Resist in Peace

Delusional. Depraved. Incompetent. Corrupt.

It grieves me, but I unapologetically believe that these words accurately describe our current presidential administration. In my grief, I am encouraged by the fact that scales appear to be falling from the eyes of more and more folks who initially supported the Trump regime. Reality is turning them toward truth and toward justice. They are not necessarily becoming Democrats (capital “D”), nor should they feel like that’s what they’re doing. But they are, I hope, becoming democratic (lower-case “d”), again, and, therefore, fellow participants in and defenders of our constitutional republic.

And don’t we need at least two healthy political parties and constructive disagreement among them? Without that basic diversity, aren’t we susceptible to surrendering to a single person or party that we allow to control all policies, procedures, perceptions, and people under the pretext of being the only one(s) who can deliver security and salvation for the nation? And isn’t that pretty much the definition of fascism? (For the distinctions between fascism, totalitarianism, and authoritarianism, see: https://www.thoughtco.com/totalitarianism-authoritarianism-fascism-4147699)

I also think that many people who continue to support the current administration are so deeply caught up in the whirlwind of manipulative deception that they can’t extricate themselves. I don’t get it, but maybe it’s all just too exciting. I pray that these folks will find the courage to break free of the cult-like hold that Trump, Miller, Homan, Vance, Noem, Hegseth, Fox, Newsmax, OAN, and etc. have imposed on them.

Finally, I know for sure that some still honestly believe that this administration is moving in the right direction and is justified in achieving its goals by any means necessary. I can only guess they interpret the chaos around us as empowering. When confronted, though, many can give only one feeble argument: “Well, Biden and Obama were worse.” To me, that argument is not simply wrong, it is denial. And when denial becomes one’s justification for supporting violent fascism, we can expect more and more murders of American citizens on American streets by armed federal agents who are unhindered by constitutional constraint.

Heather Cox Richardson has said that there will always be about 20% of an electorate that will go along with whatever extremism du jour happens to infest a country. These folks are all neighbors and family members, and they’ll always be around. Always. We will never not have to deal with each other.

Again, in my opinion, Trump has disgraced, diminished, and endangered our nation, and continues to lead us along his destructive path. Even if we are not completely beyond repair, we will never return to what we remember. Ever. And who knows? Maybe we’ll be better off in the long run. Maybe, if we survive, we’ll have learned what can happen when a tyrannical government is given free rein to do violence and to impose its nefarious will. And maybe we’ll set up safeguards against such abuses of power in the future.

I hope you hear the irony in that statement since that’s exactly what the Declaration of Independence, the American Revolution, and the Constitution of the United States of American were supposed to protest, end, and prevent. We’ve come full circle, haven’t we?

Finally, and most importantly, I completely trust that if we try to end Trump administration’s assault on our nation by meeting their violence with an equally violent force, they win, because violence survives to beget more violence. And violence doesn’t care who’s in power so long as someone uses force to control someone else. Indeed, there’s nothing more that a horde of fragile-egoed bullies wants than a perceived win. They will stop at nothing. As long as Trump occupies the White House, we cannot expect them to concede anything—nothing physical, moral, ethical, spiritual, political, or economic. For the fascist mindset, to relent, to listen, to change or to be changed—in theological terms: to repent—is to show weakness. It also seems that to confess error somehow indicates a flaw more loathsome that actual defeat.

All that said, and here’s the catch, how a society overcomes such a force will define how it sets itself up going forward. If we employ violent means to defeat violence, we will set ourselves up for more violence. It is, therefore, my hope that we must resist by the means of fearless, even death-defying non-violence, means of peace, cooperation, collaboration, welcome, inclusion, and respect. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (whose memorial day the White House deliberately ignored) said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

The love of which King spoke is not the distorted love of those who declare their love of country by standing up for the inherently violent and idolatrous cocktail of “God, Guns, and Guts.” And it’s certainly not the saccharine love that Hollywood peddles for financial gain. King and others like him speak of God’s love for all Creation as demonstrated through Jesus of Nazareth. No one is excluded from this love. Not Renee Good, not Alex Pretti, not the ICE agents who murdered them, not the administration who unleashed them, not the protestors who continue to speak out on behalf of the neighbors being persecuted by the state. All are loved.

God’s love is hard, though. And when we try to love according to some “God, Guns, and Guts” narrative or to the low-bar selfishness of the Hallmark Channel, to love as we are loved by God will feel a lot like either irresponsibility or like way too much responsibility. Neither approach tolerates the demands of Christ-like honesty, humility, forgiveness, and reconciliation. And doesn’t that make that kind of “love” something less that loving?

We have our work cut out for us. This will be a long haul of resistance and recovery. Thank you to all who, following the call of love, are speaking out in the face of a fresh advance of tyranny to remind the world that America is still—at least for a while—the “land of the free and the home of the brave.” I stand with you in this land, a land where freedom and bravery are evidenced not by exclusion and oppression but by:

-Welcoming all voices and empowering and expecting those voices to engage in both difficult conversation and humble compromise;

-Seeking justice for all human beings and for the environment;

-And upholding our defining truths which include the equality of all human beings, the free access of all people to the unalienable rights of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and the truth that a government’s legitimacy is best determined by its willingness to seek the consent of those who are governed.

Thank you to all who have taken an oath to defend our Constitution and who remain faithful to that oath in the face of pressure to confuse loyalty to country with loyalty to a person.

And thank you to folks like Renee Good (“That’s fine, dude, I’m not mad at you.”), Alex Pretti (“Don’t touch her…Are you okay?”) We will forget neither your non-violent witness nor your last words. May God cover your families, and all of us, with peace.

Resist in Peace,

Allen

Becoming the Counter Flood (Not a Reference to Hurricane Helene)

The current President is not well. And his administration is making me physically ill. My body is tight all the time. My mind overwhelmed by concern.

I don’t expect anyone to care that much about my personal feelings, of course. And I’m no longer terribly concerned about how anyone else feels about me. However, for those who are feeling similar things, know that you are not alone. And we need each other.

What do we do with this anger, angst, and grief, though? One place to start is to remember that we feel that way by design—by a design that is as targeted and premeditated as the Oval Office mugging of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy.

