John Wilkinson 
Pastor, Third Presbyterian Church, Rochester, NY

Joshua 24: 1-3a, 14-25

Faster than you can say Harmon Killebrew, the Covenant Network of Presbyterians is eleven years old. I am privileged, and a little undone, to have been part of that story from the beginning. The initial stages of this morning’s conversation may have a slight insider feel to them, but I hope there is some value in that, that the eventual broadening of the conversation takes it beyond mere nostalgia and into something useful.

Admitting no little bias, what I can say now eleven years later is that we have sought to be a faithful voice, a faithful voice to a part of a denominational family, to a whole denominational family, a denominational family whose teaching and practice of ordination based on understandings of human sexuality has been deeply flawed, and whose vision and mission have needed renewal based on the commitments and values we have shared with the larger family.

How faithfully we have done that is still an open question, I suppose, and really a matter of perspective. We have sought to be many things.

A bridge, making friends, building relationships, in all directions, when those to the left of us have thought we’ve not moved quickly enough, nor firmly enough, when those to the right of us have articulated fundamental disagreements and insisted we’ve been just plain wrong.

Or an oasis, a place where individuals and congregations can take their concerns when they’ve not been sure where to do that. Some of the most powerful moments we’ve experienced have been at the ecclesiastical trade show called General Assembly, at our exhibit booth, when a lonely minister in a part of the country where the words “gay” and “lesbian” aren’t easily uttered has said thank you to us, a kind of surrogate presbytery or seminary alumni association or clergy support group.

Or a window, to use one of Calvin’s favorite images, through which we might see a bit more clearly how things might be, see a different kind of church, the church we can see from here, with a different kind of future.

But we didn’t name ourselves after a bridge or an oasis or a window. My memories are fuzzy on this, but I don’t remember us spending a lot of time on our name. No marketing firm. No focus groups.

I do believe that our name has been a kind of statement of faith, a theological affirmation – covenant – and an ecclesiastical one – network – reflecting no dichotomy, but rather the heart of Presbyterianism, the inextricably linked nature of belief and behavior, theology and governance, who we are and how we are, a “covenant network.”

We actually gave ourselves three names: the Covenant Network of Presbyterians. We won’t consider our family name, Presbyterians, this morning, and will focus on the first two in reverse order.

First our middle name. Food Network, Cartoon Network. Our trendiness is breathtaking. Other terms were taken and “network” is a much hipper word than “fellowship.”

In some sense, we are not quite a network. We’ve no secret handshake or membership card. In fact, we’ve sometimes been vexed by organizational issues: money, structure, decision-making. But because we’ve been something like a temporary arrangement, a movement and ongoing conversation, rather than an institution, “network” ended up being a good word.

And more so, it speaks to the connectionalism of the Presbyterian family, with all its messy complexity, always the body even when the network is down.

And it has been suggestive. If we live in a cocooning, “bowling alone” world, the church is not much different, and so connecting has been an alternative vision, an antidote to brokenness and division in church and culture.

That’s why we’ve tried to do more than simply talk to ourselves, but sought to build relationships to the left and right, to see each other’s face. It is easier not to, of course.  But it is better, better strategically, politically, certainly theologically.

We are the body of Christ, Paul tells us, and individually members of it. Anything that mitigates that vision – in any direction – restricts opportunities for building up the body and narrows opportunity for evangelical witness and spiritual development.

In fact, and again I will admit a particular bias, that may just have been what that “whacked-out” Theological Task Force was suggesting. Be a real network, church, and true. Connect and re-connect. Talk with one another after all these years of talking at one another or beyond one another, for the sake of the body of Christ and the mission of the church.

Some of us have taken the ordination vows of the Presbyterian Church; others here might some day, we pray. My favorite vow was the one about “energy, intelligence, imagination and love.” I had an elder once ask me if 3 out of 4 were acceptable. I said that it depended on which one!

My new favorite vow, after living with it for some years, speaks of “furthering the peace, unity and purity of the church.” Notice that it says furthering, not achieving.

That vow is more than 200 years old, and without putting too fine a point on it, the peace and unity part relates to this notion of network. Certainly matters of sexuality and ordination are theological ones; though intertwined the church leap-frogged quickly to ecclesiology.  So for the sake of the church, we must say that G-6.0106b is bad theology and bad polity, and of course it needs to be gone.

It is at best: questionable biblically, untenable constitutionally, problematic theologically, harmful pastorally, and counter-productive ecclesiastically.

It is unenforceable and un-interpretable. It could not say what it wanted to say flat out, that no lesbian or gay people could be ordained; so the church concocted this mess, with undefined terms like “fidelity” and “chastity” and no clear way to apply or interpret.

It suggests that the God in whose image we are created did a less than competent job.

It suggests that the Christ in whose redemption we are embraced is less than an equal opportunity redeemer.

It suggests that the Spirit whose voice we seek to hear and whose Pentecostal activity transforms us all is somehow limited in its ability to do what it will.

And we know that’s just not so.

And so it does need to be gone; and on a deeper level, our teaching and practice about ordination and sexuality need to be reformed and transformed. That’s why this network exists, to press for that change. But we need to move deeper and broader than that, for this constitutional brokenness can only be remedied if the network is strong, in all directions, and if the new kind of conversations we are called to have about peace and unity are fortified with a compelling theological vision.

Hence our first name.

We are meeting this week within the bounds of the Presbytery of the Twin Cities Area and the Synod of Lakes and Prairies. Two fairly self-evident designations. Sometimes we Presbyterians do that, but other times we slap theological concepts on our governing bodies. Grace. Hope. Trinity.

I have some new ones to suggest. How about the Synod of Double Predestination.
Or perhaps the Presbytery of Total Depravity. (I’ve been to those meetings, you are thinking to yourself!)

We have a Presbytery of New Covenant, in Texas, and a Synod of the Covenant. The Synod of the Covenant used to include Michigan, Ohio and Kentucky until they lopped Kentucky off, which seems a little ironic given the name.

Which is all to say that whether we, eleven years ago, thought through the full implications of our name, the notion of covenant has been a vital Presbyterian affirmation from our beginnings, and a most crucial entry point for our understanding of who God is and who we are called to be.

I recollect learning about covenant in Sunday school, where I mostly remember that it was somehow different than a contract. Contracts can be broken, I was taught. Covenants cannot.

From dimly recalled seminary days, I remember how central covenant was, and that the Hebrew term indicated that God “cut” a covenant, a physical act that represented the unbreakable nature of our relationship with God.

In God of Promise, Michael Horton writes that per its Old Testament roots, “a covenant is a relationship of ‘oaths and bonds’ and involves mutual, though not necessarily equal commitments.” [Page 10]

We get a taste of that as the book of Joshua concludes. Joshua’s time is done. He gathers the tribes together at Shechem. And speaking in God’s voice, he simply tells the story, the story of God, a people, a journey, a promise. This lectionary text skips a bunch of the story, but it’s all there.

At the other end is a divine “therefore.” “Therefore – serve God, follow God, reject the other gods and make a choice.”

