Sermon: Life Commandments

LIFE COMMANDMENTS

Mark 1:4-11

Sermon preached by Dr. Mark Smutny

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Pasadena Presbyterian Church

Mark 1:4-11 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. ⁵And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. ⁶Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. ⁷He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. ⁸I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” ⁹In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. ¹⁰And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. ¹¹And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

The human mind is capable of believing anything. Some of these beliefs, these life commandments, can propel us to act like a gyroscope with amazing force with an internal guidance system. Ponder, for a few moments, these examples from different cultures and diverse human belief systems, yet eerily similar.

During World War II, young Japanese pilots would climb into fighter planes filled with explosives, pledge fealty to the Emperor, climb into the sky, then dive bomb into American aircraft carriers believing, according to their Shinto belief system, in death they would be united with the great guardian spirit protecting Japan.

Christian martyrs, in the late First Century, refusing to bow down before Caesar, allowed themselves to be eaten by lions and killed by gladiators, believing they would receive their reward in heaven.

A young Muslim, a teenager, a member of Al Qaeda of Iraq, drives a motorcycle into a crowded Baghdad market, his vest strapped with dynamite. He pulls the switch. It goes off, killing dozens of men, women and children. He unleashes this brutality because he believes he will find favor with Allah in paradise.

The human mind is capable of believing anything and acting on it.

It’s also true of you and it’s true of me. When I little, about six years old, the Cuban Missile Crisis was going full steam. I thought for sure the world was going to end in nuclear holocaust. I had nightmares about it, night after night. All I wanted to do was dig a big hole and hide. I was obsessed with the idea. I fantasized all the time about digging holes and warrens where my family would be safe when the end came. Maybe those of you who were alive at that time thought so as well.

When I was a little older, I used to think that I could stand in front of people, command their attention, and talk and talk and talk and enjoy being the center of everything. I did just that in school: in speech, in the science club and in debate. It felt pretty good. A pattern was established: a life commandment that propelled by behavior where I would regularly speak in front of people on a regular basis. I still can’t help it.

More seriously, I used to believe that work was everything and that work was the be all and end all of my existence. I secretly believed that anyone who didn’t agree with me was a slacker. Okay, maybe I didn’t keep my belief a secret. That’s what I used to believe. It was a life commandment: a deep, inner belief system that drove my behavior. It worked for me for awhile. For example it worked on the family farm where I was reared when work is what you do from before the sun rises until after it goes down. It worked as a way of getting my parents’ approval. It worked for getting A’s in school and in college. The life commandment that drove my behavior that work was the most important thing: it worked.

And like most life commandments, they are adaptive in some situations and maladaptive in others. I discovered the hard way that life is far richer than all work and no play. I needed prayer and therapy to discover that work had become an obsession for me. It had become an addiction for me. I discovered that work taken to extremes can crush the human spirit. It can damage relationships and extinguish joy from life.

I discovered what may be obvious to you but wasn’t obvious at all to me that joy can be found in play like when I hike with my two dogs Abbey and Troy. Now my two dogs teach me about God. Dog is god spelled backwards. Dogs teach me about play. Most of what dogs do is play. Now, I love to garden and cook—which I’ve always done but now I do less seriously with more room for error. I’m less fastidious and more relaxed. I don’t look like I’m working when I cook and garden.

Amazingly, for over a decade, I no longer get tense in my muscles when I’m not working. I used to get muscle tension if I was away from work for too long. I was really messed up. With God’s help a new life commandment has been re-written in my soul, sealed in my sinews, grounded in my gut that says, “Mark, even when you are not working, you are my beloved.” “Really?” I ask. God says, “Mark, go take a nap.”

It is like I have been born anew, baptized into a new way of life, into a fresh new way of being. The past is finished and gone. A new life has begun.