Back in 2016 Steve Bannon clearly stated that he would help Trump rise to power by “flooding the zone.” That’s his term for throwing as much wild, incomprehensible aggression as possible at the public so that we are either stunned into a bewildered and paralyzed silence, or we jump on board a train that seems to be moving toward some inevitable “victory.”

“That’s the Bannon business model,” writes CNN’s Brian Stelter. “Flood the zone. Stink up the joint. As Jonathan Rauch once said…‘This is not about persuasion: This is about disorientation.’” (https://www.cnn.com/2021/11/16/media/steve-bannon-reliable-sources/index.html)

Since January 20^th, we’ve seen nothing but disorienting flooding from the White House. So far, the administration has been getting significant—and much-deserved—blowback. And if We the People don’t continue to oppose this corrupt and anti-American administration, if we don’t band together to continue pressuring our democratically-elected senators and representatives to stand up for democracy, and to support each other in our efforts, we may no longer be a constitutional republic, because this administration will not relent in its deconstruction of the United States of America. And yes, if the flood goes unchecked, we certainly could become an autocracy run by the wealthiest members of our society. And this collapse can happen far more quickly than one might think. The opening act, already well underway, is to gut our institutions.

One early target is our schools. The far-right touts the voucher system for its “fairness,” which is anything but fair. Vouchers only give the wealthy greater advantage, leaving the masses of children to be fed propaganda rather than given an education. (https://www.understood.org/en/articles/school-vouchers-what-you-need-to-know) The purpose is to keep us from thinking for ourselves so that we accept their “leadership” as some sort of magnanimous gift. Indeed, the Vice President calls it the development of a new “ruling class” to replace the current ruling class. (https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/politics/unless-we-overthrow-them-j-d-vance-says-we-are-going-to-keep-losing/ar-BB1qJYOX) I’m not entirely sure what current ruling class he’s talking about, since the very wealthy already seem to control so much in our culture. (Isn’t the presence of Elon Musk in the White House an obvious indication of that reality?) Once a “never Trumper,” the Vice President has completely conceded himself to his new master. And one way for him to manipulate others into the MAGA scheme is to help ensure poor and tightly-controlled education for all of us peons.

If that sounds like hyperbole, read again the current President’s post from March 4. In that little screed he threatened to cut federal funding from colleges and universities that allowed “illegal protests.” The threat included warnings of arrests, imprisonments, and deportations. (https://thehill.com/homenews/education/5174865-trump-college-university-funding-student-protests/) While he can always say he was talking about “illegal” protests only, this is a very thinly-veiled threat against the constitutional freedoms of speech and assembly, because for Trump, “illegal” simply means in opposition to him. That is textbook authoritarianism. And the authoritarian is grasping for control of the textbooks.

Friends, MAGA is going to keep flooding the zone as long as it can. It’s all-or-nothing for them. And anyone who disagrees with them is the enemy. It’s funny. In MAGA’s myopic vision, even I (a former small-town pastor who is unemployed and apparently unemployable) am a greater threat to the United States than Russia!

I’m flattered.

Let’s be realistic. Guided by its Project 2025 playbook, and by every little victory it can claim (whether legitimate or not), this administration is going to keep the pressure coming. So:

-Let’s stick together and become the counter flood.

-Let’s keep applying our own constitutionally-guaranteed pressure to our senators and representatives.

-Let’s take really good care of ourselves physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

-Let’s take good care of our neighbors, too. Especially those who are still committed to Trump. When all comes to the light, they’ll need us to help them find safe space for a hard landing. One wouldn’t know it by the actions of the current administration, but true Americans don’t abandon other Americans—not even when they passionately disagree.

-Above all, let’s don’t lose hope. To lose hope is to surrender and allow the floodwaters sweep us away. We simply can’t do that. For better or worse, it is now our responsibility to do our very best for the generations coming after us. Everything we do today is for their tomorrow.

Thank you, Bishop Budde

It’s Wednesday afternoon. January 22, 2025. Earlier today, I received a message from an acquaintance saying that I reminded them of Bishop Mariann Budde, “someone else,” they said, “who brought politics into their sermons.

“Some folks NEVER learn,” they said.

—–

Yesterday, at a nationally broadcast prayer service in Washington DC, before a congregation of political dignitaries, some of whom appearing as excited to be in church as your average middle-schooler, Bishop Budde calmly implored the new President to “show mercy” to those who are scared right now—specifically, to members of the immigrant and the LGBTQ communities. Some of Trump’s recent executive orders declare the administration’s intent to renew efforts to humiliate and ostracize these neighbors whom Jesus calls us to welcome and to love.

Respecting the office and authority of the President of the United States, and aware of the potential repercussions from a man whose campaign was predicated on greed, fear, and revenge, the Rev. Dr. Budde demonstrated to all of us what Jesus-following courage and grace look like.

Pleading for mercy on behalf of groups of people being targeted for deportation and/or discrimination hardly meets the standard of what the President has since called a “nasty tone.” Bishop Budde’s thoughtful and measured words were also utterly faithful to Jesus, who spoke and acted in the same way on behalf of similarly marginalized people in his own context two millennia ago.

Mr. President, I know you won’t read this blog post, but I have to say, Jesus started this, not Dr. Budde. You have now heard the Gospel. And while some folks may never learn, for the good of our nation, I genuinely pray that you do.

—–

It seems to me that any presentation of the Gospel that fails to motivate hearers to action consistent with the radical welcome and transforming love of Jesus is, all in all, less-than-faithful to Jesus. And if it doesn’t motivate us to faithful action, shouldn’t it, as it obviously did for the President (and the Vice President), at least disquiet or even offend us?

How we approach our interior life of faith shapes how we express that faith in our exterior existence. And that outward expression necessarily includes political action because the fruits of Jesus-inspired action include working for justice on behalf of those who do not have the voice or the means to speak or act for themselves. To separate the interior from the exterior—in preaching as well as daily living—leads to the comfortable but vacuous dualism called hypocrisy.

Almost inevitably, hypocrisy leads to irrelevance. And I consider that the Church’s fundamental struggle today.