I don’t know about you all, Joshua says, but we will serve this God. Us too, the people say, a bit eagerly. Not so fast, Joshua replies. This is serious business, no casual decision. You will experience no better God than this god, none more faithful, as you know. But you don’t mess with this God, either; if you do, there will be problems. But the people persist – this is the God we will serve. Then a little oath-taking and witnessing, a combination of legality and liturgy. And Joshua made a covenant.

Walter Brueggemann writes in Theology of the Old Testament that “the acknowledgement of Yahweh at the center of life requires a reordering of everything else – the meeting at Shechem is one of serious, even dangerous adjudication in order to decide the truth of competing gods…which will determine the internal shape of the community and determine the shape of the world.” [Pages 747-750]

The centrality of the covenant here, punctuated by this complex and solemn renewal ceremony, underscores the centrality of covenant across the biblical witness. But it wasn’t until the Reformation of the sixteenth century that it was developed theologically, and our Reformed forbears led the way.

Of covenant, John Riggs writes in a fine book Baptism in the Reformed Tradition, the Reformed tradition has insisted “on the primary…activity of God, as God self-discloses as the one who is with us and for us and to whom we are called to loyalty out of thankfulness.” [Page 100]

That means, Michael Horton asserts, that “we were not just created and given a covenant; we were created as covenant creatures – partners, not in deity, to be sure, but in the drama that was about to unfold in history.” [Page 10]

In that biblical and theological light, then, human sexuality, S-E-X, becomes a covenantal discussion.

What we need, because of our understanding of covenant, is a Reformed sexual ethic, a faithful, effective, compelling sexual ethic, something more than one prohibitive sentence in the Book of Order.

The original committee called in 1958 to write a new confession for the church – what became the Confession of 1967 – drafted a superb social ethic based on a vision of reconciliation and focusing on three social challenges – warfare, poverty and racism.  They knew something was missing; they punted on sex to the revision committee, to give them something to do.

Their initial concern was overt cultural sexuality, what one committee member called “using women in bikinis to sell automobiles.” That sounds kind of quaint now, except consider 21st century commercialization of sexuality, the objectification of the body.  The issues broadened themselves – rising divorce rates, the prevalence and prominence of birth control.

So the committee wrote, and the church adopted, teaching about “anarchy in sexual relationships.” Whether they had our particular conversation in mind is unclear, but the trajectory is clear.

What would it look like if we took that teaching seriously now?  What would a real discussion of anarchy and order in sexual relationships, in committed relationships, in covenantal relationships look like? What would it look like if we added purity to peace and unity and discussed covenant in all of this, covenant of baptism, covenant of trust?

If the biblical tradition insists on this; if our theological heritage insists on this; if our church and culture cry out for it; mustn’t we explore covenant now in light of our conflicts, anticipating the church we are called to be?

And to do that, to fully explore the implications of covenant, will be to understand that Amendment B undermines and undercuts what we’ve affirmed across the centuries, and that the thing needs fixed.

I believe that the church I fell in love with, the church that sealed a covenant with me at my baptism (reaffirmed this rmoning), has focused too much energy wrongly.

Not that a discussion about sexuality is wrong. We have made the case, and we will keep making it. It is the hand we’ve been dealt in this era, the conversation for our time. It’s why we are here.

But can we not contemplate contradictions and sustain differences in the Presbyterian family without going off the deep end, and to be made stronger by them? Can we not witness to justice faithfully and tend to the wellness of the body at the same time? Can we not nurture the points of tension and balance – and even contradiction – in this gift of covenant?

• The covenant with God, who keeps covenant with us…
• The covenant with our LGBT sisters and brothers – the ones most directly affected by this broken covenant…
• The covenant within our little part of the body and beyond, the broader network – even those who would oppose us…
• The covenant with our baptism promises and our ordination vows…

Allow me two brief interpretive maneuvers.

I planned to quote Barack Obama’s extraordinary speech on race regardless of Tuesday’s outcome. In Philadelphia in March, he said,

“I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together – unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction…If we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges…that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.”

Might a covenanting, covenantal church overhear?

And might we overhear the rock band U2, loud noise to some, an oldies band to others, a strong voice to my generation? On the brink of schism, U2 wrote a song that has been interpreted to represent many things, including the reunification of East and West Germany and the healing of a father-son relationship. The song is called “One.”

“One love/ One blood/One life/ One life/ With each other/ Sisters/ Brothers/

“One life/ But we’re not the same/ We get to / Carry each other/ Carry each other…”

What’s in a name…Covenant Network. Something more, I pray, than a religious political party living within a denomination that is more than a voluntary association.

A network by any other name would build up the church, transform the church, that it become ever more generous and just.

A covenant by any other name would be that unbreakable promise and relationship.

Preparing for his death, Joshua places a stone against an oak tree to commemorate the covenant; he builds a covenant foundation.

As living stones, may every breath, every act, be of praise and justice, love and hope, and renew the covenant always, until the dawning of the perfect day.   Amen.

Barbara K. Lundblad
Professor of Preaching, Union Theological Seminary (NY)

Isaiah 56: 1 – 8, Matthew 15: 21 – 28

I am deeply honored that you invited a Lutheran to be part of this gathering – a tangible sign of our full communion agreement. While we may be in full communion, Lutherans and Presbyterians aren’t always on the same page. (You may have experienced that already.) Specifically, I’m talking about the lectionary page.  During this long green season of Ordinary Time, we continue to share the same Gospel reading Sunday by Sunday. But we go our separate ways with the First Reading. You follow the Revised Common Lectionary, reading in a three-year cycle through the great stories of the Old Testament. The Lutheran lectionary appoints an Old Testament text chosen to correspond to the Gospel.

So it was on August 17, we all heard about the Canaanite woman. But while you were reading about Joseph in Genesis 45, we Lutherans were reading the Isaiah text we just heard. Well, not exactly. Our appointed text was Isaiah 56: 1, (comma) 6-8. Why the comma? What didn’t somebody want us to hear? The eunuchs — the eunuchs are in the comma. I guess the lectionary committee decided the eunuchs weren’t necessary because the Gospel was about a foreign woman and —

All of a sudden the Canaanite woman jumps up off the page. “What’s the matter with you Lutherans? Couldn’t you read four more verses?” Well, people get anxious if the service goes longer than an hour. Isaiah and Matthew are both talking about foreigners and the lectionary planners thought eunuchs would just be distracting  “So they put the eunuchs in the comma! Don’t you see? Isaiah wanted foreigners and eunuchs together in this text. He even placed them side by side in the same verse:  “Do not let the foreigner joined to the Lord say, ‘The Lord will surely separate me from his people;’ and do not let the eunuch say, ‘I am just a dry tree.’” What Isaiah put together let not the Lutherans put asunder.”

I wanted to ask the Canaanite woman how she knew so much about the Hebrew prophet, but I have a feeling that she knew the answer.  After all, she stands in a long line of stories about who can be part of God’s covenant people and who cannot.  Threads of exclusion and expansion are woven together in the great tapestry of the Bible with no attempt to get rid of one or the other. As we heard this morning, “biblical tradition is saturated with contradiction.”

