Sermons

Office First Church 7/19/26 Office First Church 7/19/26

July 19 - “Invisibility”

July 19, 2026

Kyle Tong

Invisibility

Today’s reading from Genesis tempts me to climb into a time machine—to place myself in the shoes of Jacob in a modern context. Hypothetically, young Kyle has eyes for the beautiful Deborah and wishes to marry her, one of the four Varnum girls. Her father says that I must work for the family business for a period of time before he would consent to the marriage. After the requisite period the father says only the third child is available—take it or leave it. I go into a loveless marriage and we subsequently divorce because I only see Deb. Her father says this is not possible unless you continue to work in the company with loss of all assets if you leave. You must also show your loyalty for a period of five years—what a chain around my neck!!!

What is wrong with my telling of this story and the story of Jacob, Leah, and Rachel. The issue is the absolute invisibility of the central characters of the stories—the women. We know nothing about the perspectives, the aspirations, the wants, and the beliefs of the daughters. In both stories—the fathers treated their daughters as chattel and we the reader are conditioned to not bat an eye.

This is standard operating procedure in the text of the Judeo-Christian Bible as we read it today in English in the Protestant tradition. Women are largely absent in the Bible and when we do see them, they are primarily invisible, objectified, or presented as a cautionary tale

If the Bible is a recording of the journey of the Judeo-Christian faith you would expect a reflection in the tales of the humanity present. Women, using a metaphoric phrase, represent “Half the Sky” and therefore should be seen in the Good Book on nearly equal footing as men. If one was to do a quantitative study of gender references in the Bible we would find it heavily skewed towards the masculine both in content and in its choice traditionally to give pronouns to God—such as He, Him, Lord, and Father.

Objectification is most clearly seen in the portrayal of Mary, the mother of Jesus. She is deified as the vessel of Christ—the Virgin Mary. Upon the birth of the baby Jesus she then becomes invisible—her job is done. The mother who raised Christ from infancy to young adulthood is unheard of. She is venerated, then objectified, and unknown, and ultimately dehumanized.

The most common portrayal of women in the Bible is ascribing negative attributes to them. There is Eve who is the temptress with the apple who creates the fall of man. Lot’s wife who was not even named, lacks the self-discipline and will to not look back and turns into a pillar of salt. And the fallen women who litter the Bible such as Mary Magdalene.

How then did this invisibility in text translate into cultural invisibility within the construction of the western Christian Church?

It started early on with the institutionalization of the story that we now know as the Gospels and the New Testament. In the Early Centuries of the Church there were several competing perspectives of the Gospels and the works of the people spreading the Good News. They were not exclusively male. Prominent among them was the Gospel according to Mary Magdalene.

In this gospel, that survived in Coptic and Greek texts, Mary was central to the leadership of the apostles following Jesus’ death, comforting them through their grieving and redirecting their focus forward. In the gospel Mary recalls conversations with the risen Jesus who teaches her about ultimate reality and the ascent of the soul spiritually. The soul, according to Mary, must navigate hostile tests to reach its spiritual peace.

This was reacted to negatively by many of the apostles who doubted that Jesus would share the ultimate mysteries with a woman. As a result, in the subsequent politics that followed as the years passed, her voice was lost.

With the elimination of women from the telling of the story came the elimination of women from the structure of Church Leadership. In the Western (Roman Catholic) Church women had no role outside of total service. And that could be done only if they gave up their roles as women within familial society

Men had total control over women’s lives and if women exerted independence the penalty was often fierce and brutal.

An example of this was the young and vibrant military leader Jean D’Arc, Joan of Arc. Joan was a supporter of King Charles VII of France during the Hundred Years War. She had visions that angels had told her that she was to save France from English incursions. She was the hero of the Battle of Orleans and Patay. Her support at court withered as a siege failed and she was captured by the enemy. She was put on trial by an English Bishop for the crime of heresy and demonic visions. She was found guilty and burned at the stake. Her soul’s goodness was based on her military success for her male leaders.

