baseball. He’s going to need a father to show him what real righteousness looks like. So Joseph, quiet Joseph, righteous Joseph, you have a part to play in this story of God’s salvation.

When dawn appeared that next morning, Joseph was a new man. The scripture says, ^“When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took [Mary] as his wife.” When he awoke from his sleep…

            Before that night, Joseph was considered upright and respectable in the eyes of others, but he woke up from that illusion, ready to do what God was calling him to do, even though it would seem scandalous to everyone. Before that night, Joseph was considered righteous for seeking to follow the letter of the law, but he woke up from that illusion prepared to practice a truer, deeper kind of righteousness—welcoming the outcast and the broken into his heart and his home.

Maybe we have trouble finding Joseph’s place in our manger scenes, because in a way, he looks the most like us. Maybe we never hear Joseph speak in the story, because his voice is actually our own. Maybe we struggle in our lives with the same worries that he faced. We try to do the right thing, but sometimes, our attempts at righteousness turn out to be much more about what we are doing than what God is doing in the world—more about self-righteousness than risky, sacrificial, scandalous faith.

Maybe, like Joseph, we need to be woken up from our dreams…from our dreams of work, and money, and pressure, and failure…our dreams of materialism, and jealously, and self-centeredness. Maybe we need to be woken up from our nightmares of tragedy and grief, our nightmares of fear and violence, our nightmares of social discord and warfare and suffering. Maybe we need to be woken up from our slumber of ignorance of those whose lives are drastically different than our own. Maybe we need to be woken up as people of faith today, woken up to the reality that in Christ God is doing something we never thought possible.

If this is true, if this dream is real, that God is with us, really here, with us in all our brokenness, born to save us from our sins and from our self-righteousness…if this is true, then its’ time to wake up. Because God is calling us to play a part in this story

            Last week, on Cantata Sunday our choir and guest musicians led us in a wonderful musical service that proclaimed “The Joy of Christmas.” Interspersed within the music were readings from scripture and poetry. One of the poems we heard was by Thomas Troeger. It was all about Joseph, and it’s a wonderful way to end our reflection on his story this morning:

The hands that first held Mary’s child
were hard from working wood,
from boards they sawed and planed and filed
and splinters they withstood.
This day they gripped no tool of steel,
they drove no iron nail,
but cradled from the head to heel
our Lord, newborn and frail.

When Joseph marveled at the size 
of that small breathing frame,
and gazed upon those bright new eyes
and spoke the infant’s name,
the angel’s words he once had dreamed
poured down from heaven’s height,
and like the host of stars that beamed
blessed earth with welcome light.

“This child shall be Emmanuel,
not God upon the throne,
but God with us, Emmanuel,
as close as blood and bone.”
The tiny form in Joseph’s palms
confirmed what he had heard,
and from his heart rose hymns and psalms
for heaven’s human word.

The tools that Joseph laid aside
a mob would later lift
and use with anger, fear, and pride
to crucify God’s gift.
Let us, O Lord, not only hold
the child who’s born today,
but charged with faith may we be bold 
to follow in his way.

Friends, it’s time to wake up and follow in his way! Amen.

Scripture

Matthew 1: 18-25

18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. ¹⁹Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. ²⁰But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’²²All this took place to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: 

²³ ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
            and they shall name him Emmanuel’,

which means, ‘God is with us.’ ²⁴When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, ²⁵but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Sermon

October 2, 2016: Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Scripture

Esther 4: 9-17

Context: Jewish people in Exile (Babylonians then Persians)

Back Story: Persian King (Xerxes) displeased with queen and dismisses her King holds a beauty pageant to pick the next queen
Esther and Mordecai, Jewish cousins Esther was an orphan, Mordecai raised her as his own child Esther enters the beauty pageant Mordecai says don’t tell them about your family and identity Esther wins the beauty pageant and becomes queen.

Conflict: King appoints Haman as top official, all bow before him
Mordecai won’t bow before Haman (because he’s Jewish)
Haman infuriated and wants Mordecai killed
Haman plots for all the Jews in the whole kingdom put to death
He tells the king: “There is a certain people scattered and separated among the peoples in all the provinces of your kingdom; their laws are different from those of every other people, and they do not keep the king’s laws, so that it is not appropriate for the king to tolerate them. If it pleases the king, let a decree be issued for their destruction.”(3: 8-9)
Letters sent throughout the kingdom announcing the massacre
Jews mourning. Mordecai wails, tears cloths, sackcloth & ashes
Esther sends her messenger to Mordecai to ask what is wrong
Mordecai sends her a copy of the royal degree
Mordecai begs her to plead for the Jews

Hathach [Esther’s messenger] went and told Esther what Mordecai had said. Then Esther spoke to Hathach and gave him a message for Mordecai, saying, ‘All the king’s servants and the people of the king’s provinces know that if any man or woman goes to the king inside the inner court without being called, there is but one law—all alike are to be put to death. Only if the king holds out the golden scepter to someone, may that person live. I myself have not been called to come in to the king for thirty days.’
When they told Mordecai what Esther had said, Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, ‘Do not think that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father’s family will perish. Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.’
Then Esther said in reply to Mordecai, ‘Go, gather all the Jews to be found in Susa, and hold a fast on my behalf, and neither eat nor drink for three days, night or day. I and my maids will also fast as you do. After that I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish.’ Mordecai then went away and did everything as Esther had ordered him.

Story Continues: Esther goes uninvited to the king’s court even in threat of death
She wins his favor, and she asks to throw a banquet
King and Haman come to banquet and ask what she wants
She asks for another banquet the next day
Haman is happy thinking that these feasts are for his honor
Haman walks past Mordecai who will not bow before him
Next day, Esther throws second banquet and wins King’s favor
King says he will grant whatever she wishes
Esther says she wishes for her life and the life of her people
Reveals she is Jewish and will be killed according to the decree
The tells the king there is a plot against her people.
King asked who is the enemy that presumed to do this?
Esther says, “This wicked Haman,” King sees the plot
Servant comes in to announce that the gallows Haman ordered to hang Mordecai on have been built
King says “Hang him on that.”
The Jewish people are saved by Esther’s bravery and wisdom!
To this day, the Jewish people celebrate this festival each year
“These days should be remembered and kept throughout every generation, in every family, province, and city.” (9:28)