Matthew 18:18-20 "All That He Stood For"

         A group of five church members meet at 10:00 A.M. as usual to play golf together on a humid Sunday morning in the summer.  They pray that the thunderstorms will not hit until after the 18^th hole.  Well, you know, where two or three of us are gathered in his name, he is right there with us.

         A family heads out to the slopes on a clear and frosty Sunday morning – perfect skiing weather. Oh, that’s right.  They said grace together at breakfast.  So, remember, where two or three are gathered in Jesus’ name…

         A handful show up for Sunday morning worship – the weather is too bad or too good to expect many more – and the pastor prepares to welcome the remnant that showed up and says (primarily to make the people who did come feel that it was worth it): “Well, we all know what the Bible says: ‘Where two or three or more are gathered in his name, he is there.’”

         As if Jesus congratulates you when you are three under par on the eighth hole, as if Jesus is sharing the chairlift with you and remarking about that awesome first run on fresh powder, as if Jesus is providing the much-needed bass voice in the choir or is standing by the coffee urn after worship waiting for someone to welcome him and start a conversation.

         “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”  That is probably one of the most misused phrases in all the Bible.  You know as well as I do that it is constantly employed to justify all sorts of dubiously churchy behavior and religious motivations – and it is a terrific phrase for assuaging guilt over missing church because something better came along.

 We wish we could be in church, but Sunday morning is the only family time we have – and we do say grace, and our kids do say their prayers at bedtime.  At least we are thinking about Jesus.  After all, “where two or three are gathered in his name….”

Why don’t more people come to the Advent vespers service or the Maundy Thursday service?  Oh well, you can hardly expect folks to do that.  In our congregation, everyone is so busy, and besides, who cares if there is a tiny congregation.  Jesus himself says it: “where two or three (or a handful more) are gathered in my name…..”

Now, each one of those uses of that bandied about phrase carries with it a nice thought, but all those commonplace examples completely ignore the context in which these verses were first spoken.  You see, the Gospel writer of Matthew was not referring either to quality family vacation time or declining church attendance when he put those words into Jesus’ mouth. 

Reputable Biblical scholars and historians alike would agree that the Gospel writer was referring to church discipline.  He was citing the process that he believed ancient congregations should be following when they dealt with conflict in their own little portion of the Body of Christ.  

For Jews who originally heard these words back in the first century, it was a no brainer.  They immediately knew that this passage dealt with disciplinary processes.  After all, it was eerily reminiscent of parts of the Torah in the Book of Deuteronomy.  You see, the Law as outlined there stipulated that two or three witnesses were required if proper court proceedings were to take place.

 In these corresponding verses in Matthew, the Gospel writer lays out a clear path to reconciliation – or condemnation.  As Lutheran pastor Mark Hoffman notes, “There is the good strategy of starting the process privately and in person, and then, if needed, bringing in others to assure integrity to that process.” 

In fact, it is the conflict resolution process that we try to follow around here.  If you have a gripe with someone, you are encouraged to work it out with that person directly – and not discuss it with others in the parking lot.  If a one-to-one conversation does not work, then the Pastor or deacons or Pastoral Relations Committee are there to help sort things out.  If that does not work, then the Council can take on the complaint.  And if you follow that open and transparent process, then you can be assured that Jesus will have your back.  One blogger I read this week put it this way:  Jesus “will be divinely present among as they seek Christ-like unity and wisdom in making their decision.”

I think that I shall never see

A church that’s all it ought to be;

A church whose members never stray

Beyond the straight and narrow way!

A church that has no empty pews,

Whose pastor never has the blues,

A church whose deacons always deak

And none is proud, and all are meek;

Where gossips never peddle lies,

Or make complaints and criticize;

Where all are always sweet and kind

And to all others’ faults are blind.

Such perfect churches there may be,

But none of them are known to me.

But still we’ll work and pray and plan

To make our own the best we can.

         However, I am not going to focus on church conflict this morning. I am not going to talk about gossips peddling lies and being blind to one another’s faults – which lies at the foundation of this passage in Matthew we just read.  I am also not talking about how or why someone would choose – or not choose – to come to church.

Instead, what caught my imagination as I studied this passage this week was that misused phrase – ““For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”  I found myself wondering what it means for Jesus to be with us as congregation - in the midst of us – when we are not embroiled in conflict.