Anne Hutchinson was a pious woman who moved with her husband and 15 children to Boston in the early 1630’s, following the Rev. Cotton. She believed, as did Cotton, in the principle of salvation by grace alone and felt that the religious leadership in the Bay Colony was drifting to a philosophy of faith by good works. She held prayer groups and spoke out against the tenets of the leadership. She was placed on trial for her voice and was exiled and excommunicated. Cotton was not punished. She moved to Rhode Island, where she miscarried after months in detention, and then to Long Island where she and her family were killed in an Indian attack. The leadership in Boston was satisfied that these events were retribution for her heresies.

This putative relationship with women who attempt to be change agents has in many ways continued to the present day. The majority of Church institutions forbid or strongly discourage women in the ministry. The language of the Bible continues to be male dominant, though there have been great efforts to rectify the text by reexamining the originals and not assuming it is a male perspective or pronoun. Scholars are looking at the wealth of the early Greek and Coptic texts to get a richer and fuller picture of the early church and the Gospel.

Why does this matter?

Invisibility.

We can see it in the words of this young girl’s yearning to be heard.

They shut me up in Prose—

As when a little Girl

They put me in the Closet—

Because they like me “Still”—

The poet--Emily Dickinson.

We see it legally, ET UX on a property deed. We see it economically. Women get paid .71 on the dollar for the same job with the same experience as their male counterparts. We see it socially. Violence against women, mansplaining, the perpetual secretary.

How do we break the cycle? As is said in the Chinese Proverb, women hold up Half the Sky. This is true but historically the dominant group chooses not to look and listen to the landscape that is being held up by the efforts of half of humanity. If we stop look and listen, think what we could accomplish. And it’s not only being safer!!!

In cultures and countries where women have ascended to leadership, we have seen a change in the paradigm. Jacinda Arden, former Prime Minister in New Zealand, confronted a mass shooting driven by religious hatred. Her response: Compassion and love which helped to envelop a nation to heal and not to divide. Ultimately, New Zealanders coalesced around sensible, enforceable gun laws that had the support of the people.

Jane Goodall was a woman who was most comfortable in the rain forest with her beloved mountain gorillas. But from that fragile ecosystem platform, this soft-spoken biologist showed us a new way to lead. Her example of fiercely caring for the one’s most in need was the most Christian of Acts. Her communicating these good works by simply being, quietly telling her story, and sharing her expertise brought the world closer to the inner workings of our ecosystem and our intricate climate. She taught us through her love of her work and the contact she had with life to care. This is the opposite of the callous distancing that we are conditioned to do when digesting the world.

A different way of looking at the world by merely lifting the curtain to reveal Half the Sky. What a difference this could make practically, morally, ethically, and, spiritually

Rev. Mary Nelson 7/12/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 7/12/26

July 12 - “Teaching in Parables”

Teaching in Parables

Matthew 13:1-8, 18-23

July 12, 2026

Rev. Mary W. Nelson – First Congregational Church UCC of Williamstown MA

Jesus often used storytelling as a teaching method. Some of his stories are just one or two sentences long; some, like today’s, are more drawn-out. When we dissect his stories, we can see that most of them have four specific characteristics in common, and we call that group of stories “parables.”

The word parable basically means metaphor. All parables are images of comparison, metaphors in story-form, and that element of comparison is the primary characteristic of a parable. Jesus would start off by saying, “the kingdom of God is like an old woman… or a mustard seed… or a shepherd… or a treasure…” And then he’d make some statement about what that person or object does that illustrates how God’s kingdom works. He doesn’t always make the comparison quite that obvious – today’s parable doesn’t start “the kingdom is like…” – but the idea is always there, implied somewhere in the telling. When the story has a central Actor (a master, a shepherd, a farmer, an old woman), that central Actor is a metaphor for God, and Jesus is telling us “this is how God operates.” If there’s not a comparison, a metaphor, somewhere in there, it isn’t a parable.

The second characteristic of a parable is that the image is drawn from nature or everyday life. Now, we have to remember that “everyday life” in the first century was not the same as our everyday life. So to really understand a parable we need to think about what it would have been like to live back then. The images are primarily agrarian, non-mechanized, and local. In a world where people made their own bread on a daily basis, labored in vineyards, tended sheep and goats, and apparently ate a lot of mustard, stories using these images would have been highly relevant to the people Jesus was trying to reach. A modern-day equivalent parable would claim that the kingdom of God is like a spam email filter that breaks down and floods your inbox; or tell of a man who trades in his diesel-powered truck for a hybrid car and gives little old ladies a ride to the grocery store. You know, things that happen every day.