I think my experience must be something like what must have been going on as the parade of people were lining up to go down to the River Jordan to be baptized by John the Baptist in our Gospel story. People were ready for a new beginning. The old life commandments weren’t working for them. They were ready for something new. They were ready to know in their very being that they were loved. They were ready to know that they were free. They were ready to know they were precious children of a God who claimed them as God’s own. So they lined up, one by one, to receive the cleansing waters of baptism: to be born anew, to be baptized into a new way of life, where the past is finished and gone, where a new life unfolds, where the sin that clung to them could be washed away.

There are so many belief systems, so many life commandments, deep, inner belief systems that can drive a person’s behavior. Some are for good. Some are for ill. Some can be purely destructive and downright evil.

Most of the life commandments we act out of echo from the time when we were young, often very young. You may have been told (and you may have believed what you were told) that you were stupid, defective, an idiot. Maybe you heard these words repeated again and again by an insecure parent who didn’t know any better, by a cruel brother or sister, and you heard these words so many times, that there is a very good chance that a life commandment took root in you and you began to believe it and internalize it that you were defective.

Maybe you were told that you would never amount to anything and you believed it. Maybe you were never given affection, maybe you were not held enough, so that basic trust is difficult for you even decades later. Maybe you were told that to be a good little girl or a good little boy you needed to make everybody like you and your life commandment to be a people pleaser still gets in the way when there is a conflict and you find it difficult to stand up for your rights. Maybe you have that kind of life commandment inside of you.

More darkly, maybe in a time of terrible fear, in a time of deep upset, a life commandment was sealed in your being and seared in your memory that you were to deny the abuse that was going on and that you should never tell. They told you not to tell. Maybe you were told to buck up and deny your feelings. Maybe whenever you felt hurt you were told that you didn’t feel that way and you now have an internalized life commandment that tells you emotions of any kind are confusing. So emotions tend to come out sideways or maybe they come out as anger when you’re really feeling pain. Maybe you have a life commandment that is afraid of seeking justice.

Maybe you have a life commandment that is unhealthy in relation to God. Were you told that God was an angry God who would send you to hell if you didn’t obey? Were you told that you were a horrible sinner, unworthy, a pile of unworthiness before an angry, capricious God? Do you have that type of fear-based religion, that kind of life commandment in you lurking somewhere beneath the surface?

Or conversely, were you told from the very beginning, that you were loved—all the time? Were you treasured? From the day you drew your first breath did you know that you were a precious child of God? As a girl were you told that you could do anything? As a boy were you taught that girls and women were to be respected? Did a life commandment take root in you, a core belief that you should treat everyone with respect and dignity? Was God always to you a loving God? When disappointment came, when failure came, when you did wrong, were you harshly judged or were you forgiven and loved back into new life? Was a life commandment placed in you that Jesus loves you; that you are gifted, precious, a wonderful creation of a loving God? Were you told again and again that you could take the gifts God had given you and you could make something wonderful from them and you believed it? What life commandment do you believe that propels your behavior today?

When Jesus came down to the River Jordan to be baptized by John, the first words Jesus heard when he emerged from the baptismal waters were, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Sealed in Jesus’ baptism are the perfect words, the life commandment, the deep belief system that will provide the gyroscope to direct Jesus’ behavior for the rest of his life. Jesus is God’s beloved. Nothing could be more precious, more secure and more foundational for what lay ahead for him. The God who is love declared Jesus beloved that the beloved might spread the Gospel of love through his ministry, through his death, and on to his glorious resurrection.

If only each one of us could hear that divine voice above all other voices and have it sealed in our hearts that we are beloved. If only each one of us could hear the life commandment, the internal compass, the gyroscope to guide us as we emerge from the fresh waters of our baptism, “You are my beloved.”

My friends, the hope, promise and reality of this new day is that in Christ everything has become fresh and new. In your own baptism, you have taken on a lifetime of renewal, of dying to sin, of being born anew into the life of Christ. This journey did not end when you were baptized. It only began. Before you lies a lifetime of growing into the likeness of Christ! From this day forward may you grasp more fully the divine gift of God’s love for you. May you hear more fully the divine voice saying to you, “You are my beloved, my beloved child, my beloved son, my beloved daughter, in whom I am well pleased.” May you hear God’s voice. Write it in your hearts: a new life commandment. May it drive your behavior like an internal compass—a gyroscope—a guidance system. And then, knowing you are loved, let us be a loving people, loving God, loving neighbor, and yes, loving ourselves. With God’s help, make it so. Amen.