Last June, I retired from my role as preacher and pastor. And the comment I referred to a few moments ago came from someone with whom I have not interacted in years. So, it seems that this person went out of their way to try to upset me. Now, I didn’t enjoy receiving that message. It arrived not only out of the blue, but in an impersonal format and clearly intended as a personal insult. I would also be lying if I denied the quick surge of adrenaline that made me consider responding with a sniping comment of my own. That, however, would only energize the person toward deeper resentment. It would also make me an affront to rather than a servant of the Gospel. (Some may wonder if the person might simply have wanted my attention. I suppose that’s possible, but past experience with them suggests otherwise.)

As I’ve processed all of this, I could not feel more affirmed and grateful than to have been put in the same category as Bishop Budde who, trusting that, as Jesus said, those with ears [will] hear, took the great risk of personally and publicly speaking Jesus-following truth to unrepentant servants of greed and violent power. Indeed, that message has become, to me, reminiscent of the time Sen. Mitch McConnell thought he was excoriating Rep. Elizabeth Warren and excluding her from speaking during a confirmation hearing by saying, repeatedly, “nevertheless, she persisted,” only to hear that phrase coming back at him as a rallying cry that energized feminists in their quest for justice and equality.

The President has demanded an apology from Bishop Budde. She will not apologize for faithfully preaching the Gospel.

Neither will I.

Thank you, Bishop Budde.

January 20, 2025 — Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

January 20, 2025

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

I have a rudimentary understanding of what Carl Jung called our “shadow”—that part of ourselves, that energy within that we judge, deny, and repress. I also understand that Shadow, as profoundly individual and personal as it may be for each of us, has its strongest hold on us when we subconsciously recognize it in others and project all of our self-loathing onto that other person or group and treat them with spite, vengeance, and disgust. To take that route, it is, ultimately, to diminish, or even destroy, ourselves.

I’m struggling with Shadow today. Struggling furiously. It has me by the throat. It makes me want to scream. To get “even.” (What would that even look like?) I don’t want today to be real, but it is. So, how am I to live into the coming four (or, God help us, more) years ahead?

By gracious coincidence, today is also Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. And if anyone in recent memory demonstrated faith, hope, and love in the face of abuse, tyranny, and violence, it was Dr. King. He reminds us that the worst of ourselves is never our whole selves. And if that’s true for me, then it is also true for those who mirror back to me my own shadow energy—even the deepest most shameful aspects of my shadow.

So, if I am to love my neighbor as myself, that is, if I am to love my neighbor in such a way as to love the me I see in him/her—even when all I see is my own, shadow-shocked self—mustn’t I find some way to love that person/group, and thus myself, toward wholeness, toward justice, toward peace? Isn’t that the love both Jesus and Dr. King taught and lived?

On August 28, 1963, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, to a crowd of nearly 250,000 people crammed onto the National Mall, Dr. King delivered his still-relevant I Have a Dream speech. Within that memorable address he said:

“We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice.

“It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment…But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

“The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

“We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

“We cannot turn back.”*

Specifically, Dr. King’s speech addressed racism and the ongoing injustice of segregation. For me, in the urgent Now of January 2025, King’s words continue to speak to the fundamental nature of a democracy, to the call to justice, and to the basic human rights which ALL human beings deserve. I believe that, in our current global context, democracy, justice, and human rights, not to mention simple human decency, face monumental challenges. While hardly new, these challenges have been reinvigorated. And with the decline of civility and reverence for truth, and with rise of the manipulative power of an unfiltered social media, it will be harder than ever to cross today’s equivalent of the Edmund Pettus Bridge and face the powers that be with a justice-seeking love that is as fearless and determined as it is compassionate and hopeful.

I wish I had concrete answers about how to move forward. God knows I need answers myself. However you and I may manifest what Dr. King called a “marvelous new militancy,” may we all be guided by the “soul force” ways of Jesus—ways that build toward a new future, a future grounded in risk-taking trust, one-on-one, Shadow-taming relationship with neighbor, wonder-soaked love of the Earth, liberating and transforming forgiveness, fresh thanksgiving, relentless hope, and, because struggle is inevitable, and because there is no true joy for one until there is true joy for all, conflict that is as non-violent as it is unyielding.

And may we start now.

*https://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm

Wholeheartedness

Today is July 23, 2024. On June 23, I led worship and preached for the last time as an installed pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). And the last four weeks have slipped by quickly—no surprise to someone who has celebrated sixty-one birthdays. As one ages, the flow of time seems to intensify the way a river’s current intensifies when the water approaches a series of rapids or a falls. It pulls with an urgency, at some point, becomes impossible to resist. Having said that, the days have not exactly hastened by, either. Since my resignation from parish ministry, I have felt the drift of time more than the frenetic, care-laden scurry to which I had become accustomed, which had become normal, and which had exhausted me.

On the morning of Monday, July 8, I was packing my motorcycle for a trip to the North Carolina mountains. A week earlier I had driven a car to the mountain house to leave some things that wouldn’t fit on my bike—my spare guitar, a stash of food, and a few other non-motorcycle-friendly necessities. Moments before leaving, my sister wheeled up in her bright red car to check in. Being a spiritual director and dream worker, she brought three books and offered them as potentially helpful for someone who has just left one career path and is entering the frontier of between time. I had already packed two books, but I looked at the three new possibilities. One just didn’t stir anything in me. The one by Parker Palmer I had read twice before. Then I scanned the table of contents of Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity. (Riverhead Books, 2001) The book is poet David Whyte’s reflection on work and vocation. I had planned to be away only two or three nights, and with space on a motorcycle being what it is (or rather isn’t!), I replaced one of the books I’d packed with Whyte’s volume. That last-second substitution has proven wonderfully helpful.

I’m still reading Whyte’s book—slowly and deliberately. He shares many personal experiences and insights that invite his readers to sit and contemplate, to make connections in our own lives, to re-imagine ourselves and our place in the world as it changes and as we change. In one particularly moving passage, Whyte shares a conversation he has with a mentor, a monk named Brother David. After having made an unnerving but profoundly revealing mistake at work, Whyte contacted Brother David and asked him to come visit. The two men sat at Whyte’s kitchen table sipping wine, reading poetry to each other, and talking. Finally, David Whyte cut to the chase and said, “Brother David, tell me about exhaustion.”

With tremendous compassion and wisdom, Brother David looked at his friend and said, “You know, the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest…The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.”

Brother David’s words and stopped me and caused me to sit in silence for a long time. “The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.”