I mean, after all, surely we trust that Jesus is here among us at other times as well.  We presume that Jesus is with us when we worship.  We call upon his guidance when we study together or when we meet as a Church Council.  Surely we hope that he shares our laughter and our tears and even hangs around when we serve pot roast on a Saturday night in the Vestry.  

So - I want to talk about how, as the poem said, “we’ll work and pray and plan to make our own (church) the best we can” – with Jesus clearly in our midst.

         What does it mean then for Jesus to be front and center as we strive to be the church?  What does it mean for us to connect and re-connect to him?  Those are questions well worth pondering as we seek to envision the future of our church.

         Many of you remember Fran Mains, a member of our church who now lives in a nursing home in Windham.  I was always struck when Fran prayed by the words she used to end her prayers.  She never simply said…we pray in Jesus’ name.  No - every time I heard her lead a prayer, she finished by saying: we pray in Jesus’ name and for all he stood for. 

“And for all he stood for”:  Whenever I heard Fran speak those words, they reminded me of the way I feel most connected to Jesus.  It is not by a vision of some first century swarthy complexioned Middle Eastern man.  It is not by a feeling that someone was looking over my shoulder or even had my back. 

Whenever I heard Fran’s words, I remembered that I feelmost connected to Jesus by the legacy for ministry that he left for us.  I feel connected to him by all that he stood for – and all he challenges me to be and to do. 

He continues to be present to me not because I somehow know what he looks like or sounds like.  He is real for me because of all he stood for.  Some people may have visions of him; some people may have visceral experiences of him.  Not me. 

I know him because of all he stood for.  I know him because of the work to which he calls me and calls the churches I serve.  I know him because of the way he constantly beckons me to step out of my own little world and seek a bigger picture of humanity, one that certainly includes, but also extends far beyond, Raymond.

To what extent we as a congregation decide to step out of our own little world, become less insular, connect and reconnect with people who are different than we are – who are Muslim and Jewish, who are people of color, who have values and cultural norms that do not match ours – to the extent that we choose to struggle to embrace a world like that will determine our future as a church.  In a sense, we need to figure out all that “binding and loosing” business that Matthew refers to.

One blogger I read noted that “in Jesus day, (binding and loosing) was a common term for the scholarly practice of deciding if a particular biblical commandment was applicable to a contemporary situation.  Jewish rabbis “bound” the law when they determined that a commandment was applicable to a particular situation, and they “loosed” the law when they determined that a word of scripture (while eternally valid) was not applicable under certain specific circumstances.” 

So – the question for us as a congregation is this:  If we can be most assured that Jesus is in our midst because all he stood for, then what of his legacy of ministry do we bind to us as a congregation? What aspects of Jesus’ legacy are so important that we will choose to embrace them at all costs as part and parcel of who we are as a church? 

When I think of all the Jesus stood for – inclusion, radical welcome, connection to the poor, justice-seeking, non-violence, I find we need to ask our question this way: To what extent are we willing to step out of our own little world and step into a world that is unknown and maybe even a bit scary to us, so that we can be Jesus’ hands and feet and in that way find him in our midst?   Because, you see, “Where two or three or more are gathered…” has nothing to do with golf or skiing or reading the Sunday newspaper together.

Furthermore, it has less to do with gathering inside these walls on Sunday morning and more to do with meeting Jesus in the eyes of the homeless man, the fleeing refugee, the ones whose lives have been irrevocably changed by Hurricane Florence and Typhoon Matthew, the ones who are live so differently than we do here in Raymond.   In fact, it has everything to do with the extent to which we will commit to move out of our own little world, to move from Population One to Population Two – or more.

That is what we will be exploring for these next few weeks during this new worship series.  Our overarching question will be this:  How do we gather not just to “maintain” the church as we remember it from the past, but instead gather to discover why it is that the church exists at all and just how we will find Jesus in the midst of that discovery?

Because this question of finding Jesus in our midst is closely tied to who we are as a church and to our ministries, so it is also closely tied to stewardship and to our annual fall stewardship campaign. It may seem early to be bringing up that topic, but now you will have lots of time and lots of fodder to consider in making your financial pledge for 2019. 

In the coming weeks, we will explore what our church is doing to move out of our own little world and just how we are connecting and reconnecting to the community here in Raymond – and beyond – and how we could do more.  I hope that through our worship together you will more clearly see (and better understand) the need for your financial support in this venture and that it cannot be the support of a few of us but needs to be the support of all of us for this church to survive and thrive. 