• Ruth, the woman of Moab, becomes great, great grandmother to Israel’s greatest king, and she lives in the same testament as Esther the faithful Jew who saved her people, God’s chosen people
• The Ninevites – consummate evil empire — repent and receive God’s forgiveness in the book of Jonah, only a few pages from Daniel, the faithful Jew who refuses to bow to any God but the God of Israel

And Isaiah, writing after exile, seems to open the door to everybody, not only foreigners but eunuchs:
For thus says the Lord:

To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant, I will give, in my house and within my walls, a monument and a name better than sons and daughters. (Is. 56: 4)

How could Isaiah say such a thing? Surely he knew the prohibition: “Those whose testicles are crushed or whose penis is cut off shall not be admitted to the assembly of the Lord.” (Deuteronomy 23: 1, page 166 in your pew Bibles)  This text isn’t in the lectionary and if it’s ever read aloud, men usually cross their legs! The prohibition was written down. Whether someone was born a eunuch or castrated later in life, the text is clear. Where did Isaiah get this new word? “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” said the prophet, “because the Lord has anointed me, and sent me to bring good news to the oppressed…” (Isaiah 61: 1a) That is, the Spirit didn’t wait until Luke chapter 4. Isaiah dared to proclaim a new word different from the word written down. If he had been a literalist, he could not have spoken this expansive word.

The promise of a monument and a name is yad vashem in Hebrew. Yad Vashem, the Jerusalem memorial to those who were lost in the holocaust, especially those who had no children or those whose lives were cut off before they could bear children. The promise to them is yad vashem – “a monument and a name better than sons or daughters, an everlasting name which shall not perish.” This is Isaiah’s word out of exile to the childless eunuch: do not call yourself a dry tree; I have given you a name better than sons or daughters.

Let me be clear:  there is no indication that eunuchs in Isaiah’s text were gay, bisexual or transgender – though it seems likely they weren’t lesbian! In his book The Exegetical Imagination Jewish interpreter Michael Fishbane invites readers to bring their own experiences and questions to the biblical text:

The rhetorical question, ‘to what does this matter compare?’ opens up a hermeneutical space in which similarity is imagined…The significance of a similitude is thus that life serves to explain the text, and it gives a concreteness or directness to the text which it might otherwise not have. (1)

Perhaps the biblical texts are indeed as dynamic as Stacy Johnson told us yesterday afternoon, as dialogical as Walter Brueggemann told us this morning. We’re invited to bring our life stories and experiences to the text, to open an interpretive space in which similarity is imagined. We need not turn the eunuch into a homosexual to see the similitude between his life and the lives of those judged as “other” based on gender identity alone. A eunuch is a man, yet not quite a man. He doesn’t measure up to the culture’s definition of what is masculine. A eunuch is defined by his genitals even if the term “eunuch” is sometimes used metaphorically.  Though eunuchs often hold positions of responsibility in the military, as teachers, as personal attendants to kings and queens, as financial officers – like the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts chapter 8 – eunuchs are still seen as “other” in the culture. 

Even if a eunuch has a high position in the military or the king’s court, the written text makes it clear that a eunuch has no place “in the assembly of the Lord.”  Yet, Isaiah promises eunuchs just such a place: a place in God’s house and within God’s walls. Perhaps Isaiah already knew what our brother Walter dared to tell us today: “God violates Torah for the sake of relationship.”

Let me be clear about something else: Isaiah didn’t make this bold promise to eunuchs because they were eunuchs. No, it was because they keep the Sabbath and do those things that please God, because they hold fast God’s covenant. A few years ago a gay Orthodox rabbi wrote an article for the journal Tikkun. For obvious reasons he used a pseudonym Yakov Lavado:

In these verses Isaiah is speaking to his ancient Israelite community and trying to convince them that God’s covenantal plan for Israel is larger than they think…He speaks to two obvious outsider groups…the foreigners of non-Israelite birth, and the eunuchs…In the chain of the covenantal family, the foreigner has no past and the eunuch no future…It is their “exclusion” that the prophet addresses. The prophet comforts the pain of eunuchs with the claim that there are other ways in which to observe, fulfill, and sustain the covenant…(2)

Isaiah’s promise is deeper than a new category of people. For too long, categories have been the beginning and end of our moral deliberations in the church:  heterosexuality is good, homosexuality is bad; heterosexuals are good; homosexuals are bad. But categories alone cannot bear the weight of moral discernment. Isaiah spoke not only of eunuchs as a category, but of “eunuchs who keep my sabbath, who do the things that please me.” Rabbi Levado is clear that Isaiah’s promise goes deeper than category to covenant:

Gay people cannot be asked to be straight, but they can be asked to “hold fast to the covenant.” God will work the story out and link the loose ends as long as we hold fast to the covenant…Holding fast to the covenant demands that I seek a path toward sanctity in gay life…being gay does not free me from the fulfillment of mitzvoth. The complexities generated by a verse in Leviticus need not unravel my commitment to the whole of Torah. (3)

Krister Stendahl of blessed memory spoke a similar word within the Lutheran Church: “We must handle our sexuality responsibly. For Christians that means according to the principles of fidelity and mutuality. Such responsibility applies equally to those who have come to know themselves as homosexual.” (4) Of course, many Lutherans, including bishops, have protested saying, “How can we overturn two thousand years of Church teaching?” Longevity of tradition does not insure its faithfulness. It is possible to be wrong for a long time.

Even Jesus discovered that when he ventured into the region of Tyre and Sidon. He shouldn’t have been surprised to meet a Canaanite woman for this was her home. He was the one out of place. Some have tried to deal with this troubling story by saying that Jesus was testing the Canaanite woman to see if she really had faith. Well, that sometimes works to get Jesus off the hook. But in recent years, many New Testament scholars have dared to stop making excuses for Jesus’ harsh words to this desperate Canaanite mother. Mary Hinkle who teaches New Testament across the river at Luther Seminary speaks directly to the Canaanite woman:

Did you teach the teacher? I think you did. When he finally heard you and saw the face of your fierce need, God’s own Son came to see his life’s work as bigger than before. What he had not thought to look for in someone like you, he saw: faith. He saw your tenacious conviction that he could help, and amazed, he did.

I have thought that fear makes it impossible to imagine things. “Perfect fear casts out all imagination,” I have thought. But you were afraid—you must have been afraid of the demon and of your daughter’s suffering and afraid of all those foreign men and all their insults. You must have been afraid, yet you could see a new thing—“healing—at the same time…You imagined healing before it happened and you showed it to the Healer. (5)

Jesus heard this Canaanite woman and he was changed. Could it be that he also remembered “the covenantal God who is capable of self-criticism” (WB)?  If Jesus could be changed to see and act in a new way, can the Church also be changed? If Isaiah could speak a new word that contradicted the word written down, can we hear God speaking a new word in our own time?  The Canaanite woman dared to claim her right to crumbs that fell from master’s table. Many people in this sanctuary have been given crumbs and have been told to be satisfied. We have lived in the commas of Presbyterian propositions and endless Lutheran sexuality studies. Some have given up and gone away. But some of us stubbornly stay because we believe that “God has determined not to be God without us” (SJ). We believe we have been given a monument and a name, a place within God’s house — not because we are sexual and gender minorities. But because it is possible to be gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender and hold fast to God’s covenant.