At the farewell party my congregation held for me on the Saturday before my final Sunday, someone spoke about how “tirelessly” I had worked. When it was my turn to say a few words, I thanked the person who had made that observation. And I had to add that if I had worked tirelessly in that congregation over the last thirteen-and-a-half years, my weight of twenty-eight years of ministry had rendered me simply tired. There’s really no off button on congregational ministry. Add to that the stressors of a chaotic political climate, the complexities of leading a congregation through a global pandemic, and the questions that continuously gurgle up from one’s own personal growth and transformations, and I found myself swimming across an intensifying current and becoming more and more exhausted. It was time to lie back and allow the river to take me.

While I don’t know where the current will lead, David Whyte’s own struggle helps me to realize that I’m entering more than a metaphorical wilderness. I’m entering an entirely new kind of wildness. His conversation with Brother David also helps me to realize that, instead of praying for this job or that job, my true prayer is for a fresh, new-born wholeheartedness. I have experienced similar things before—in 1996 when I was ordained and installed in my first congregation, and again in 2002 and 2010 when I was installed in my second and third congregations. While I don’t sense a call for to a new pastorate, I do trust that it’s time for new energy, new things to experience and to contribute. It’s time for new work and new life.

A few years ago, I wrote a song with the not-so-original title of The River. The song ends with the river itself encouraging us to remember that “To be grateful, giving, and free [i.e., to experience the full liveliness and holiness of our humanity]/Is to love the River inside you, and to welcome the welcoming sea.”

May your own Rivers be trustworthy, and your Oceans deep havens of welcome and grace.

Thank You! (Final JPC Newsletter)

April 15, 1996 was a Monday. It was also my first day as pastor of Cross Roads Presbyterian Church in Mebane, NC—my first congregation. I had completed seminary classes, passed the ordination exams, and moved my family to a town none of us had ever heard of until a couple of months earlier. I hadn’t even been through graduation. That event would take place several weeks later; and about all I remember of graduation was the terrible stomach bug I had. Sweating beneath my cap and gown, and oblivious to all the speakers and drama, I managed to sit for the duration of the ceremony, but just barely.

On April 15, 1996, I hadn’t been ordained, either. I was incredibly green. Indeed, I was prepared only by virtue of having completed classes and paperwork. Nonetheless, on the day when Caesar gets his due, I began trying to give to God what was God’s. So, I went to work. (I even wore a tie that day. That one day. Leaving off the tie—except for Sundays, funerals, and weddings—was a lesson I learned quickly and only too gratefully.)

Over my career in congregational ministry, I, like exactly everyone else, never did anything perfectly. But by June 23, 2024, I think I had developed some competency at my pastoral vocation. If I had it to do over, sure, I’d do some things differently; but if I altered anything significantly, I may not have come to Jonesborough, TN. To be with you, Jonesborough Presbyterian Church. And that’s something I can’t imagine having missed this experience.

From October 4, 2010, my first Monday at JPC, you have welcomed my family and me with grace, generosity, love, and good humor. With those same characteristic traits, we worked together, witnessing to God’s realm of grace. And when it was time, you released me to whatever it is to which God is calling me next. And while there are no words to offer adequate thanks—Thank You!

As I mentioned a moment ago, not everything has gone as smoothly as we would have liked. For the most part, however, we’ve managed to squeeze lemonade out of the rough patches. And isn’t that the point? The faith communities God assembles are made up of human beings who are finite and fallible. We get scared and tired, and things go awry. And yet, by grace, through faith, we manage. We confess, forgive, heal, and move forward.

Jonesborough Presbyterians, thank you for being YOU. Thank you for being welcoming, faithful, good-humored, and patient with me and with each other. God is apparent in you and real through you. Your witness in this community may not be the loudest. (We are, after all, Presbyterians!) That witness, though, is unmistakably bright, steady, and transforming. You, JPC, are blessed to be a blessing, and you are making a tangible difference in your community and the world. I’ve always said that Jonesborough does community well, and JPC helps to lead in that excellence. My prayer is that you seize that gift and pray for, work toward, and expect God to lead to you someone who will continue the good work in you. (Phil. 1:6)

Marianne and I are overwhelmed at the outpouring of joy and gratitude you have expressed since I announced my retirement. The celebrations of June 22 and 23 will remain treasured memories forever. Thank you for the many, many cards, gifts, and other expressions of love. And when this danged Covid lets go of us, we look forward to seeing you around town. (How grateful we are that it waited until after the 23^rd to rear its head!)

The Lord bless you and keep you.

The Lord be kind and gracious to you,

and to others through you,

now and always.

Allen

Summing It Up (Sermon)

“Summing It Up”*

Micah 6:6-8 and John 13:34-35

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

6/23/24

⁶“With what shall I come before the Lord

and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,

with calves a year old?
⁷Will the Lord be pleased

with thousands of rams,

with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,

the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
⁸He has told you, O mortal, what is good,

and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice and to love kindness

and to walk humbly with your God?

³⁴I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. ³⁵By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Eugene Peterson was a Presbyterian pastor, seminary professor, and writer. While he wrote a number of books, he’s best remembered for his paraphrase of the Bible entitled The Message.

Peterson was also a dad, and he and his one of his sons, Leif, had a running joke. The joke was that, for all his years preaching and teaching, the elder Peterson had “only one real sermon.”¹

“It’s almost laughable,” said Leif at his dad’s funeral in 2018, “how you fooled them, how for 30 years every week you made them think you were saying something new.

“They didn’t know how simple it all was. They were blind to your secret.” That secret, said Leif, was that he preached “same message over and over…‘God loves you.’”²

Leif said that his dad wanted him, and everyone, to trust that God is with us, loving us relentlessly. That was the bottom line. And that was Eugene Peterson’s sermon.

I’m not the scholar and author Eugene Peterson was, but I think that, like him, I have “only one real sermon.” And when preaching last Easter, I felt more acutely than ever that I was saying what I had said some 1200 times before. And my one sermon, which is similar to Eugene Peterson’s, is an attempt to restate what we just read in the passages from Micah and John.