So – I invite you to come with me these next few Sundays as we venture out of our own little world of Population One and into the world of Population Two or More.  And I invite you to trust with me that along the way we will find Jesus in our midst.

James 1:17-27 "Epistle of Straw?"

         The Book of James is one of those short bits of writing tucked away toward the end of the New Testament part of the Bible.  It comes after the four Gospels that narrate Jesus’ life and ministry (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John).  It comes after the letters that the Apostle Paul wrote to nascent and often struggling early Christian communities like the ones in Corinth and Galatia.  It comes after the letter he wrote to the large urban church in Rome where he sets forth what will become, over time, wide-spread and then orthodox Christian systematic theology.

         German cleric Martin Luther, the “go to” guy when it comes to Protestantism, did not like the Book of James very much.  He called it an “Epistle of Straw” with “nothing of the nature of the Gospel about it.” Luther was probably down on the Book of James because it was so unlike the writings of Paul, whom he deeply admired and in whom he grounded his own theology. 

It is true that the Book of James is not theologically deep like some of Paul’s letters and is instead pre-eminently down-to-earth and practical.  It is also true that James does not mention Jesus even once in his letter. 

However, we ought to remember that James wrote to a faith community made up of baptized believers, people who were already familiar with Jesus and his story. As Presbyterian pastor Jenny McDivett notes, “the letter was written not to bring its readers to faith, then, but to advise its readers on how to live out the faith they already had.”

         Maybe Martin Luther had forgotten some of those exegetical finer points.  I do not know.  However, much as I admire Martin Luther, I would beg to differ with him in his negative assessment of the Book of James.   I think this brief and down-to-earth letter offers important ideas for us to consider.  It is chock full of sermon material!  Where to start?  What to focus on?

James probably wrote the letter to a first century congregation rife with bitterness, backbiting, and polarization, a faith community trying to figure out its place in the ancient pagan world.  And twenty centuries later, the Book of James still offers us solid advice on what it means to live a Christian life in a cynical and hurting world and what the church ought to be all about if it is to call itself the church.

         Presbyterian pastor Marci Glass reminds us that “James tells us we are to ‘be not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.’ Which means we aren’t supposed to just listen to the reading of the scripture, hear the teachings of the church, say ‘isn’t that nice’, and then go back to what we were doing before we heard the good news.

We are supposed to live out our faith in our actions. Which is not the same as saying we are to earn our faith with our actions. We don’t earn our faith because we do good deeds. Instead, our faith is the gift of God, and our lives are the response” to that gift.

         In these verses we just read, James labels us – you and me – as the “first fruits” of God’s creation. What he means is that we – you and I – are like an offering.  The terminology “first fruits” harkens back to a Hebrew agricultural society.  When the harvest was collected, peasant farmers brought a portion of the very best of it to the temple where it was offered to Yahweh/God in gratitude and thanksgiving. 

Glass goes on to say that “in this passage, however, God offers us as first fruits. We are the gift that is shared, signifying abundance and provision.” God has offered us – you and me – as gifts to the world God created and loved.  We are a sacred offering.  We are God’s offering to a cynical and hurting world.

         How powerful is that! Think about it.  What if we first saw our lives as gifts? What if we became “doers” of the word not because we had to, not because we would somehow be assured of going to heaven (whatever that means), but what if we became doers of the word simply in response to what we had known and experienced as God’s love? 

         What would that paradigm shift – that simple change in perspective - mean for us as individuals who call ourselves Christian and for us as the church?

         A man was hired to paint the lines on the highway that divide the lanes. Now the company did not have a lot of resources, so he had to do his painting on foot. After the first day at work his supervisor was very impressed when he learned that this new employee had painted three miles’ worth of lines.

Unfortunately, the next day the results were not quite as impressive. He was only able to extend the lines for two miles. The third day he only painted less than one mile of lines.

The supervisor went from being impressed to being concerned. The new employee’s performance was now not acceptable. He called him into him into his office and said, "I’ am going to have to let you go."

The employee dropped his head and got up to leave. As he was going out the door he turned and said, "It’ is not my fault, you know. I have never worked so hard in all my life. It is just that the paint bucket keeps getting further and further away."

On this Labor Day Sunday, maybe this story should serve to remind us of our tendency as Christians to work so hard, but not necessarily so effectively,  James is not suggesting that we work harder.  He is advising us to be more faithful to the real work to which we are called.