The third characteristic of a parable is one that is often not very obvious to us because the images are not so familiar to us anymore… but a parable is supposed to capture your attention through something in the story that is strange and unexpected, a little off-kilter, not-quite-right. There’s a twist of some kind, which our modern ears don’t always catch right away, but we can get there with a little imagination and empathy. If you consider our modern-day equivalent story: You may not think you want your spam filter to fail, but how else are you going to find out that your email provider has been blocking your long-lost brother’s messages to you? If you think about today’s parable from Matthew, why in the world is someone planting seeds in ground that hasn’t been aerated, cultivated, weeded, fertilized, irrigated, and carefully tended so as to maximize the return on the planting? What kind of Sower would spread seeds on the trampled-down path, and among the rocks, and in the weeds? Seeds would have been precious, not something to be treated wastefully.

And the fourth-and-final characteristic of a parable is the most frustrating: the storyteller leaves the hearers with just enough doubt about the parable’s precise application that you really have to think about it. A parable makes you sit down and wonder what the heck it is supposed to mean. There are no easy answers with parables – often they leave you with more questions than you had when you began.

We should have left out the verses that explain the Parable of the Sower this morning. The explanation that Matthew gives us (and Mark and Luke do the same thing) was added later. It’s almost certain that Jesus didn’t actually tell his disciples an explanation of the parable—the early church writers would have included the explanation as a teaching tool for their communities. But this explanation over-simplifies the process of understanding a parable. It’s a really clunky attempt to answer the question, “what is the Parable of the Sower really supposed to mean?” Jesus would not have wrapped up his story with a bow like Matthew says he did. Remember that a parable is supposed to leave you with more questions than answers.

You see, Jesus’ sower spreads seed abundantly, randomly, on rocky soil, on the hard-packed path, on fields covered with brambles and thorns. There’s no way that the scattering of this seed is supposed to have a purpose. God does not have a plan for this seed, and that’s the twist: this sower is reckless! This sower is foolish! This sower is completely indiscriminate in his abundance!

And that’s exactly the point of this parable: the abundance of the Sower.

Despite the explanation given later on, we don’t actually know what the seed is supposed to represent: God’s word? God’s love? God’s kingdom? God’s presence? God’s disciples? We don’t know. It could be any and all of those, or something else entirely. The twist is the activity of the Sower, not the identity of the Sower, and that activity gives us an entry point to discovering the point of the parable. The point is not the seed itself, but the hope that its growth will have a purpose; the point is not where the seed fell, but that it went everywhere; the point is not who planted the seed, but that it was planted in abundance.

Here is another angle we might explore: we know that God is the Sower—what if WE are the seed? Might we, like God, plant the seeds of God’s love – or God’s presence – or God’s kingdom – recklessly and indiscriminately and abundantly? Or might we be the seed, sent out to grow where we are planted, with hope that our planting will produce some kind of fruit?

There can be more than one answer when it comes to learning the parable’s lessons. We may be both the seed and the beneficiaries of the seed. We are ones who send out God’s love into the world, and we are also seeds of that love waiting to take root. And maybe we’re supposed to emulate the Sower: We must be abundant in our living, indiscriminate in our sharing, and reckless in our loving. We must spread the seeds of God’s kingdom everywhere – not just in the soil that has been weeded and turned over and fertilized and watered, but on the hard path so that the birds, too, may be fed; and in the rocky soil so that it, too, may bear witness to God’s love; and among the weeds so that they, too, may grow near to God’s kingdom. We must trust that we have been planted where we are – even if only for a moment – so that we can reach out to those around us who need the spiritual fruit that we alone can grow, with God’s grace.