God “has told you…what is good,” says Micah, “and what does the Lord require…but to do justice…love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.” And in John, Jesus tells his disciples, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”

Do justice. Biblical justice demands far more of us than obeying commandments and punishing those who occasionally break them. The justice to which Micah and other prophets refer is restorative justice—the justice predicated on God’s redemptive and reconciling love. So, when people are hungry, to love justice means feeding them. When people are systemically exploited, abused, and ignored, doing justice means naming the problem and helping reshape human systems so that everyone has the opportunity to recognize and enjoy their own God-imaged humanity. And that’s something we cannot do individually. As a holy gift, our God-imaged is something we realize through relationship. So, the surest way to recognize and enjoy the image of God within ourselves, is to seek it in others, to honor it, and then to mirror it between and among us in community.

Learning kindness is foundational to doing justice. Far more challenging than “being nice,” biblical kindness involves compassion and empathy. Kindness recognizes not only that everyone struggles in this life, but the less obvious reality that when any of us struggle, we all struggle, because when even one part of the body suffers the whole body suffers.

Kindness recognizes our interconnectedness, our interdependence. Kindness, says one educator, requires incredible courage and strength, because it moves us “from me to we.”²

And how do we open ourselves to God’s kindness? I think Micah would say that we do that by practicing humility. And that means confessing that in God’s all-loving and all-redeeming eye, there’s not one of us who can claim superiority over another. And when we, nonetheless, try to live that way, we fragment ourselves into homogenous, fear-bound groups, and we almost always end up doing injustice, loving unkindness, and walking away from God in prideful arrogance.

When we pray the prayer of confession on Sunday mornings, that is the unfaithfulness we confess. That is the life Jesus calls us to lose so that we can embrace the life in which we love as we are loved.

Over the years, I’ve become convinced that the love Jesus teaches and demonstrates is predicated on Micah’s God-centered ethos that moves from humility, into kindness, and culminates in holy justice. In this movement—which beautifully parallels the beatitudes—justice actively seeks the well-being of all people, and of the whole. And justice-seekers recognize that working for the well-being of neighbors is to work for one’s own well-being.

In the 18^th century, the Scottish economist Adam Smith said that a free-market system is, on the surface, an amalgamation of individuals seeking their own self-interest. That self-interest gets tempered by, what he called, an invisible hand which somehow makes everything work out just right for everyone. Frankly, I think that’s kind of suspicious logic. Almost inevitably, individuals seeking their own self-interest collude with others pursuing the same goal to create systems which always shift advantage and power toward those who hold increasingly disproportionate wealth. Those societies become consumed by injustice, cruelty, and pride. And whatever is loving or Christlike within those societies emerges as a prophetic voice calling for repentance—that is to say, calling for justice, kindness, and humility and the well-being of the whole.

It seems to me, then, what we often call “social justice” is God’s holy justice. It’s God acting through those who pursue justice—even through those who are not motivated by a biblical call to love. As Jesus says in Mark, “Whoever is not against us is for us.” (Mark 9:40)

So yes, I think Jesus lived and taught Micah’s ethos of justice, kindness, and humility. This ethos of prophetic love can be hindered momentarily, and when that happens, all will look and feel bleak. Throughout history there have been countless eras during which the clouds of injustice, cruelty, and pride have caught the thermals of greed, fear, and nationalism and risen to ascendance. In those crucial moments, God’s beloved community of grace is called to gather its courage, to speak, and to act. And the community doesn’t merely protest. It distinguishes itself as a voice of love, as a presence of welcome, inclusion, and reconciliation.

To some extent, every era is just such an era. Because of that, the Church is always called to be a place of prophetic grace. Our buildings, our policies and protocols, our investments and vestments may have their place, but when we care for them at the expense of our call to do justice, love kindness, and to walk humbly with God, isn’t that to abandon holiness and hope?

So, friends, this is my sermon: God, through Jesus Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit has graced us with God’s image and God’s trust. God has empowered us to be, not an invisible hand, but God’s intentionally visible hands and feet and hearts in the world, for the world—a world that God loves purely, personally, and relentlessly. And by loving as Jesus loves us, we are embraced by Resurrection, and we inhabit the eternal realm of God. Right here. Right now. In the midst of one another. In the midst of Creation’s most ordinary and yet most holy realities.

I’ve tried to say that in lots of ways. I hope it came through.

You’re probably ready for, and due, a new sermon. And whatever it may be, may we all continue to embody God’s love by doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God.

In God’s Beloved Community.

Thanks be to God.

¹https://www.christianpost.com/news/eugene-petersons-son-reveals-his-father-fooled-everyone-had-only-one-real-sermon-for-the-world.html

²Ibid.

³https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/everyday-resilience/202303/the-remarkable-power-of-kindness-and-why-it-matters

*This was my final sermon at Jonesborough Presbyterian Church. As of July 1, 2024, I will retire from congregational ministry and move on to whatever God may have in store for me. I do hope to continue this blog, though entries will no longer—or at least seldom—be sermons. May God’s peace be with you all. Allen

The Ethos of Blessedness (Sermon)

“The Ethos of Blessedness”

Psalm 34:1-10, 22 and Matthew 5:1-12

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

6/16/24

¹I will bless the Lord at all times;
    his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
²My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
    let the humble hear and be glad.
³O magnify the Lord with me,
    and let us exalt his name together.

⁴I sought the Lord, and he answered me
    and delivered me from all my fears.
⁵Look to him, and be radiant,
    so your faces shall never be ashamed.
⁶This poor soul cried and was heard by the Lord
    and was saved from every trouble.
⁷The angel of the Lord encamps
    around those who fear him and delivers them.
⁸O taste and see that the Lord is good;
    happy are those who take refuge in him.
⁹O fear the Lord, you his holy ones,
    for those who fear him have no want.
¹⁰The young lions suffer want and hunger,
    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

²²The Lord redeems the life of his servants;
none of those who take refuge in him will be

condemned. (NRSV)

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. ²And he began to speak and taught them, saying:

³“Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

⁴“Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted.

⁵“Blessed are the meek,

for they will inherit the earth.

⁶“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they will be filled.

⁷“Blessed are the merciful,

for they will receive mercy.

⁸“Blessed are the pure in heart,

for they will see God.

⁹“Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they will be called children of God.

¹⁰“Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of

righteousness

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

¹¹“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.

¹²Rejoice and be glad,

for your reward is great in heaven,

for in the same way they persecuted

the prophets who were before you. (NRSV)

Since I’ve been in Jonesborough, one three-word phrase has become a common punch line: Bless your heart. Just a reminder: In the south, to bless someone’s heart is not always a compliment. It’s code for, Friend, you ain’t got the sense God gave a lug nut.