Prayers of the People. . .

Loving God,

On this day, we gather with a spirit of newness. Whether we feel newness within ourselves or whether we find ourselves longing for it, You are in the midst of that Spirit, because You are turning us and calling us in a new direction.

As we contemplate the new year. . .

As we contemplate this new day. . .

As we contemplate new ways of being called to be Your people. . .

We pray for Your grace.

In a spirit of newness, we pray that all time may come alive. As we remember our baptism, send us in remembrance to our beginning, that we may know firmly who we are and Whose we are. And in the newness that is now, we pray that You would make that baptismal identity alive so that we might live as the people You have created and called us to be. As we remember what is ahead for us - in our lives and as your church here in this place - may Your being and Your identity and Your dreaming for this world precede us so that we may bring our fullest selves and follow You in such a new, holy direction. May it be.

May joy enter this place - this building, this space, this city, in these hearts of ours - so that it can meet us in all the places that need to be greeted with joy.

In joblessness, we pray that joy would meet us in opportunity.

In sickness, we pray that joy would meet us in a peace that passes all understanding and in the loving care of our community.

In grief, may joy come in the surprise that You walk with us - through all the losses that are real and painful to bear.

In depression, in anxiety, in irritability, may joy seep into the very cells of our bodies, that we might feel made alive once more.

In conflicts - inner conflicts, personal conflicts, and large conflicts that weigh down this globe of ours - may joy be found in ways that call all sides to love one another and to make swords into plowshares.

Be with us, Holy God, in this time and spirit of newness. With the joy that is ours - the joy we feel now and the joy we find ourselves yearning toward - we are bold to pray the prayer you taught us as Your children, saying. . .

Our Father who art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy Name,

Thy Kingdom come,

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil,

For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory forever.

Amen.

Clinic for Homeless Teens

Reflection: Accompanying One Another

Luke 10:25-37: Parable of the Good Samaritan

Here’s a situation we’ve all encountered: We’re walking down the street. Minding our own business, right? Maybe we’ve been shopping. Maybe we’ve just had a great lunch. Mmh. . . now that was some pastrami. . . Our stomachs gurgle just thinking about it. Or maybe we’ve done none of these. Maybe we’re simply taking a walk. I mean, come on! Who needs to consume things to have a good time? We’re just out here to enjoy the sunshine. Well, whatever we’ve been doing, we’re on our way home. We’re satisfied. We’ve had a great day. Now, it’s time to go home and relax.

Only wait. Who’s that? We see someone ahead of us who’s coming closer. We don’t think too much about it. But we notice him. After all, he does look a bit different than the rest of the people on the street. His brown hair is long and greasy. We wouldn’t say that he has a beard exactly, but he hasn’t shaved in a long time. In fact, his scraggly, unshaven facial hair looks a bit uneven. He’s wearing a ragged flannel shirt. “It’s too hot for that,” we think. His stonewashed jeans are dirty and he’s limping a little. . .

Now we don’t think too much about it. But we notice him. “Hmm, that’s sad” we think. Our mind shifts to the rest of the day. We think about our favorite t.v. show. It’s coming on in an hour! And just as we imagine sitting back in front of the tube with an ice cold glass of lemonade, we notice the man again. Our eyes suddenly catch his. We didn’t plan that. It just happened. “Look down!” we think instinctively. “He’s trying to make eye contact with us!”

“Hey, can you spare some change?”

Can you spare some change? That’s a simple question. But in an instant, our neurons start firing and our mind starts racing through a myriad of ways to answer the question. In one split second, we’re having a long conversation with ourselves.

“Well, I have a $5 bill. Maybe I should give him that. Wouldn’t that be the Christian thing to do?”