Mark Twain was once asked, “Do you believe in infant baptism?” to which he replied, “Believe in it – hell, I’ve seen it.” We’ve seen something, too, haven’t we?  GLBTQ people in congregations small and large who are faithful to God’s covenant – people who believe that “God is for us, that Christ is with us, that the Spirit is present among us” (SJ). People whose committed relationships are marked by fidelity and mutuality, and hopefully blessed by the church even when the state refuses.

Soon we will see something miraculous right here: the eunuch and the Canaanite woman will come off the page to stand with us. Then each of us will reach out our hands for a piece of bread that is barely bigger than a crumb. But we believe it is more than a crumb. This is the Bread of the New Covenant. This is the very Bread of Life given for each of us. This bread will be sufficient tonight and forever.

Notes:

• Michael Fishbane, The Exegetical Imagination: On Jewish Thought and Theology (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1998) 3
• Yakov Lavado, “Gayness and God: Wrestlings of an Orthodox Rabbi,” Tikkun, 8:5, 58 and 59
• Kevado, 59
• Krister Stendahl, “Can Bishops Tell the Truth as They See It?” in Deborah A. Brown, ed., Christianity in the 21st Century (New York: Crossroad Publishing, 2000), 188
• Mary Hinkle, “Letter to a Canaanite Woman” (sermon preached at Luther Seminary)

Insights from Stacy Johnson’s  and Walter Brueggemann’s presentations at this conference  are identified by their initials.

Eily Marlow
Lilly Project Program Associate
Macalaster College

Genesis 32:22-33:4 ; Hebrews 6:9-12

When told that the theme of the conference was covenant, to be honest my first thought was back to my ordination exams.    There is much talk in seminary about this extraneous hoop we maneuver.  But there is an equally universal experience when you’re actually confronted with the four session members who all misunderstand the most primary concepts of baptism.  You don’t need to be in ministry long before you encounter your ordination exam question in real life and see your worship professor mouthing ‘I told you so.’   

Well, I passed my ordination exams writing on covenant, but this morning to my theology professors’ chagrin, you will probably hear little of my answer.  With great theologians and biblical scholars in our midst, I thought it best to stick to my greatest knowledge base – the realm of the pastoral and how covenant is uncovered amidst fresh challenges faced by this new generation.  In our achievement-based culture, today one’s place in God’s chosen community fights for relevancy with one’s position in society’s chain of command.   Within this new generation there exists “a vulnerable but promising self” that is being fought for daily.   Beyond the place where integrity wrestles with the will to win, there is a self that is ever searching for a fitting home.  

 This might be why I was so drawn to the story of Jacob.  Throughout this conference we will surely hear of the great patriarchs and matriarchs who were the earliest recipients of the promissory covenant.   The covenant made before Sinai where God first performed the very radical act of choosing a people.  It was here a stoic Abraham and unwavering Isaac faithfully respond to this divine gift.  Jacob, though, is the new generation.  Equally chosen, his life is riddled with conflict, uncertainty and betrayal.   Jacob is this new generation living with great vulnerability and promise.   He holds onto an immense calling laden with moral choices that will brand him faithful to some and to others seriously depraved. 

One of these vulnerabilities is Jacob’s precarious place within the tradition.  As you will recall, in contrast to his brother Esau who is described as “a hairy, skillful hunter and a man of the field,” a sort of Todd Palin kind of guy,  Jacob is “a quiet man with soft skin.”  Not a man of the fields, but a man “living in tents.”   Just as many cultures organize public and private spheres by gender, “tent space” in the ancient near east was domestic space dominated by women.  A Presbyterian homiletics professor suggested naming a sermon based on Jacob, “Not a God for Sissies.”  But Jacob is a sissy of sorts.  The text suggests that he does not conform to traditional gender roles. 

Though even beyond this cultural taboo, Jacob knew that it was not just his fundamental nature that might keep him outside of the promise;  categorically it was beyond his reach.  Human life at this time was structured so that the older child received the blessing, and his brother Esau was that child.  Walter Brueggemann states that j“primogeniture is not simply one rule among many.  It is the linchpin of an entire social and legal system which defines rights and privileges.”  Jacob has two strikes against him.  Perhaps if he was not “a man of the tent,” he would be able to prove he was the stronger son.  Or, if only he was born first and was older then Esau, then even if he was not masculine he would be given the privileges bestowed by society.  But neither scenario is real, and therefore Jacob must live with this great insecurity that he is sitting on the margins of something great.  At the bottom of his gut he worries he sits just outside of God’s inheritance.  
  
Humans will go to ridiculous extremes to receive others’ affirmation, but we will go to even greater ones for confirmation that we are blessed by God.  At his mother’s pleading Jacob dresses up as his brother, using animal fur to rough up his skin in order to steal the blessing from his brother.

In the GLBT community, we call this trying to pass. 

And whether you identify as gay or straight, many of us have attempted this in our own lives. Allow me to use an example from my own.   The day before my examination on the floor of Presbytery, I went to get my hair cut.  For the very first time I walked into this expensive salon in my neighborhood and luckily there was an open chair.   As the hairstylist was washing my hair, I shared with him why I was getting a hair cut.  I explained what happens in an ordination examination, and why as an out lesbian I needed all the confidence I could get.    Now as he sat me in his chair, this gay man took one look at me and shook his head as if to say, “You are not going up there like that.”  What was first a hair cut ended up being my first ever eyebrow trim and an on-the-house head of $100 highlights.  The day of my examination my mother dressed me in her prized Norwegian sweater, pewter buttons and all, and laced me in my grandma’s pearls.  In back of all our minds was the unspoken idea that maybe even though I would say the word ‘lesbian,’ somehow like Isaac the Presbytery would be tricked by the disguise.  I would look enough like one who is traditionally chosen that the word would soften to the ear in favor of what the eye confirmed. 

Jacob’s own passing does not really pan out for him.  Although he receives the blessing, his brother is totally outraged and vengeful; Jacob becomes estranged from his family and lives a life questioning his own credibility.

Jacob discovers what many of us do when we end up playing the part of the other brother.  To prove this point, let me go back to my Presbytery meeting.   At the end my successful examination, my friend and mentor Janie Spahr and I were playing back the examination and she told me that I had used “he” for God!  We looked at each other in great horror!  Having worked in the denomination’s office of women’s advocacy educating the church on inclusive language – I betrayed my own understanding of God and had absolutely no recollection of having done it.   The danger of passing is that we not only become estranged from the self but from our deepest understanding of the divine. 

So Jacob does not receive resolution and must continue to live with an insecure blessing.  Has my family really chosen me, or is this just a loop hole?   Does God really see me as a recipient of covenant, or am I just a trickster with a bad case of entitlement?  Am I following God’s will or manipulating people and things for my own power?

Jacob ends up estranged from his family, and it is only when he is now totally bewildered and alone that God intrudes onto a scene which has until now been humanly orchestrated.