From members of this church, I have received two pillows and one paperweight with Bless Your Heart written or stitched on them. So, honestly, I’ve probably overdone it and created a monster that will never die.

“Blessing” has become a slippery concept. Whether in condescending idiom, a verbal pat on the head after a sneeze, or some winning team’s locker room where God’s name is taken in vain more dangerously and tediously than it ever has in genuine anger and pain, we have so trivialized and materialized the idea of blessedness that the Beatitudes may ring hollow in our over-blessed/under-blessed ears.

In Luke, Jesus offers his most famous sermon on a “level place,” where every valley is lifted up, every hill is made low, and everyone stands on equal footing.

In Matthew, Jesus goes up a mountain. Matthew wants us to imagine Jesus as the second Moses, high and lifted up, and giving a new Torah. But Jesus does not give commandments. He pronounces particular blessings on particular people who seem anything but blessed. In doing so, Jesus peels back the eschatological curtain and scandalizes human reason. He reveals that the realm of God does not arrive in glorious conquest but through “the least of these.”

Do you want to know true blessedness? says Jesus. Then look at “the poor in spirit…theirs is the kingdom of heaven. [Look at] those who mourn…the meek…those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…the merciful…the peacemakers…” Look at them and see God!

True blessedness begins with what Frederick Buechner calls “The Magnificent Defeat”—God’s radical and painfully gracious overcoming of the soul-rust of pride, fear, selfishness, and anything else that blocks the doors of humility and gratitude.¹ “The Magnificent Defeat” was a sermon Buechner preached on Jacob wrestling that mysterious stranger on the banks of the Jabbok, a struggle that Jacob finally concedes, with one condition: “I will not let you go,” he says, “unless you bless me.”

The liberty of blessedness begins in the sheer stillness of defeat, and the unwelcome awareness that we cannot create lasting freedom and wholeness by ourselves. The Beatitudes reveal the path of radical Christian spirituality, the path of subversive love, the path by which the human heart, mind, and spirit move from the immaturity of an ego-centric existence toward the freedom and wholeness of intimate reunion with God through the embodied prayer of relationship with neighbor and earth.

Brian McLaren, teacher, pastor, author, and now dean of the faculty at the Center for Action and Contemplation, views the Beatitudes as foundational for understanding our God-imaged selves and our mission as disciples of Jesus. To illustrate how revolutionary the Beatitudes are, McLaren has written his own version of the opposite of each beatitude. Listen to a few of his anti-beatitudes; and beware, while some are tongue-in-cheek, others have teeth:

Blessed are the rich and successful, for they shall consume more than their fair share.

Blessed are those who laugh, for they shall inherit amusement.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for status, for they will be full of themselves.

Blessed are those who launch preemptive attacks, because they will never be bored or caught off guard.

Blessed are those who persecute others for righteousness’ sake, for they have a great future in talk radio…

And blessed are you when people honor you and flatter you and give you all kinds of extraordinary compensation on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great right now in the religious-industrial complex, and in the same way, they celebrated the inquisitors before you.²

“What [we] consider blessed,” says McLaren, “will be the ethos [we] desire and imitate.”

By definition, ethos refers to a culture’s accepted ways of thinking, and being in relationship.

“[Our] ethos,” says McLaren, “will determine [our] ethics…[and] our ethics will create our future.”³

Any future that depends on an ethos of consumerism, militarism, authoritarianism, or winner-take-all triumphalism is a future that will not hold. For proof, look at the Roman Empire, the British Empire, the Ottoman Empire, European colonialism, German fascism. Just ask American slave owners and carpetbaggers alike.

Whenever human institutions equate blessedness with individual privilege and tribal supremacy over others, they will be consumed by consumption and humiliated by pride. And they’ll never hear Jesus’ call to poverty of spirit, to meekness and mercy. They’ll never follow him into the costly and rigorous work of helping to create more peaceable and just communities.

Friends, hear the Good News: The Beatitudes convey the very power of resurrection for humankind. They give us the means by which to die to self. Then they breathe new and lasting life back into us.

When working as an attorney in South Africa in the 1890’s, a young Hindu from India named Mohandas Gandhi recognized the blessedness of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. He decided that if Christians really followed that teaching, he wanted in. So, one Sunday, Gandhi wandered into a Christian church. And immediately, the dark-skinned immigrant was physically thrown out into the street. One can only imagine that afterward, the congregation inside that building proceeded to sing praises and offer prayers to the God of love. Who is being revealed in Jesus. Who preaches the Sermon on the Mount.

While Gandhi did not become Christian, one would be hard-pressed to find another human being in the last 140 years who more fully and more graciously embodied an enriching poverty of spirit; who mourned humanity’s brokenness with healing love; who felt an aching hunger and thirst for righteousness for all humankind; who possessed a world-transforming meekness and a luxuriant purity of heart; who displayed a fierce and often disruptive commitment to peace; and who endured persecution with such determined love for those who persecuted him.

It seems to me that Gandhi recognized Jesus’ point better than most people in the power-coddled, post-Constantinian Church ever did—that point being that God calls and empowers us to become an eschatological community of diverse individuals who come together, intentionally, to live into a healing and redeeming relationship with God and with all Creation.

Our purpose is to live the ethos of true Blessedness, the life of Resurrection—the life of humility, simplicity, and grateful service.

In living the ethos of true Blessedness, we become more fully human, and more fully the Body of Christ. And we discover that being that Body means inhabiting, through better and worse, and for the sake of others, the mystery of God’s eternal realm, which is our true home—our past, present, and future home.

¹Frederick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat, Harper Collins, 1966, pp10-18.

²http://www.slideshare.net/brianmclaren/getting-blessed-new

³Ibid.

Surviving Temptation (Sermon)

“Surviving Temptation”

Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16 Luke 4:1-13

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

6/9/24

¹You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
²will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust.”

⁹Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
the Most High your dwelling place,
¹⁰no evil shall befall you,
no scourge come near your tent.

¹¹For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways.
¹²On their hands they will bear you up,
    so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.
¹³You will tread on the lion and the adder;
    the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.