“But wait a second. I don’t even know this guy! What if he’s just going to take my five dollars to the liquor store and cash in? Or what if he buys drugs with it? No, no, I better not. . .”

“There are plenty of agencies that can help him. Maybe my five dollars would be better spent there.”

“But how do I know that he’s going to waste my money? Shouldn’t I take the risk anyway? What if he’s really hungry right now? No agency is going to help him in the next hour. What would Jesus do? Yeah, yeah. . . I think I’ll give him the money.”

“Oh wait. My $5 bill is in my wallet. What if I pull out my wallet and this guy jets off with it! I better not.”

“Or, I know! I don’t even have to give this guy money! He looks like a pastrami kind of guy! I could buy him a sandwich.”

“But wait a minute. I’m not his Mommy! Wouldn’t it be humiliating for me to accompany this guy just so he can get a bite to eat? Shouldn’t I at least grant this guy enough dignity to choose where he eats?”

“Geez, I don’t know. . .”

This entire conversation occurs in no time at all. “Um, sure,” we say. We fumble about and give the man five dollars. We did it. We answered the question. Time to go home.

In a sermon years ago, I heard someone describe a typical scenario just like this one.1 And he made an observation about the aftermath. Our conversation with ourselves isn’t usually over when we walk away. We’re still asking ourselves questions. We ask, “Well, did I do the right thing? Did I do what God would want me to do? Was it right for me to give the money? Did I meet my obligation?”

Meeting the obligation. This is something we think about often – not just in this scenario but in many scenarios. What’s the right thing to do in this situation or in that situation? We constantly ask ourselves questions like these. We’re always calculating and shifting our ethical checklist. Scenario X. Hmm. . .let me see here. We look at our grid. Oh, of course, do this! Now, I’m obviously making fun of us. But we do think about obligations a lot. What are our obligations to people? After all, we all want to act ethically, and we want to feel like we’re ethical people!

Could it be that the lawyer in our gospel story was thinking just like we are? “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” What must I do? What’s the obligation? When do I know that I’ve done the right thing? We all ask variations of the lawyer’s question. Jesus asked him what’s written in the law, and that’s a question the lawyer probably felt pretty good about. After all, he was a law kind of guy. He gave the perfect Sunday School answer: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Ding, ding, ding! Right answer! Jesus seemed pleased with it. But the lawyer wanted to know what law’s implications are. What are the obligations behind loving your God and your neighbor? Come on, Jesus. Spell it out for me! Tell me how to form that ethical checklist! Help me know exactly what to do so I can leave feeling good about myself at the end of the day! Hmm. . . myself. Is that what this is about?

The scripture says that this particular lawyer wanted to justify himself. He wanted to know that he had met his obligation. “And who is my neighbor?” That’s an interesting question, isn’t it?. Maybe asking “Who is my neighbor?” is really another way of asking, “Who isn’t my neighbor?” How far to my obligations stretch? This far? This far? How far do I really have to go? When do I know that I’m off the hook?

And then Jesus told an absurd story. It wasn’t just surprising. It was disturbing. It was completely offensive. It crossed the line of social decency entirely. Now we can’t get there completely, of course, but we can try to put ourselves into the position of the first hearers.

Jesus told them that a man was traveling on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. His audience would have known that this was a dangerous road. Their ears would have pricked up just at that. It was an immensely steep road, and on top of this, anyone could be easily attacked there. And that’s exactly what happened to the man. He was completely violated by a band of robbers. Stripped. Beaten. Left for Half-Dead. This was a tragedy. It was a grave injustice. Jesus’ hearers would have known it. Perhaps, they would have felt it.

Now they may have known this road was dangerous, but Jesus’ story played their every expectation. They heard him say this: “Now by chance a priest was going down that road.”

“Oh, this must be the point of the story. Jesus had been asking about the law. The priest was responsible for that. He was a law guy too. The law instructs him help this man.”

But “he passed him by on the other side.”

“What? Jesus, that doesn’t make any sense. He’s a priest – a religious authority! Why wouldn’t he help?”