We might be both the Sower and the seed. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Mary Nelson 7/5/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 7/5/26

July 5 - “Heavy Burdens”

Heavy Burdens

5 July 2026

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Rev. Mary W. Nelson, First Congregational Church UCC, Williamstown, MA

At this point, we’re familiar with Matthew’s community’s situation: they’re a minority community of Jews living probably in Antioch, in Syria, a big multicultural metropolitan area. The Jewish authorities centered in Jerusalem, an increasingly-dominant sect called the Pharisees, are beginning to insist on very particular rules of observance for Jews, and because of this, Matthew’s community is not really sure that they can think of themselves as Jews anymore—but they’re also not totally sure that they’re ready to commit to following this Jesus guy, either. And in the context of the Roman Empire, both Jews and Christians are persecuted and traumatized minorities. It’s a time of great cultural upheaval in general, which the Roman Empire is trying mightily to subdue.

One of the enduring questions of the early Church that communities like Matthew’s were also contending with was the role of another prominent street preacher who was operating at the same time that Jesus was: John the Baptist. Who was he? What was his deal? Now as we read the gospel stories, John is (to us) this background character who functions as a kind of foil for Jesus in all four gospels. Different gospels highlight different aspects of the legends that have been told about John: he’s a weirdo ascetic mystic-type wearing a hair shirt and eating bugs and baptizing people in the Jordan River; he’s enough of a threat to the Empire that Herod Antipas happily serves up his head on a silver platter when asked; he’s Jesus’s cousin; he’s a new Elijah the prophet, but also the answer to a prophecy; he has come to “prepare the way” for Jesus.

All of the gospels downplay this bit, but John was actually a rival to Jesus. In the landscape of first-century Jerusalem, there were a lot of street preachers, and both John and Jesus emerged from the “compelling preachers tournament” with some serious street cred. They’ve definitely progressed to the quarterfinals, at least.

All of the gospels mention John in particular because all of their communities have to respond to someone genuinely asking the question, “But what about this John the Baptist guy? He sounds pretty good, too.” So all of the gospels have to address that question somehow. Didn’t he, like, baptize Jesus? Doesn’t that confer some kind of authority on him that makes him better than Jesus, actually? John was there first, right? So why wouldn’t we just follow the teacher instead of the student?

The response of the gospel writers, for the most part, is to dismiss John somehow—he’s a Far Side cartoon. He’s a kook straight out of Monty Python’s Life of Brian. He eats BUGS, for cryin’ out loud! He and Jesus came to an agreement, a truce. In one of the gospels, John even tells his followers, “that Jesus guy is the real deal, I’m not as good,” and they leave John and go follow Jesus.

Here, in Matthew, as Jesus is teaching a crowd of people (he’d been talking to the disciples only for a while, but now his audience has grown), he brings up John—it’s a way for Matthew to illustrate the impossible position that his community finds themselves in, caught between the overly-strict rules of the Pharisees in Jerusalem and the cosmopolitan anything-is-possible crossroads-of-the-Empire atmosphere in Antioch. No matter what, Jesus says, somebody’s going to be unhappy with how you choose to worship, how you choose to order your community. Look at John, he didn’t eat or drink and hid himself away, and people said he was demon-possessed; but here I am, eating and drinking and connecting with people, and everyone says I’m a glutton and a drunk, keeping company with the wrong folks! There is no satisfying the people who are determined to be dissatisfied. They’re like children who won’t dance when we play pretend wedding, and won’t cry when we play pretend funeral.

But then Jesus prays in front of the crowd, and invites them to a place of clarity where they can make up their own minds: don’t worry so much about the rules that other religious leaders want to impose on you for inclusion in their little clubs. It’s a reminder, through this oblique reference to things that are hidden and things that are revealed, that the Kingdom of God is among you. The rules of the power-hungry leaders will always be burdensome by design, but the Kingdom of God is among you, and the rules of the Kingdom are really pretty simple: treat others the way you want to be treated. Put God’s principles first, and let everything else you do extend from that. My yoke is easy and my burden is light. Come into the Kingdom, and find rest from those heavy burdens that they want you to carry. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Come to me, you who are weary, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

It’s the invitation that we also want America to make, right? The promise that we thought was wrapped up in all our rhetoric of liberty: Freedom from the imposition of inscrutable and arbitrary rules that determine identities and belonging. Rest from the hamster wheel that demands proof of loyalty and obedience to a leader or a system. Gentleness and humility that empower the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of dominance or adulation.