¹⁴Those who love me, I will deliver;
    I will protect those who know my name.
¹⁵When they call to me, I will answer them;
    I will be with them in trouble;
    I will rescue them and honor them.
¹⁶With long life I will satisfy them
    and show them my salvation. (NRSV)

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, ²where for forty days he was tested by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over he was famished. ³The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”

⁴Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”

⁵Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. ⁶And the devil said to him, “To you I will give all this authority and their glory, for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. ⁷If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” ⁸Jesus answered him, “It is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,
and serve only him.’”

⁹Then the devil led him to Jerusalem and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, ¹⁰for it is written,

‘He will command his angels concerning you,
to protect you,’

¹¹and

‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”

¹²Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

¹³When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time. (NRSV)

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness is a watershed experience. It defines him personally, spiritually, vocationally. Surviving the temptation leads Jesus to say things like: “Blessed are the poor…Love your neighbor…Love your enemies…Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them…[and] Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing…”

The story of Jesus’ temptation challenges us to confess the uncomfortable truth that many things we’ve learned to regard as signs of blessedness are exactly the things about which Jesus says, “Woe to you!”

In the wilderness, Jesus does more than reject offerings of material wealth, political power, and fame. He declares that the very things the Caesars and Herods of the world uphold as signs of greatness and divine blessing do far more to hinder than to encourage faithful discipleship.

Still, whether it’s some lavish “crystal cathedral,” or nationalistic rhetoric from Christian pulpits, or a high-profile pastor using his charisma to use his congregation to buy him a 70 million-dollar Gulfstream jet, the heresy-breeding attitudes of excess, of violent theology, and of celebrity worship are alive and well today.

Those things can get our attention. They can tempt us, seduce us. And when they convince us that we’re entitled to them, we no longer hear Jesus’ still, smallvoice saying something entirely different. So, we distort the spiritual gifts and the energies we were given for loving God into means of personal gain.

Another cautionary tale from the story of Jesus’ temptation is that temptation hits us hardest when we’re least prepared to resist.

Jesus has fasted for days and days. His body is weak; his mind is vulnerable. When depleted, a person becomes open to virtually any suggestion. The same is true when our collective minds are weakened by fear. That’s why, for untold centuries, human beings have tortured each other for information, for revenge, and, when we’re at our absolute worst, for some kind of hideous satisfaction. And things like starvation and sleep deprivation are common techniques used by psychopaths and governments.

Sapped by the self-imposed hunger of fasting, Jesus confronts real possibilities—actions that can make him comfortable, powerful, and popular. He can make people flock to his side, willing to lie and kill for him. Remember Peter. Starving for security and for revenge against Rome, he falls prey to temptation in the Garden of Gethsemane. When he draws a sword and tries to kill for Jesus, Jesus makes it clear that to kill for him is to deny him and to abandon him.

Jesus expects more from his followers. Even when it seems impossible, Jesus still calls us at least to strive for the same spiritual strength against temptation that he demonstrates in the wilderness. And how do we do that? Especially when we’re famished, anxious, and vulnerable?

In the wilderness, Jesus has been fasting from protein and carbs. And when weakened by hunger and tempted to live a life at the mercy of devilish appetites, he reaches into his spiritual pantry and brings out scripture.

When tempted to turn rocks into bread—that is, to reduce the Creation to a mere commodity to be exploited—Jesus says, “One does not live by bread alone.” We’re more than our wants and needs, he says. We’re children of God. And God is trustworthy.

Then Jesus is tempted to reach not just for political power, but for domination. To rule the world, all he has to do is sell his soul to The Author of Lies, and everything will be under his feet. But that will make him just another Caesar or Herod, and just another pawn on the devil’s chessboard.

“Worship [and serve only] the Lord your God,” says Jesus. The strength and influence that matter come from grateful and humble devotion to God alone.

Maybe Old Scratch doesn’t like being down 2-0. So, he cherry picks a line from Psalm 91, a song about God never letting anything bad happen to God’s faithful ones. That pipe dream has never ever been part of anyone’s faith experience. Nor is the poet encouraging anyone to jump off of a building. He’s reminding us that, come what may—bitter suffering or blessed peace—God is faithfully present and can be trusted to see us through even the most painful experiences, and to redeem them.

Trust God in all things, says Jesus. But don’t test God. Common sense is an overlooked spiritual gift.

At his temptation, Jesus demonstrates that scripture provides what the five food groups cannot—resources for living a life according to that foundational prayer: “Not my will but yours be done.”

Now, of course human beings need food, shelter, and clothing. We need structures for our communities and people to lead them. And while human systems inevitably change or even fall apart and get replaced by new arrangements, they can also succumb to temptation and become structures of authoritarianism, manipulation, and violence—just like Rome, who had gained global power and was abusing both that power and the people.

The story also shows us that the constant in creation is God. When taken as a whole, scripture feeds us the same nourishing promise, the promise that:

God is not only in the beginning, but before the beginning, and beyond the end.

God is in Abram’s and Sarah’s search for home and belonging.

God is in Joseph’s sojourn in Egypt.

God is in Moses’ struggles to discover faith and faithful leadership.

God is in the Hebrews’ own wilderness wanderings and temptations.

God is in the voice of David the poet even more so than in David the king.

God is in Israel’s every heartbreaking exile and in every blessed return.

God is in the birth of Mary’s child in Bethlehem, and in the young man’s words and actions.

God is in the midst of that confusing Thursday night, that terrible Friday, that desolate Saturday, and that altogether new and mystifying Sunday morning.

When weakened by hunger, fear, or grief, human beings often wrestle with the temptation to think and act selfishly. So, even now, God is calling us into the scriptures to strengthen our hearts and minds so that when we face temptation, we have the spiritual reserves to follow Jesus who leads us through those trials and leads us in the ways of God’s will—ways of peace and self-emptying love.

“When the devil had finished every test,” says Luke, “he departed from [Jesus] until an opportune time.”

That says to me that temptation is a way of life. And when we face it, especially on those dismal, famished, Gethsemane nights, come what may, God is there.

Let’s remember Peter once again. After trying to kill for Jesus, Peter—whom Jesus nicknamed Rock—denies Jesus, repeatedly, in the most straightforward way, saying, I do not know him!

Nonetheless, Peter, the disciple who argued God’s will with Jesus, who attempted to kill for Jesus, and who denied and abandoned Jesus—the disciple who gave in to every temptation—that granite-skulled disciple becomes one rock Jesus does turn into bread.