And then Jesus told them that a Levite came down the road.

“ Hmm. . .well maybe this guy will help.”

But he passed by the other side too.

“Now wait a second! A Levite? He was responsible for helping in the temple! What do you mean he wouldn’t stop? The law instructs him to help. Why didn’t he?”

And then, the bombshell. The offensive detail. A Samaritan came down the road, and when he saw the man, he took pity on him. He didn’t pass by. He bandaged his wounds. He put him on his own animal and took him to an inn. Then he left extra money there. “What? A Sa---!”

Perhaps Jesus’ first audience wouldn’t even let the word “Samaritan” form in their minds. The 1st century Jews and the 1st century Samaritans hated each other with no small intensity. Why did they hate each other so much? This rivalry stretched back oh, I don’t know. .. about 700 years! Can you imagine? 700 years? About 700 years ago, the land was split into the Northern Kingdom of Israel and the Southern Kingdom of Judah. Assyria attacked the Northern Kingdom, and when they did, they took many Jews away. They left the others behind. Then the Assyrians put other captives in the land, captives from all the surrounding territories they had conquered. The Jews who were still there married these foreign captives and started families with them. For this reason, the Jews in the South considered their progeny, the Samaritans to be “Half-Jews.” So, they hated them, and the Samaritans hated them back. It went both ways. They wouldn’t worship together. They wouldn’t eat together. You better believe they wouldn’t be caught dead – or in this case half-dead – with a Samaritan. What on earth was Jesus trying to do in this story?

And speaking of that, what on earth was the Samaritan trying to do? He was putting himself completely at risk. How did he know that some robbers weren’t going to come for him? How did he know that some other Jews wouldn’t see one of their own on his animal and think that he hurt this naked, beaten, half-dead man himself? He knew he wasn’t safe.

Society told him that he no obligation to this man. None whatsoever. And yet he took the risk. He took responsibility. He walked alongside this hurting, Jewish man. He accompanied him – not only literally, on the road itself – but in the pain itself. He took responsibility for something – someone -- whom society would have never told him he was responsible for.

Now Jesus had a question: “Which one of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” The story was so absurd, so offensive, that the lawyer couldn’t even speak the true neighbor’s name. “Samaritan” couldn’t come out of his mouth. He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said, “Go and do likewise.”

Jesus says, “Go and do likewise.” Now let’s think about it for a minute. How offensive! What if the story went like this? A man was stripped, beaten, and left half-dead by a band of robbers. By some chance, a Presbyterian minister came and saw the man. But the minister passed him by. After all, the church bake sale was going on and there was a sermon to write. Then a nun came by. Well, she needed to attend to her prayers so she left him there. Then an Al-Qaida Operative came by, and when he saw the man, he had pity on him. He bandaged him, put him in his own car, and took him to a hotel. He left money for him at the hotel, and he went on his way. . Do we see how offensive this would have been?!? Which one of these was the neighbor? Would we have wanted to say, “Um, let’s see. . .the Al-Qaida Operative?” Of course not! And yet, we’re told, “Go and do likewise.” “Be like that Samaritan.”

“Go and do likewise.” How big is our circle? Who are we responsible toward? Our family? Our church? Our nation? What’s our obligation? See, we get caught up in obligation language. Let’s think about the scenario we started with. When a man on the street asks us for money, we leave asking ourselves plenty of questions. Did I do the right thing? Did I meet my obligation?

I’ll pass on what the pastor said in the sermon I heard years ago. Every time we ask ourselves questions like these, we’re really concerned with ourselves. We’re concerned with being justified. We want to feel good at the end of the day. But what if, with God’s help, we can learn to ask different questions – better questions – questions which aren’t centered completely on ourselves and our “right” status? Maybe it’s not ultimately about giving the money or not. Instead of walking away saying, “Did I do the right thing?” what if we asked, “How can I be bound up together with this man, this neighbor of mine, as I enter into the larger human struggle which is poverty?” We don’t go away lauding ourselves. We go away feeling called to live into the reality of who we are and Whose we are. We belong to God. That man belongs to God. If both of these things are true, we belong together.