We know from the biblical narratives that there are very few encounters with God outside of messy lives and subsequent human heartache.   Perhaps God realizes that when we are most vulnerable, there is greater probability we will open to the promise.  And at these moments when we are in total anguish, God knows that we are to be approached with great care.  Thus God often comes to us in the darkness, when the shock of God’s intrusion is absorbed by the night.

God first meets Jacob in a dream as he sleeps at Bethany, gifting him with a vision of a ladder to heaven, assuring him of his lineage. He is a grandchild of Abraham, an unquestionable heir of the covenant.  There should be no doubt that the promise is extended to him.   “I will keep you,” God says, in intimate language almost more persuasive than lineage talk.  “I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”  

And after this encounter with God, Jacob does go on to live into the wealth and family promised to him.  But the covenantal promise does not end there.  Years later the time comes when he must finally return to his homeland to fulfill the promise, and this requires a meeting with Esau.   And even though Jacob has now encountered God like Isaac and Abraham before him, nothing can stop him from fearing this reunion.  Jacob is still vulnerable to a belief that covenant assurance and blessings reside in the human sphere.  His fear and insecurity are palpable as he divides up his family and sends ahead of him great gifts for appeasement.  He knows that Esau could very well kill him for what he has done; and in the midst of his anxious preparations Jacob remembers the glorious and tender assurance of promise God bestowed upon him when estranged in Bethany.  Again feeling totally bewildered, those divine memories show him where to go.  He crosses over the river away from his family to once again sleep alone.  Before meeting his brother, he goes searching for God, something experience has shown comes most easily in the cover of night.

And God does not come delicately approaching Jacob, knowing he is a frightened soul, but instead a stranger arrives assaulting him with unrelenting force.

The night before having to meet my session, after getting called back for yet another meeting because the church had been in great turmoil over the support of my candidacy, I had a dream.

I was hiking with a group of people; all with big backpacks, we walked in a line through a beautiful field.  As I looked around me I started to feel a sense of familiarity.  I realized I knew this place!   I was with a woman and I ran up to the man leading the hike and asked if I could take her to some near-by small towns I knew.  The guide said “No, two women are not safe going alone.”  We continued walking and we approached a church where we would stay the night.  As we entered the front hall there on the ground were the boots and clothes of two women piled up as though the women had combusted into thin air leaving just a mound of clothes behind.  I asked the pastor what had happened and she simply said, “It is not safe for two women to go alone.”  As our group shuffled into the church, the pastor explained how the perpetrator of this crime was unknown but that he would be among those welcomed into the church.  As people flooded in to greet us, I became terrified.  Not knowing what to do, I quickly hid under a table as each individual entered the fellowship hall.  Then there he was, this stranger, this antagonist.  In sheer panic a system deeper then fight or flight kicked in; I came to understand I would be safer if I was to stand.  With every ounce of energy in my body I stood, and as he turned around I put my hand out smiling as though my life depended on it.  Our hands touched.  Our eyes met.  And I woke up.

After wrestling all night, Jacob finally prevails.   He looks this antagonist in the eye and says, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”  And whether this stranger is the Holy One or not, I believe that Jacob, after years of wrestling with humans, now thoroughly believes he is wrestling with God.  This divine force looks at Jacob and instead of giving him a blessing asks him his name.   Jacob’s life long question – blessed or unblessed – is set aside by this One who seeks to address the core concern.  In my mind’s eye, here is God crushed by Jacob’s weight, and that of his struggle, taking Jacob’s face gently into the palms of God’s hands.  God looks him in the eyes, face to face with God’s chosen one and tenderly asks, “What is your name?”  I would guess this is the moment Jacob comes to believe he is a bearer of the covenant.  He does not say ‘Esau,’ ‘grandchild of Abraham,’ ‘tent sitter’ or ‘wealth maker.’  Jacob does not say ‘betrayer of Isaac’ or ‘undeserving one.’  For the first time, the human drama is peeled away and he looks at God and simply says, ‘Jacob.’  He sits in front of the one who has been for him both antagonist and promise bearer. He sits completely in his vulnerability and promise, and all that exists is pure blessing.

I was sweating and terrified when I woke up from my dream.  And it was then that I too recognized God’s emergence.  An experience we can not often put into words, but it was here in this unfamiliar dawn that all was changed.  As I had equally felt that terrorizing dream, it was balanced with an equally powerful confirmation of God’s presence.   This was not an imagined presence but a very physical one.    My body at once hot and tense suddenly felt cool and fluid.  In my mind, there was an image of a fountain, the water flowing up through my body, and then covering me.  Soothing and consoling, I knew beyond a doubt that I was being bathed in the very water of my baptism.  I had encountered God, and I knew at the depths of my being that my encounter with the church, in which at times I had felt so estranged, could not endanger me.  It was baptism that confirmed my place in the covenant community.  And it was to be with this assurance, I was to face not the enemy but my brother in what was not a heavenly struggle, but a very human one.

God then says to Jacob, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans and have prevailed.”  Only when Jacob stands in front of God as pure Jacob does God verify that he is not only a part of the covenant community, but one of its truest reflections.   The sun rises upon him and he immerges into an unfamiliar dawn, never again having to resort to meeting God in dark places, having now a faith that no longer distinguishes day from night.  

It was the same sun that rose upon Jacob that surfaced this summer at our own reunion at the General Assembly in San Jose.  And it was with this same resilient knowledge of being God’s chosen that 15 young adults of this new generation came to G.A. with That All May Freely Serve.   Even as co-moderator, I was at first a bit skeptical with our organization’s idea to pour all our funds into bringing young people to G.A.   In my work as a college chaplain I often hem and haw about bringing youth, especially GLBT students, to the Assembly.  As they listen to the debate and experience distressing votes, it can be a time of deep estrangement.

But what occurred at this Assembly was an in-breaking of God’s abundant light.   This welcoming generation came to G.A. not preparing for a clash, but focused on the ministry they could bring to this reunion.  Protected by a deep security in their place within the covenant, they welcomed commissioners with hospitality.  Morning and evening, they stood at the convention hall doors handing out coffee and cookies, supplying commissioners with a vision of what living into God’s promise might actually be like.  

And as the sun continues to rise on this new generation – and we have seen it do so this week – so it does on Jacob.  Jacob humbly stands before his brother with all of his imperfections enmeshed with God’s delight.  And though Jacob in the spirit of hospitality brings extravagant gifts, ultimately it is Esau whose move towards reconciliation is reminiscent of God’s very own grace.  Esau, with his own undeniable experiences of pain and betrayal, kissed his brother conspiring with God in shedding even more light.  

So as we go out into a crucially important moment in Presbyterian history, let us heed the wisdom of Hebrews and be “imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.”  Let us walk with Jacob and Esau into unfamiliar places.  Let us rest assured we live a shared covenant that is beyond human meddling if we in fact believe in God’s abundant light.

Amen.

Excerpted and edited
from Address to the 2008 Covenant Conference

William Stacy Johnson
Princeton Theological Seminary

“And I will walk among you and will be your God, and you shall be my people” (Leviticus 26:12).

