Text: Psalm 1:1-3, Revelation 21:1-6

Speaker: Joel Miller

Among the many decisions for the committee that compiled our Voices Together hymna was which hymn to put first.  Symbolically, and practically, VT 1 sets the tone for VT 2-849.  Their choice, which we will sing later, was “Summoned by the God Who Made Us.”  It’s a familiar tune that works well with different styles – a capella, or accompanied with a piano, organ, or worship band. The text is new, for us.  It’s about God bringing together a wide range of people.  The chorus says: “Let us bring the gifts that differ, and in splendid, varied ways, sing a new church into being, one in faith and love and praise.”  CMCer Katie Graber says the hope was that many people could “see themselves” in this song. 

I wonder if the committee that compiled the Psalms – the hymnbook of the people of Israel – was asking a similar question.  Symbolically and practically, Psalm 1 sets the tone for Psalms 2-150.  Unlike VT 1, Psalm 1 draws a sharp line between the righteous and the wicked.  There are those who delight in the Instruction of the Lord, and those who do not.  That theme does track through the Psalms.  But like our opening hymn, Psalm 1 offers something familiar, something anyone, anywhere, can understand and see themselves in.  The primary image of Psalm 1 is that of a tree, planted by streams of water.  It’s fruitful.  It’s leaves are green. 

It’s the same image found at the beginning of scripture, in the Garden of Eden, where the Tree of Life grows near a stream that flows out to water the whole world.  And, although that Psalms committee wouldn’t have known it, it also shows up at the end of the Christian Bible.  The book of Revelation…

Speaker: Bethany Davey

Text: Ruth 1:8-22

The story of Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi is first and foremost a story of women. No other biblical text is told from such an explicitly woman-focused perspective. Not only is this a story of women, but this is a story of societally vulnerable women: widows, immigrants, women without the protective cushion of older and younger generations or sweeping family networks (1). 

Jewish and Christian traditions highlight Ruth’s story for a variety of theological reasons. Ruth is often considered in Judaism to be the first convert, the first to choose Israel over her own Moabite heritage. Many Christians focus on Ruth because her uncertain beginnings eventually lead her to participate in King David’s lineage, and ultimately, the line of Jesus. Biblical scholars note a variety of themes throughout the book of Ruth: the power of women’s agency and solidarity between one another, the realities of migration, the connections between justice and land access. That’s quite a lot for such a brief text.

Yet, what draws me into the story is the relationship between Naomi and Ruth. What profound love must exist between them that Naomi—who is an immigrant in Ruth’s Moabite land, and knows the danger she faces in solo migration to Judah—insists that Ruth remain. What profound love must exist between them that Ruth, who knows the risks that she—a Moabite woman about to immigrate to Judah, might bear—goes anyway. Ruth and Naomi choose one another, against the odds, in spite of the risk. Their familial, marital bonds may be broken, but from that broken place comes a reformed linkage, a new kinship network chosen for the sake of one another. 

It is for this reason that Ruth and Naomi are often understood in queer theologies as engaged in a queer relationship—not necessarily in a romantic sense, but…

Text: Luke 6:1-11

Speaker: Joel Miller

It’s the year 1693, and a group of concerned ministers and elders have written an open letter to Anabaptist congregations, calling for a meeting.  These leaders are concerned about the lack of clarity in what it means to be a church member in good standing.  Specifically, the three named issues are 1) whether lying was cause for excommunication 2) whether to shun those who had been excommunicated for whatever reason, and 3) if people the church referred to as “the good-hearted,” those who supported the Anabaptists but wouldn’t officially join the church by being rebaptized, would be saved.  The letter-writers fear the church is too lenient on all accounts.    

For a bit more context, this point in time is about 1/3 of the way into the 500-year history of Anabaptism.  Persecutions had scattered the early generations into more tolerant areas.  Other Christian groups had a history of violently persecuting dissenters, while showing little interest in disciplining poor behavior of those who stayed in the church.  Anabaptists, on the other hand, especially in these areas of Switzerland and France, refused physical violence against anyone, but were ready to excommunicate, to temporarily remove from fellowship, unrepentant members who had sinned.    

But where and how to draw these lines, in a way keeping with the gospel of Jesus Christ?  This was the energizing question prompting this letter and the meetings that followed.  The frequency of communion, the practice of footwashing, and whether to have dress codes were other peripheral issues.  

The letter-writing group appointed a small committee who met several times with other ministers.  At their final meeting, the ministers requested more time to consult with their congregations.  This unwillingness to give a definitive answer greatly irritated a lead member of the concerned committee.  On the spot, he pronounced excommunication…

Text: Exodus 1:8-21

Speaker: Joel Miller

The biblical book we call Exodus goes by a different name for Jews.  In Jewish tradition, the first five books of the Bible, the Torah, are named after the most significant Hebrew word from the opening phrase of the book.  Genesis is Bereshit, which translates as “In the beginning.”  Numbers is Bamidbar, “In the desert.”  Deuteronomy is Devarim, “Words.”  These fit well with the stories that follow.  Exodus, however, is a bit of a surprise, at least for us Gentiles.  It is known as Shemot which means “The names of…” or, more simply, “Names.” 

Giving a list of names is indeed how Exodus, Names, opens.  “These are the names,” it begins, “of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, each with his household.”  It’s a family roll call of the twelve sons, from the oldest, Reuben, all the way down to Joseph.  As a family, they migrated to Egypt.   

Egypt was the super power of its time.  When famine persisted elsewhere, Egypt had grain – lots of it – and people came from all around to stay alive.  The adult children of Jacob were one of those hungry foreign tribes.  They ended up settling in Egypt.  There, the descendants of Israel went from barely surviving to thriving – becoming, as the text says, “exceedingly strong.” 

Names are more than just identifiers of individuals.  Names can represent whole lineages, interconnected webs of relationships through generations.  After opening with the names of this father and his sons, the story promptly leaps forward in time, telling us this entire generation has now died.  Those names are then borne by the descendants who trace themselves back through family lines. 

The last time we worshiped here we explored why we are named Mennonite.  If you weren’t here, or as a reminder,…

Texts: Genesis 33:1-11; “Jacob and Esau: The Embrace, by Cheryl Denise; Matthew 5:43-48

Speaker: Joel Miller

If one were to read the New Testament, starting with Matthew, it wouldn’t take long to reach one of – if not the – most challenging, transcendent, maddening, beautiful, hauntingly impossible, teachings in the entire Bible.  It’s just five chapters in.  It’s part of the long teaching we know as the Sermon on the Mount.  Speaking to the crowds gathered to hear this newly-popular prophet from Galilee, Jesus says these three startling words: Love. Your. Enemies. 

“You have heard that it was said,” Jesus says, “’You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you so that you may be children of your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:43:45).

Luke records a similar teaching.  Jesus said: “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?  For even sinners love those who love them.  If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you?…But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.  Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High” (Luke 6:32-35).

Several decades ago there was a project called The Jesus Seminar.  It was a group of liberal Bible scholars attempting to sort out the authentic words of the historical Jesus, from what might have been the additions of the gospel writers.  Each saying got ranked according to its likelihood of authenticity.  Among those receiving the highest rating was…“love your enemies.”  Their logic went something like this: There’s no good reason why the early Christians – who were trying to attract more followers – would invent something that would clearly turn people away.  To say it…