The truth is, moments for responsibility usually find us. They grab us. It may be a man who asks us for money on the street. Or it could be a person who needs a safe place. We invite them into our church, or we invite them into the life of our family. It could be that news story that keeps getting our attention again and again, and now we feel like we can’t leave it alone. What if we’re called to take responsibility toward people whom culture and society say we aren’t responsible? What if we’re called to take responsibility toward people for whom we have no societal obligation?

“Now wait a minute!” we might say. ”We can’t do everything. If the circle gets wider and wider, aren’t we just putting heavier and heavier loads on ourselves? Where’s the grace in that?” No, that can’t be it at all. What we need is a paradigm shift all together! It’s not about doing more things for more people. It’s not about our obligations getting bigger. It’s not about obligation at all. It’s about being with each other. It’s about being for each other. It’s about accompanying people – not just doing things for them. It’s about accompanying them in their struggle. It’s saying, “Your struggle is my struggle too.” And we don’t do this on our own. We do it because God accompanies us! Isn’t that a huge part of what love is – accompanying one another? We’re stepping into what God is already doing with us and for us – with others and for others! What if we started to think about love in a new way?

“For God so accompanied the world that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

“Accompanying is patient. . . accompanying is kind. . . Accompanying keeps no record of wrongs. . . Accompanying bears all things.”

“Beloved, since God so accompanied us, we also ought to accompany one another.”

Accompanying. With each other. For each other. It’s not obligation. It’s orientation – orientation toward others. It’s about entering their struggle and calling it our own. That’s love.

“Go and do likewise.”

-Renee Roederer, Director of Evangelism and Young Adult Ministries at Pasadena Presbyterian Church

1 I am borrowing this illustration from Rev. Ben Johnston-Krase, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, Racine, Wisconsin

New Class: Can Islam and Christianity Coexist in Today's World?

A subject that was not even on the radar before 2000 is absolutely unavoidable today. Recent history has shaken established patterns and given rise to questions about the role of America, and of the Church itself, in the world.

- What is the impact of 9/11?

- What are the implications of the "Arab Spring"?

- What does Jihad mean to Muslims? How do Christians understand it?

- Is Christian mission to Islam possible today?

- What are barriers to Christian-Muslim understanding?

- Are there bridges to relationships between Christians and Muslims?

These are among the issues that will be addressed in an adult education class at Pasadena Presbyterian Church in January. Dr. Dudley Woodberry of Fuller Seminary, a lifelong missionary and scholar on Islam, will be at Pasadena Presbyterian Church for three Sunday classes on January 8, 15, and 22.

Please join us at for this timely and provocative series. Friends are welcome to attend too.

The class will be held in South Hall at 11:20am. Pasadena Presbyterian Church is located at 585 E. Colorado Blvd, Pasadena, CA.

Visions of Multiculturalism in the Bible

We're excited that the L.I.F.T. Bible Study is resuming tonight with a new topic for exploration!

L.I.F.T. is a community group at Pasadena Presbyterian Church for younger adults. The L.I.F.T. Bible Study meets on the first and third Wednesdays of the month from 7-8:30pm in Parish House 201 at our congregation.

For the next few weeks, we'll be looking at visions of multiculturalism in the Bible. We'll study visions and stories of inclusion and exclusion, and we'll be asking questions of faith. How is God calling us to live as a multicultural church?

We hope that you will bring your multicultural experiences and join us tonight!

Young Adults in the News!

As a young adult community, we want to stay aware of the particular gifts that young adults bring to our world as well as the particular challenges that young adults face. We are also curious to learn about culture and trends among young adults.

Here are some recent news stories and blog posts that concern young adults:

Paperless Society? No Way, Say Young Adults

Young Adults Struggling With Finances Turn to a New Type of Insolvency

Young Americans Say Facebook, Text Messaging Will Spark Millenial Voting