We Presbyterians are a covenant people who serve and worship a covenant-making God. That phrase from Leviticus, “And I will walk among you,” gives us an astonishing glimpse into God’s fundamental engagement to be our God.  What we discover in this phrase flies in the face of all the stereotypes about the Presbyterian vision of God as aloof, distant, disconnected or dispassionate.  Rather than being distant, God identifies with us in our weakness.  Through the powerful drama of God for us; Christ with us; and the Spirit among us, God chooses to walk among us.  Each movement in this threefold drama merits a special word. 

First, when we say God is “for” us, we mean that God thought of us before we were and brought us into being.  God has set God’s heart upon us, loving us with a love that surpasses even the way we love our own children or other family members. God loves us because God can’t help but love us.  No matter what we do, God is determined to be our God.

Second, when we say God is “with” us, we are intensifying the stakes.  If I happen to be for someone in distress, I might fax them or email them and say, “I’m for you.”  That gesture might give a certain kind of comfort.  Yet by itself it is inadequate.  What people in distress really need is someone who is not only for them, but someone who is with them.  They need not just sentiment; but solidarity. The Christian claim is that God is in solidarity with us.  God is not content to remain aloof from humanity, but in Jesus Christ, God determined to become one with human beings.  The Word became flesh in Jesus Christ, Immanuel, God with us.  This solidarity is at the heart of the Christian understanding of covenant.  And the compelling nature of this solidarity invites us to give ourselves in solidarity with and for one another.

This leads us to the third point.  The God who is for us and with us in Jesus Christ is also at work “among” us by the Spirit’s power.  When we say God is “among” us, we signal that God’s very own life is being shared with us as we respond to God’s grace in faith.  In other words, the covenant must come full circle: “I will be your God, and you will be my people.”  As we are told in 1 Peter 2:5, God dwells among us in order to build us up into a spiritual house, in which each  of us is valued as a living stone.  God has a stake in what happens to each one of us.  Each one of us is special to God’s covenant, and particularly those who have been shoved to the margins of the community.  There is a special place in God’s heart for the outcast, the sojourner, the widow, the orphan, the neighbor in need. 

Though God is faithful, we are sinners.  We have not followed through on our covenant obligations.  There is a problem in the spiritual house of the PCUSA.  Our house is broken–so broken, in fact, that only through the grace of God can it be fixed.  The amazing thing, however, is that through the workings of the Spirit of God among us, God wants to fix our house.  The incredible thing is that God chooses to do this gracious work through us.  God’s faithfulness is at work through our faithfulness.  God enlists our faithfulness–the faithfulness of all of us–to accomplish God’s purposes.
 
So how will God’s work among us play out as the church seeks to discern God’s will regarding Amendment 08-B?  Only time will tell.  But one of the great questions facing the PCUSA is how to move forward despite deep differences. How are we to build a spiritual house for all God’s people?  To put it concretely, how will our church avoid an unfortunate splintering, or even an ugly split?  My belief is that we need to move beyond the conservative-liberal culture wars that have run through our church’s life for so long.  We need to move beyond solutions in which one side wins and the other loses.  In such a cut-throat game, we are all the losers. 

So then, what should be our stance on the proposed amendment 08-B?  Does it offer healing to our broken house or more strife?  In order to assess this question, it helps if we stand back and consider how our differences over human sexuality have played out over the last 30 years.  My views on this are influenced by the British theologian, Rowan Williams, who is now Archbishop of Canterbury.

One group has sought to deal with human sexuality by asking, “Am I obeying the rules?”  This is the group that championed the current version of G-6.0106b. Sexual conduct is permissible if it conforms to certain standards intended for heterosexual couples. The problem for gay and lesbian couples is that even when they comply with these rules in substance, they still fail to comply with them in form.  Their faithfulness goes unrecognized; their longing for inclusion in the church’s family goes unfulfilled. 

According to Rowan Williams, another group seeks to approach sexual ethics by asking the question, “Am I being sincere?”  Sexual conduct is right if it is an authentic expression of concern for the other.  An objective standard based on rules is replaced by a subjective one based on feelings or experience.  This second approach may be more accommodating to gays and lesbians, but it also leaves things exceedingly vague.  How elastic is the rubric of “sincerity”?

Neither of these two approaches is adequate.  Instead, argues Williams, we need to ask a different sort of question, namely, “What does my life show forth?”  To what extent is the love life of a candidate for ordained church leadership a demonstration of the gospel?  In the case of exclusively-committed gay or lesbian candidates for church leadership, to what reality is their relationship bearing witness? 

With this as a guiding question, does Amendment 08-B have theological integrity?  This is the question we should be asking–not merely will it pass or will it not.  Does this amendment help us seek a greater point of theological faithfulness? 

One of the interesting things about 08-B is that it combines the subjective attention to sincerity with the objective insistence upon standards and rules.  Listen to its last sentence, which will replace the last sentence of current G-6.0106b. 

“Every governing body charged with examination for ordination and/or installation, establishes the candidate’s sincere efforts to adhere to these standards.” 

One advantage of this language is that it now makes explicit in the Book of Order a longstanding principle of Presbyterian polity: that we have church-wide standards, together with local discretion in applying those standards.  By now this framework should be familiar to everyone who has read the report of the Task Force on the Peace, Unity, and Purity of the Church.  The Task Force insisted that the church’s standards apply to everyone, even while reminding us that these standards must be applied with practical wisdom on a case-by-case basis.

The language of 08-B does a similar thing.  It improves on the current G-6.0106b by making clear that these standards flow from the church’s relationship to Jesus Christ himself, as witnessed to in Scripture, and as interpreted through the lens of the Book of Confessions.  Here is what it says: “Those who are called to ordained service in the church, by their assent to the constitutional questions for ordination and installation (W-4.4003) pledge themselves to live lives obedient to Jesus Christ the Head of the Church, striving to follow where he leads through the witness of the Scriptures, and to understand the Scriptures through the instruction of the Confessions.”

The controversial question is whether the new amendment changes the current standards.  By removing the “fidelity and chastity” language from the Book of Order, does it undermine high standards of sexual ethics?  Not if we take seriously the language about Christ himself as the standard.  Not if we all turn to Scripture and the Book of Confessions as our guides.  This new language invites all ordained officers to an even more rigorous self-examination as we aspire to an even more demanding life of faithfulness.  Taking Jesus Christ as our standard invites us to ask of every ordained leader whether his or her life bears witness to Christ. 

When read in this way, 08-B follows both the letter and the spirit of the Task Force’s work.  It invites Presbyterians of diverse perspectives to come together around our common allegiance to the person and work of Jesus Christ.  It calls for us to transcend the impasse between objective rules versus subjective sincerity by underscoring that both are important.  We need moral standards, but each of us also needs the grace of God and the support of the body of Christ in the living out of those standards. 

So where do we go from here?  I think it’s time for us to quit fighting over gay sexuality and get on with the business of building up the church and seeking to embody God’s purposes.  God’s covenant faithfulness is clear: “I will be your God!”  We need an approach that will allow all of us to join together in a single chorus: “We will be your people!”   We can join this chorus in confidence, trusting in the God who would rather die than break covenant with us.