It’s a helluva time to celebrate the 250th anniversary of an ideal, when it feels like we’re rapidly moving away from living up to it. All week, this invitation from Jesus has played on repeat in my mind, in conversation with the poem by Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus, most readily known as the poem that was added, in part, to the Statue of Liberty in 1903:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

And then to contrast both Jesus’s invitation and Lady Liberty’s invitation with the Supreme Court’s 5-4 ruling on birthright citizenship, barely hanging on to the protections and promises of the Constitution itself – when anything less than a unanimous decision to uphold the Constitution provides a roadmap to overturning what it means to be an American. Contrast these invitations with the news that a Christian Nationalist neo-Nazi group marched in Washington DC yesterday, waving Confederate flags and chanting their call to “reclaim America.” What is the imagined America these white supremacists want to reclaim?

America is not, and never has been, a “Christian nation.” We have a foundational law prohibiting the establishment of religion by the government, in fact, and it is one of the greatest protections of that much-vaunted freedom we claim to hold so dear. People of multiple faiths and of no faith, including some from this town, members of this church, fought to bring about the reality of a different kind of governing system here, free from, among other things, the imposition of a state religion. And that system, “of the people, by the people, for the people,” was built on a set of ideals that were debated and contested and strengthened through compromise: Nobody who signed the Declaration of Independence 250 years ago got everything they wanted in that document, they all walked away disappointed somehow. No matter what, somebody’s going to be unhappy with how you choose to order your community, but we live in it and make it what it is together. The system was also built on promises that are compatible with Jesus’s invitation, with Lady Liberty’s invitation. The Kingdom of God is no empire of human kings! And as we celebrate 250 years of those promises still in our sights, it’s hard to know how we might move forward from here as that vision becomes increasingly clouded. That same law prohibiting the establishment of religion does also protect the rights of those neo-Nazis to protest and speak.

But we can speak louder our conviction that they are wrong. We can disagree, as Jesus and John did, and know that the arc of the moral universe will bend toward justice in the long run. We can speak louder that invitation of Lady Liberty, to “the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” and we can work to make good on the promise of that invitation for those who take us up on it. We can speak the invitation of Jesus, to opt out of the nonsense rules that are designed to exclude, and instead to bear the yoke of gentleness and humility that offers rest for the weary. We can work to make good on that promise, as we offer welcome and rest in our ministry, too. We can decry the raising of false idols, the misuse and corruption of the language of our faith, and refuse to capitulate in the face of Empire’s false claims to power.

We can live as children of God, heirs of a Kingdom that is already among us, widening the welcome and securing safety for the vulnerable—and we can find rest for our souls, too, in the knowledge that we are doing all we can to be faithful to Christ who invites us to take his yoke upon us, and learn from him. We will not be alone in this effort, thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Mary Nelson 6/28/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 6/28/26

June 28 - “Untitled Sermon”

Untitled Sermon

Matthew 10:40-42

28 June 2026

Rev. Mary W. Nelson – First Congregational Church UCC, Williamstown, MA

For the last two Sundays, we’ve been hearing a long discourse of Jesus—he’s speaking to his disciples, as told by Matthew. In the first section, we heard Jesus sending out his disciples to teach and heal on his behalf (this is when the disciples become apostles, as the word “apostle” means “one who is sent out”). In the second section, we heard Jesus telling his apostles how hard this work was going to be. Traveling from town to town in the first century was not easy anyway, and it definitely was not easy for street preachers who were low-key teaching about subverting the Roman Empire. And for Matthew’s congregation hearing these stories, the Roman Empire was actively hostile to both Jews and Christians, so there was an extra layer of very real persecution that the original audience of this gospel would have been experiencing first-hand.

And then we come to today’s scripture, which is the culmination of Jesus’s teaching to his disciples before they go out to preach and teach. We’ve got the instructions for going out to the neighboring towns to teach and heal. We’ve got the real-talk about how this work is not going to be easy and there will be conflict and cruelty and possibly even martyrdom. And then we’ve got today’s passage—which, on its own, sounds really nice, doesn’t it? If you just ignore the fact that the preceding 30 verses outline a series of horrible things that will likely happen as a result of the apostles’ activities, these three verses seem really lovely and feel-good and full of hope, don’t they?