Christ or Mascot? (Sermon)

“Christ or Mascot?”

Psalm 100 and 1Corinthians 3:1-8

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

6/2/24

¹Make a joyful noise to the Lord,

all the earth.
²Serve the Lord with gladness;
come into his presence with singing.

³Know that the Lord is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people and the sheep of his pasture.

⁴Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him; bless his name.

⁵For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures forever
and his faithfulness to all generations. (NRSV)

After all the introductory niceties, Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians cuts right to the point: Y’all aren’t getting along, he says, because you’re fussing over loyalties to people who are not Jesus.

I wonder if the Corinthians, as ancient Greeks, were so used to having a smorgasbord of gods to choose from, that every time things got difficult, they went looking for something more satisfying on the buffet. And now, their faith community is fraying because some of them recognize only the authority of Paul, The Apostlewho planted the church. Others recognize only Apollos, who was smart and a great speaker, and whom Paul left to lead the congregation. Some lean toward Peter, who was intense and a direct link to Jesus. And apparently, some say they follow Jesus, who, it seems, was just one more item on the menu.

Lovingly distressed, Paul calls out the Corinthians for having grown so divided that they no longer experience Christ, much less represent his body. The Apostle challenges the Corinthians to understand that the gospel may sound a bit ridiculous at first. Remember, Paul tells them, that “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise…[and] what is weak in the world to shame the strong.” And Jesus had said that to find one’s live, lose it. How does all that work?

Paul wants the people to understand that, the longer one follows Jesus and his topsy-turvy gospel, the more one needs a well-practiced and mature spirituality—a spirituality balanced by contemplation and humble service. Then, in the thirteenth chapter of this same letter, Paul writes one of his most memorable passages, the passage that concludes, “And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three: and the greatest of these is love.” (1Cor. 13:13)

Love is the origin and the goal of faith and hope because, as Richard Rohr says, We can never truly know God. We can only love God. And that’s all God asks.¹ Paul urges the Corinthians to recognize that while they may be on the way to beginning to understand that truth, they need to grow up. They need to mature into agape love before it can become their truth.

With that context in mind, let’s listen for God’s Word.

And so, brothers and sisters, I could not speak to you as spiritual people, but rather as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. ²I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready, ³for you are still of the flesh. For as long as there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving according to human inclinations? ⁴For when one says, “I belong to Paul,” and another, “I belong to Apollos,” are you not merely human?

⁵What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe, as the Lord assigned to each. ⁶I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. ⁷So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. ⁸The one who plants and the one who waters have a common purpose, and each will receive wages according to the labor of each. (NRSV)

You folks are messed up, says Paul, because your sippy cups are empty and your diapers are full. The church is not about you, or me, or Apollos. We’re all servants, co-workers on God’s farm. I planted and Apollos watered because a crop needs people to do both of those things. And when seeds go into the earth, and die, the new life they receive and the growth they experience is a miracle only God can do.

Jealousy and quarreling, says Paul, are signs of a community made up of individuals who live in constant fear that their own, comfortable ways of thinking and being in the world will be questioned and found lacking. That fear launches a series of wrong turns. We turn away from love. We turns energies of cooperation and trust into suspicion, judgment, and even aggression toward those who represent new or different perspectives. And these reactions turn communities from havens of harmony into nurseries of resentment and conflict.

Let’s remember that Paul used to persecute Christians. He turned his Pharisaic fears into judgment, anger, and violent aggression toward followers of Jesus. Now he nurtures and leads them as a brother, and as a servant. To make that transformation, Paul himself, like a seed, died with Christ, and was raised, by God, to new life in Christ. So, he has unique authority to say that when followers of Jesus look for hope and redemption in anything besides Christ, they’re seeking comfort in what we might call mascots.

Human cultures offer mascots by the thousands. Whether it’s a celebrity, a political affiliation, a theological absolute, a ball team, a pixeled distraction, a substance, or some means by which to dominate others, there’s a pantheon of mascots and idols just waiting to be bought, sold, and coddled. We can claim to love them, but they cannot love us back. They can only seduce us. Love for a mascot is nothing more than an addiction.

As immeasurably different as the first and twenty-first centuries are, much about human relationships remains the same. The Corinthians’ competing loyalties to Paul and Apollos mirror the divisions we experience in our contemporary jealousies and quarrels. Human beings have always been driven by our obsessions with power and security. And through the eons our cultures have relied on brutality and intimidation to achieve those ends.

Since the fourth century, when Constantine legalized Christianity and Theodosius I made Christianity Rome’s official religion, the Church has fully participated in devotion to worldly mascots. And since misappropriated love is just another name for fear, the history of the Church has always included not only division, but destruction of things God creates and loves. The Crusades, the Inquisition, and the Holocaust are marquee examples of our corporate sin.

As members of that Church, we must confess that we have participated in and benefited from the Church’s state-sanctioned, fear-driven jealousies, quarrels, and power-grabs.

“Power is of two kinds,” said Gandhi. “One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective than [power] derived from fear of punishment.”²

While Gandhi wasn’t Christian, there’s an unmistakable harmony between him and Paul on the matter of all-embracing, all-redeeming, fear-defying love.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to be boldly different from the world around us while remaining lovingly engaged with it, as well. We’re called to be servants who have a “common purpose” even when we get sideways with each other. Our common purpose, as workers in God’s garden, is to receive and share the eternal love of the One who creates and redeems us.

We’re called to be a community of yeast, a ferment in the world according to Jesus’ ways of mercy, justice, and peace.

We experience unity not by coalescing around the same, rigid doctrines, but by holding the inevitable tensions of living in community with love, because love is “patient [and] kind…[it’s] not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude…[love] does not insist on its own way…[it’s] not irritable or resentful…[and love] bears…believes…hopes…and endures all things.” (1Cor. 13:4-7)

God, grant us the strength and the maturity of faith to live in love. To live humbly, honestly, and compassionately with one another, so that our lives and our life together witnesses to our shared conviction that we do, in all things and at all times, belong to and serve only You.

Thanks be to God.

¹https://cac.org/know-god-love-god-2018-01-19/

²https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/78373-power-is-of-two-kinds-one-is-obtained-by-the