Walter Brueggemann
Professor of Old Testament Emeritus
Columbia Theological Seminary

(Précis of his presentation to the 2008 Covenant Conference)

The God of the Bible is a covenant-maker and a covenant-keeper. But the matter is more complex than that. With Abraham God makes a covenant that is unilateral and unconditional. With Moses at Sinai God makes a covenant that is bilateral and conditional. The two traditions of covenant are not easily reconciled and signify that God can operate in more than one mode. Indeed, the twinned traditions suggest that God has an internal contradiction in God’s on-going relation with ancient Israel.

That contradiction means that God has some internal space in which to continue to redecide, always again, about covenant. It is evident, moreover, that God’s character, as given in these traditions, requires uncommon artistic imagination in order to voice and communicate the rich thickness of God’s disposition toward God’s partner. That internal complexity, moreover, issues in God’s external complexity as known and experienced in the life of the world. All of these factors—internal complexity, artistic articulation, and external complexity—indicate that the God of the Bible is a dialogic character who engages in an on-going complex transaction with God’ partners. It is a relation that remains open and unsettled, and stands at a great distance from the more familiar categories of God that are static in terms of “omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence.” This character of God requires as covenant partners very different kinds of folks in very different kind of communities.

The dialogical character of God requires that God’s partners—in synagogue and in church—should themselves be dialogical persons, that is, remaining open for new gifts and new commandments. This dialogical practice of faith is most clearly voiced in the book of Psalms that is a mix of hymns and laments of protest. The hymns present Israel as ceding its life gladly over to the rule of God. The laments of protest present Israel as claiming its life over against God and insisting on its own entitlements. Maturity of faith is the capacity to move back and forth between hymn and lament, between ceding and claiming. These actions are seen in the Book of Psalms to be commensurate with God’s own way in covenant.
It is obviously not easy to keep covenant and to remain in a dialogic posture. We can readily identify two temptations to move out of risk of a covenantal life into something safer. On the one hand there is a temptation to absolutism that I judge to be the conservative temptation, to settle things in clear certitudes so that there is no risky openness about the future with God. Such a temptation amounts to nothing less than idolatry, the production of a God who we are able to control.  The second temptation is autonomy that I judge to be the liberal temptation. It is to imagine that we are self-starters and not accountable to another. This amounts to atheism which in the Bible is termed the foolishness that imagines that there is no God.

Diane Givens Moffett
Pastor, St James Presbyterian Church, Greensboro, NC

Isaiah 61:8-9; John 3:16; Acts 15:1-3

Many of you may have heard the story of a little girl who was about six years old. She was in school and it was time for an art lesson. The teacher said that this little girl hardly ever paid attention, but at this drawing lesson she did. The teacher was fascinated and went over to her and asked, What are you drawing? The girl said, I’m drawing a picture of God. The teacher said, But nobody knows what God looks like. The girl said, They will in a minute. This little girl was confident in what she was drawing. She was using her creativity and her experience to make a picture of God based upon her understanding, and as limited as it may have been, it was meaningful and valid for her.

Now while some may laugh or smile at this incident, I believe that many people do the same thing. We create God in our image. We draw pictures of God based upon our understanding. And while our experience may be valid for us, we have only part of the story because God transcends our understanding. God is larger than our experience, bigger than our background and greater than our grounding. Through the history of humanity and in this nation where we have witnessed the election of Senator Barack Obama, the first African-American man to become President of this country, we can see how God keeps breaking out of the boxes we place God in, refusing to be shaped in our image, defined by our minds, and drawn with our limited understanding.

Because you see while there is no harm in using one’s divine imagination and inspired creativity to paint a picture of who we believe God to be, a problem arises when our picture is not in keeping with the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ. He represents the new covenant and promise of God to the world. He came to establish this new covenant with whosoever would believe in Him. Jesus places no condition on the whosoever. He does not speak about one’s place, state or condition in life. He does not make mention of one’s marital status, one’s sexuality, or how old or young one may be. Jesus does not say that one’s gender, race and ethnicity—whether one is white, or black, brown, red or yellow–determines our salvation. He does not say that one’s religion or creed is the basis of our liberation. Jesus places no limitations on the proclamation; he states that whosoever will believe in Him will not perish but have everlasting life. And through this open-ended invitation God illustrates what I call a comprehensive covenant.

A comprehensive covenant is a promise that God makes to all believers. It is a covenant that extends to all disciples of Jesus Christ. My dad who is now deceased was an insurance salesman. As I child I learned about the business as he interacted with clients in his home office. I learned the importance of being fully covered when it comes to life insurance. Full coverage was often expensive, especially if you were purchasing a whole life policy. Yet full coverage is what Dad recommended because comprehensive coverage includes everything. It protects the insured and his or her family from all loss—one who holds a comprehensive policy is in good hands.  

In the same way those who believe in Jesus are in good hands when it comes to the covenant God makes with us through Him because it is a comprehensive covenant. The covenant guarantees the salvation and secures the liberation of all those who believe in Jesus.   The covenant is an assurance policy, purchased in full by God’s Son and our Savior, Jesus Christ on behalf of the family of God.  We did not pay for this coverage because we could not afford the bill.  Rather, as the hymn writer says, Jesus paid it all… All to Him I owe. Sin had left the crimson stain. He washed it white as snow.   All believers are heirs to this assurance policy, inheritors of the new covenant made possible through our faith in Christ.

It is no surprise then that Paul and Barnabas entered into sharp debates and disputes with the early church when beyond faith in Christ, an additional demand for the new Gentiles converts was being made in order to secure their salvation.  I appreciate Paul because he places the issue on the table. Some of us don’t like controversy or to speak with those who may not hold our view or agree with our perspectives. Others don’t mind putting up our fist and playing hardballs. Church fights can be ugly. But while some of us may not like debates and disputes—while we may grow tired and weary of the recourse and rhetoric, our Reformed History teaches us that when we argue well and debate openly, a new day can dawn, a new season can emerge, a new time can spring forth and our comprehensive covenant can be strengthened.

A good argument helps strengthen covenant by raising critical questions that help put the issues on the table; a good argument can move us to new insight and a new position. Anyone knows that if you do not address the issue and ask the appropriate questions in a debate, it can lead to inappropriate and even irrelevant conclusions. Just because I am in a donut shop does not make me a donut; but if my question is “Are donuts in a donut shop?” I may come to this conclusion.

When we read the Gospels and roam the pages of Holy Writ, we discover that one of the reasons so many contemporaries of Jesus miss him is that they are raising the wrong questions. Instead of asking what the Spirit of God is doing in Jesus, they ask why Jesus does not follow the law. Instead of celebrating the healing he performs on the Sabbath Day, they asked why he performs a healing work on the Sabbath. Instead of listening to his teaching, ruminating, contemplating and meditating on his Word, they want to question his authority. So often we err in our thinking because we are not asking the right questions nor debating the proper subject.