And James tells us openly what that “real work” is.  It is “to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”  “Widows and orphans” is ancient world shorthand for creative compassion, for a strong commitment to “social justice”, that  uncomfortable and fraught term unfortunately associated with the liberal left.   And keeping oneself unstained by the world?  That is not easy when the world is constantly staining us with its cynicism, hopelessness, and apathy.

Yet, for James, taking what we hear on Sunday morning and translating it into positive action the other six days of the week is the litmus test of Christian commitment for everyone – young and old, tired and energetic, liberal and conservative.  Sunday – and Sunday worship - is not the climax, apex, or “be all end all” of the Christian week. 

Sunday – and Sunday worship - is important, to be sure, because it supports our Christian lives for the rest of the week. It is like vocational training for Monday through Saturday.  It is our time to gather as a faith community to rejoice in the sacred love we have experienced and to ponder what it means to be God’s first fruits offering to the world.  Sunday worship energizes and inspires us – or, at least, it should.

The Book of James sets forth a powerful message indeed.  As Baptist pastor Peter Rhea Jones has noted, this letter “could actually bring off a renewing of the Christian life. There will be a recurring temptation to tame the powerful social message of this flaming letter, to domesticate it and calm its biting, all too relevant message into palatable terms. If this message of James is allowed to go out unmuffled, it will rattle the stained glass windows.”

After many years in ministry and thousands of hours thinking about and talking about the decline of moderate churches like ours, I have come to believe that focusing our energy on filling the pews on Sunday morning so we can be like the church in the 1950’s and 1960’s  where all the men were engaged and all the women wore hats and all the children were above average when it came to their behavior is certainly working harder but not working effectively.

James tells us flat out that, as one blogger I read this week wrote, “True religion moves us to action.”  (In other words,) we don’t just see the need and then walk away after saying a few good words (about it on Sunday morning).  Bob Rowland pictures the problem in his poem “Listen, Christian!”:

I was hungry

And you formed a humanities club

And discussed my hunger.

Thank you.

I was imprisoned

And you crept off quietly

To your chapel in the cellar

And prayed for my release.

 I was naked,

And in your mind

You debated the morality

Of my appearance.

I was sick

And you knelt and thanked God

For your health.

I was homeless

And you preached to me

Of the spiritual shelter

Of the Love of God.

I was lonely

And you left me alone

to pray for me.

You seem so holy;

So close to God.

But I’m still very hungry.

We can never substitute another church service or even more Bible reading for rolling up our sleeves and getting involved in this hurting world. True religion sees the distress of the world and then moves to meet that need.”

Folks will first seriously check out Sunday worship here because they have witnessed us – you and me – being more than hearers of the word, to use James’ terminology.  They will be intrigued by what goes on here on Sunday mornings because they have seen us – you and me – being doers of the word.  They will have witnessed us Monday through Saturday living authentically and meaningfully as we care for the widows and orphans (those in need) here in Raymond, in Maine, and throughout the world. 

They will see us as the church who sends a team to Maine Seacoast Mission to rehab trailers.  They will see us as the faith community who supports efforts to bridge the political divide like the Makeshift Coffee House. They will see us as the church who started the Random Acts of Kindness Grant Program. They will see us as the church that openly questions what it is that will make American great again.

 And if we are to survive and thrive as a church, they will see us actively seeking to figure out what the needs are right here in Raymond and doing our best to intentionally meet those needs.  And if we are to survive and thrive as a church, they will see us as a congregation whose efforts to transform the world around us go far beyond five pot roast suppers, as a congregation whose primary commitment is to something more profound than great music on Sunday morning, as a congregation whose values are grounded in love and thanksgiving.  If we are to survive and thrive as a church, they will see us as a people not prone to judging others and not content to live our lives as if the Gospel message was an afterthought or a pretty low priority.  Instead they will see us as a people of great high hope.

And when they wonder why we live with such hope in such an embattled world, we will tell them it is because that is who we are as the Raymond Village Community Church (United Church of Christ).  That is my prayer anyway – and that is also what keeps me up at night as your pastor.  Can we be doers of the word and not just hearers of the word?  Do we want to be doers of the word and not just hearers of the word? Does James’ message resonate enough with us to make that critical paradigm shift that causes us to focus less on Sunday and more on Monday through Saturday?  Does James’ message resonate in that way – or is it just an “Epistle of Straw”?