There Was a Man Named John

 If this morning's gospel reading feels a little familiar to you, well, it should. Last week we read Mark 1:1-8. The first verse of Mark 1 is about Jesus: The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. But after that, the next seven verses are about John the Baptist. This week, we read from the first chapter of John's gospel. The first chapter of John is a lot longer than the first chapter of Mark—there's a lot going on in John 1, from an opening poem about the Word of God to the call of the first disciples. But once again we are reading a passage about John the Baptist. Now, many of you know that I use a list of readings for each week called the Revised Common Lectionary, which is put together by a large group of Christian preachers and scholars—not by me. And when I saw that this Advent two weeks in a row we would have readings about John the Baptist, I wondered why. I imagine some of you are wondering the same thing this morning: why two weeks on John the Baptist?

Give to God the Things That Are God's

Preached By Lynn Davis, Lay Servant at Centre UMC

  

Today, the Lord put it on my heart to expound on the New Testament reading of Matthew 22:15-22. The question the Pharisees tried to use to entrap Jesus…..the question about paying taxes.

Standing in the Breach

            Think about this: Have you ever defied God? Have you ever looked at a circumstance and said to God, “No. You can’t do this. I won’t allow it.”? Would you even dare to do something like that?

We spend so much time in church learning to be reverent and deferential toward God that we can forget that there is more to faithful obedience than being God’s yes-man or yes-woman. We expect our faithful speech to be full of praise and gratitude and thanksgiving. In recent times we have become obsessed with saccharine faithfulness. We have praise and worship services that gloss over life’s difficulties. It’s headline news when a saint like Mother Teresa or a church leader like Pope Francis or Canterbury Archbishop Justin Welby admits to wrestling with God over daily struggles of faith and discipleship. Our prayers are full of chatter about thanking you so much God, and loving you so much God, and being so amazed at how wonderful you are God.

You Shall Not Bear False Witness Against Your Neighbor

            “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.” It’s the ninth commandment, low enough on the list that it almost didn’t make the cut. It doesn’t have the prominence of “you shall have no other gods before me” or “remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.” “You shall not bear false witness” is not one of the two greatest commandments, according to Jesus. Despite this, or maybe because of it, after number six, “you shall not murder,” number nine has probably suffered the most at the hands of people looking for technicalities, backdoor exits, and loopholes. “You shall not bear false witness” really boils down to “you shall not lie,” which is how God puts it at other points in the Pentateuch. And that’s exactly where the problems begin for us, because we are all really good liars. We lie all the time. “How’s this dress look on me?” Lie. “What do you think of my new haircut?” Lie. “How much did you spend at the… grocery store, ballgame, bar, last night?” Lie. “Can you make it to my dinner party this Friday?” Lie.

Strike the Rock

            Two years ago I was in the mountains of Western Maryland for a week of vacation at my family’s stomping grounds just west of Deep Creek, near Oakland. My mom’s family is all from out that way, and we’ve made annual pilgrimages since I was a kid, but it was my first time back in years. A lot was familiar; the eighty-year-old cabins hadn’t changed much. Some things, however, were different. The biggest difference that I remember was stepping out to take in the mountain landscape and seeing, about 10 miles away, gigantic wind mills cluttering the skyline. New construction for cleaner energy. They were huge, and they were ugly.

The Sabbath Economy

            It’s a bit surprising, isn’t it? The people of Israel, God’s chosen people, have been out of Egypt for less than two months. Already they’re complaining. Already they’ve forgotten the agony and hardships of life under Pharaoh. Instead of celebrating God’s deliverance, they’re dreaming of life back in Egypt—as if the supposedly plentiful bread they ate by the fleshpots somehow balanced the back-breaking labor they endured.

Take Me to the Water

            The sea is a dangerous foe in the eyes of Scripture. It is the swirling, chaotic waters of the sea that God brings under control at the beginning of creation in Genesis 1. The sea brings forth life according to God’s command, but that life includes the fearful beast Leviathan in Job and the whale that swallows Jonah and holds him in its belly for three days. To cross the sea is to make an uncertain voyage to a distant land, to be cut off from the good and certain shores of Israel. Yet for whatever reason, the path of the Hebrew people fleeing from Egypt leads them right up to the edge of the sea. It didn’t have to be this way. The exodus takes place three thousand years before the Suez Canal was built. There were land routes that would have completely avoided the sea. Nonetheless, for whatever reason, the Hebrew people find themselves at a dead end: the sea on one side, and the Egyptian army closing in on the other.

The Passover Lamb

            As we journey through the Old Testament this summer and fall, we’re really getting the highlights reel version of the story: key moments rather than intense details. A week ago we encountered Moses at the Burning Bush, face to face with the Living God. This week we have skipped all the way to the Passover. A lot has happened in Egypt since last week’s reading from Exodus 3. Moses and his brother Aaron have confronted Pharaoh again and again, pleading and demanding that Pharaoh let the Israelites go. Nine plagues—water turned to blood, frogs, gnats, flies, diseased livestock, sores, thunder and hail, locusts, and darkness—have tormented Egypt, but Pharaoh has not been swayed. He has toyed with Moses and Aaron, pretending sometimes to respond to their complaints and changing his mind just as they thought they had tasted freedom. But Pharaoh’s heart was hard, and he refused to listen to Moses or to the Lord. The Lord’s deliverance will come without the cooperation of Pharaoh.

The LORD

            Moses enters the desert to find food for his father-in-law’s sheep. Instead, he comes face to face with the Living God, the Lord. A flame catches Moses’ eye, a bush on fire but not consumed. Moses alters his path, turns aside to see this bush, this fire. Moses is willing to let God interrupt his plans. And God does not remain silent; he speaks to Moses. God reveals himself to Moses and tells Moses he knows what’s going on in Egypt. “I have observed the misery of my people.” Even more: “I have heard their cry.” More still: “I have come down to deliver them.” And then: “You, Moses, I’m sending you.”

What Counts and What Matters

            When you focus only on what counts, you’ll end up losing track of what really matters. That’s the lesson Pharaoh learns, the hard way, in Exodus 1 and 2, our Old Testament reading for this morning. Years have passed since Joseph, the great prince adviser of Egypt, died. Once welcomed with open arms, the Israelites, or the Hebrews, have become a nuisance to the Egyptian monarchy. Pharaoh, a new Pharaoh, fears the Israelites. There’s no reason to fear them—they’ve done nothing, as far as we can tell, but live peaceably in Egypt. Like every other Pharaoh, Egyptian or not, this new king invents a problem so that he can satisfy his bloodlust.

The Tears of Joseph

            The scene is tense. The sons of Jacob stand before the throne of Egypt’s most powerful prince. They are tired and hungry—they are desperate. Already they have been before this throne and sent away. Now their youngest brother, Benjamin, has been detained and accused of stealing the prince’s silver. If they had anyplace else to turn, they would have done so, but they are poor, and they need this prince’s help. Their family will starve without it.

Brother Joseph

Starting today, and for most of the next fourteen weeks or so, our sermons here at Centre are going to be based on the Old Testament lesson. We are going to pay careful attention to God’s covenant love with Israel, starting this morning with Joseph and continuing through the birth of Moses and the Exodus to the entry into the Promised Land under Joshua. Along with the story of the life of Jesus Christ, this long story is the core story of our Christian faith.