I am glad to be a part of a denomination that is not afraid to argue and confess the error of our ways. The motto of our Presbyterian Protestant and Reformed tradition is once reformed, always reforming.   We understand that we don’t always get in right in terms of homiletics, hermeneutics, and speaking what thus says the Lord. We understand that from time to time good men and women may err in our understanding of God’s word to us and our embrace of what God is doing in the world. We are a confessing church who questions, critiques and entreats ourselves in order to get right with God and neighbor. Our sometimes fiery and furious debate allows us to see a different picture and make a new sketch that is more in keeping with the God we serve.

It is the arguments and debates and the questions raised, for example regarding the innate right of African-American slaves to be free, in the former Southern and Northern streams of the Presbyterian Church and in this country at large, that helped liberate African-Americans and empower us to serve God and others in the church and in the world. It is the arguments and discussions of equality and justice, righteousness and truth that helped the civil rights movement to save the soul of America and compel her to keep the covenant she made to be one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Many shed tears of joy on November 4th when President-elect Obama won the election for the highest office in this nation, because we know about the blood, sweat and tears, the arguments, protests and debates that the ancestors endured in order to see this day come forth. It was not an easy road to travel. Initiating change and introducing something new seldom is easy. The movement of this country to this present moment did not happen over night, but over time, because people operating in the tradition of Paul and Barnabas, kept raising the issue and questioning the nation about a picture of the land of the free that was seriously flawed.

Looking back at the church, it is from the discussions and debate of the critical questions concerning the leadership of women in the PCUSA that we now mount the pulpits, preach and pastor churches in this denomination. It is from discussion and debate, good arguments that put the problem on the table, that issues are solved and positions changed, not over night, but over time.       

Paul and Barnabas raise the critical questions and issues regarding how to include the Gentiles in the church of their day. It takes some time to change the mental mode of the church leaders. It does not appear to be an easy task. Yet, history shows us that the work of people like Paul, and Barnabas is not in vain. When we invest in our church through arguments and debate out of a sincere desire to keep covenant and to move the church to a more powerful witness, we strengthen our covenant and acknowledge its comprehensive scope. A passionate debate and a good argument help to move people to new positions as we put the issues on the table and listen and learn from each other. Good arguments can also expose the assumptions and mindset we cling to regarding the issues at hand.

The late Reverend Dr. Sandy Ray, Pastor of the Cornerstone Baptist Church of Brooklyn, New York once told the story of some years ago, while he was working in a hospital. The head nurse became desperately ill. He was informed by the surgeon that she was suffering from what he diagnosed as “intestinal cohesion.” Some of the intestines had flattened and no nourishment could pass through her system. She was losing weight and becoming extremely weak. The surgeon had to correct the “cohesion” of the intestines so that food could pass through.

Sometimes the church can get sickly and feeble because we suffer from spiritual cohesion. We reject the life-giving truth and our souls become famished because our minds are closed—especially when we think that no one is right, but us. One thing that Paul and Barnabas appear to have is an open mind. We can see it through the assumption beneath the debate and questions raised by them. It is clear that their assumption is that the Gentile believers, although different from the Jews, are part of God’s covenant and should be included in the church. Just because Jews are circumcised does not mean that Gentiles need to be.

You see, one of things that I remember from seminary (and believe you me there are a lot of things that I do not recall) is this debate between Paul, Barnabas and the elders and apostles in Jerusalem. I was blessed to be under the tutelage of two outstanding scholars and teachers, Bob Coote and Marvin Chaney. They were the Old Testament Professors at San Francisco Theological Seminary when I attended. They were helping us neophytes to understand what was going on with Paul and the Gentile converts. They explained, (and many of us know, but thank you for allowing me to remind you) that there are three overarching covenants made in the Old Testament. The first covenant is with Noah—never to destroy the earth by water. The sign of the covenant is the rainbow. The second covenant is with Moses to free people from bondage and the sign of the covenant is keeping the Sabbath. The third covenant was with Abraham, and the sign of the covenant was circumcision.

When Paul begins converting Gentiles to the faith, some of the early Jewish Christians suggest that these new Gentiles to the faith be brought in under the covenant of Abraham—ouch! Paul does not co-sign with this painful decision, nor does he believe it is required to be saved and an heir to the covenant of Christ. Having witnessed the work of the Spirit, they are challenged to search the scripture to find an overarching covenantal theme that will make sense for bringing the new converts in. If we read further in Act 15:20 and 29, we learn that the Gentiles come in under the first covenant of Noah, which means the only restrictions on new believers are not to eat meat from the blood of strangled animals or from food polluted by idols, and to abstain from sexual immorality.  (That is another sermon and song, but suffice it to say it had little to do with sexual preference and more with sexual promiscuity).

My point is that the question raised for Paul and Barnabas is how to include the Gentiles in the covenant and not how they can be saved. They assume salvation is already there because of the Gentiles belief in Jesus. It is clear that they assume the church to be an inclusive of all believers. An inclusive church operates under the assumption that all believers are heirs to the covenant of Christ and looks for ways to yield to the Spirit while being obedient to the law. And because the law is subject to interpretation, debates will arise, arguments will ensue, disputes will manifest. And while we may grow weary, while we may ask the question, Lord, how long? Know that those who argue well, help move the church to a new place and clarify our assumptions concerning the comprehensive covenant made by Christ.

We bring the church a gift, whether the church knows it or not; and our life can be even more meaningful because of our desire to open our arms to all believers. Paul is known for expanding the Gospel. What will you be known for?  It is my prayer that, as the song says, If I can help somebody as I pass along. If I can cheer somebody with a Word or song. If I can show somebody that they are traveling wrong—then my living will not be in vain.    

When my oldest daughter married, she and her husband were blessed to be counseled by Dr. Ansley Lamar. She said that one of the things she learned from Dr. Lamar was how to argue well. He explained that couples who argue well have an opportunity to learn more about each other and grow in intimacy, love and appreciation of one another. Couples who cease arguing, usually after bitter debates, cut off communication and are more susceptible to breaking the marriage covenant. As they talked about raising children, Dr. Anstey also inserted that he felt it could be a good thing for children to hear their parents argue, especially if it is a good argument—one that is designed to foster learning and love for each other. When parents argue well, and don’t jump ship, and remain open to each other, they teach the next generation what it means to have a comprehensive covenant that stays intact through the peaks and valley of the relationship. In fact the parents model for the children how to love and care for each other through our differences.

Is this not what God calls the church to do? Through fits and starts with controversial issues, when we argue well, it forces us to look outside of the box we place God in. When we argue well we learn that God is doing far more than what we can understand or comprehend. When we argue well, we learn to appreciate one another and the gifts we bring to the table. When we argue well it helps us see the error of our ways, turn to God who is fair and gives people what they should have. When we argue well we demonstrate to all those who look upon us that we are a blessed people of God—a people who can work together, pray together, play together, worship together, because despite our differences we are all covered under the covenant of Christ. 

When we argue well we are able to see new colors and new shades that help paint a more accurate picture of the God who shares a comprehensive covenant and saves whosoever will believe in him! The hymn writer William Kirkpatrick spoke truth when he wrote, I have heard the joyful sound, Jesus saves. Jesus saves. Spread the tidings all around, Jesus saves. Jesus saves. To the utmost, Jesus saves. To the utmost Jesus saves. He will pick you up and turn you round, hallelujah, Jesus saves.