Festival Worship
Eleven days ago, the president of the United States stood before a joint session of Congress. He delivered his State of the Union address.
Eleven days ago, the president of the United States stood before a joint session of Congress. He delivered his State of the Union address.
Alone, in his television studio … he can say almost anything he wants. Alone, in his studio, airing his own show, he can spew venom and make up facts. If I were to say such things, you would walk out, or stand and turn your backs in protest. And well you might.
But, alone in his studio on his own show, he can make up what he wants. He can make it up out of whole cloth, claim it to be true and broadcast it around the world. Alone, from his studio in Virginia Beach, Virginia, he can - he has! - claimed that Hurricane Katrina is God's punishment for a liberal America.
The Christenson Cross is one of the compelling features of this sanctuary. It was dedicated in 1990 to the memory of a beloved minister of this church: Bob Christenson. Having served as the Associate Minister for ten years, in 1989 Bob died tragically at age 57 of cancer.
If our eyes are windows into our souls, then what do you make of John's soul? What do you make of the soul of John of Patmos . . . John the Revelator . . . John the Divine . . . John the Seer . . . author of the Book of Revelation? What do you make of the soul of the one who sees this vision of a new heaven and a new earth?
A lot has been made of this vision. The Book of Revelation, the last book in the New Testament, is the most contested and controversial book of the Bible. It is easily the most difficult . . . and it is the easiest to abuse.
How many of you now or in years past, qualified to run the Boston Marathon?
How many of you intend to qualify for it in future years?
Yesterday I met a man who tried to qualify twelve times. Twelve times he failed. Thirteen is his lucky number. He is running this year. Talk about perseverance.
By any measure the Boston Marathon is special. It is not the fastest marathon. It is not the most difficult marathon. But it is the most storied.
For decades now there have been reports of a grave illness in the family. Sociologists and psychologists, scientists and journalists and others have gathered around the bedside of religion.
They have monitored religion’s vital signs and felt its pulse. They have pronounced that religion is old, very old and weary and decrepit … an outmoded, outdated antiquity that has outlived its usefulness. Religion, they say—and they have been saying this for some time—is dying.
It was for this mother and son—for Harry Huff and his mother—a tender and beloved, annual ritual. Every year on Mother’s Day, after breakfast, dressed for church, Harry and his mother opened the screen door, stepped outside into their Tennessee back yard and approached the rose bushes. Harry chose a red rose to wear in honor of his mother. His mother chose a white rose to wear in memory of her mother.
The Bible is a talking book. It begins in speech. Not just any speech. Efficacious speech. Successful speech. Words that make things happen.
“Let there be light” God shouts into the void. And the lights come on. These aren’t just any words. These are words with wings. Words with legs. This efficacious speech.
The Bible is a talking book.
On this 341st anniversary of our gathering, as we receive new members who have come to “own the covenant” and as we honor our long-term members, some of whom have been members of this body of Christ for more than seventy-five years, listen:
Over the course of more than three hundred years, it has been the occasional practice of the clergy of Old South Church to preach what we refer to here as “historical sermons” … sermons whose content is intended to illumine some facet of the past: some practice, personage or event.
This is such a sermon.