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” Awwww, that sounds so sweet, doesn’t it?

This formula that Jesus uses here – whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me – shows up in all four gospels, multiple times. There are different nuances each time, slightly different variations, but when a phrase or an idea appears in Matthew, Mark, Luke, AND John (and this one also shows up in some of the non-canonical writings, too, like the Gospel of Thomas), then you know it was likely quite close to something Jesus actually said, not just something the gospel-writer included for other editorial purposes. This idea that welcoming Jesus’s representative is like welcoming God was a significant recurring theme for Jesus. Hospitality was central to Jesus’s ministry.

Hospitality was central to life in first-century Palestine, of course. They didn’t have paved roads and motorized vehicles, so moving from place to place involved a lot of walking and a lot of dust; without restaurants and hotels at every interstate exit, travelers would stop at houses along their journey and ask for something to eat or somewhere to sleep or some way to wash themselves. Do you know how hard it was to come by a cup of cold water in the deserts of the first-century Mediterranean world? You can’t just pop in to the kitchen and grab a glass and run the tap for a minute, maybe throw in a few cubes of ice. The peasant classes, especially, had neither indoor plumbing nor anything resembling a refrigerator.

Hospitality, too, was extremely risky: who is this random stranger showing up at my house asking for help, and is it safe to let them in? Who will answer the door of this house if I knock, and will they help me? As a traveler, is it safer to try sleeping outside with God-knows-what wild animals about, or is it safer to seek shelter with a stranger? You genuinely don’t know!

So hospitality, welcoming the stranger, as a central feature of Jesus’s ministry, as a spiritual and ethical cornerstone of his teaching and his community—that was a radical, counterintuitive, countercultural way of life. Make yourselves vulnerable, as a spiritual practice and an ethical example to others, and encourage them to do the same. That was not the logical program for survival as a Jew in first-century Judah under Roman occupation!

So much of what Jesus taught was about how to get along with others, how to live in community – in short, how to treat people. Until Jesus came along, the standard cultural practice basically amounted to “an eye for an eye.” But “eye for an eye” doesn’t really work because you’re living a vengeful existence, always trying to get back what somebody took from you. Jesus turned “eye for an eye” on its head, and said “treat people the way you would want them to treat you.” Love your neighbor; love your enemy; if you give love, you will receive love in return, and the world will be a better place – not a place of revenge or retribution, but a place of hospitality. If you approach all people as guests rather than as threats, life gets better for everyone. If you treat everyone as a guest, over time, that posture re-orients enough people that it becomes a common way to behave. The community becomes more peaceful, more secure, more pleasant. And it all grows from the idea that we should care for one another. Every time you welcome someone who represents Jesus, you welcome Jesus himself; and every time you welcome Jesus, you welcome God. Every time you care for someone else, you care for God.

Hospitality is a sacred act. When you welcome others, when you care for others, God is working in you and through you to build the kingdom come on earth. Everyone is welcome in God’s kingdom. “Whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me:” when you serve others, you are serving God – you recognize the face of Christ in them and serve them as you would serve Christ – you may even be helping that person to see their own beloved-ness, and that is a huge gift! At the same time that you recognize the face of Christ in those you serve, through your hospitality you allow them to see God working in you through your service. Hospitality creates space to recognize the sacredness, the beloved-ness of every individual creature. Serving others is serving God, and that is sacred.

Before we fall into the trap of always giving-giving-giving until we have nothing left of ourselves, though, I want you to notice something: Jesus sent out his disciples to teach others, and part of their mission involves relying on the hospitality of strangers. He’s telling his disciples to let others serve them – to accept the hospitality and care of others. Not because they deserve hospitality, as representatives of Jesus, but because it creates an opportunity to serve, to start the chain of events that interrupts “an eye for an eye,” leading to that posture of treating all people as guests. The disciples travel from place to place, in need of shelter and food. The disciples are the “little ones” who come in Christ’s name and need a drink of water, and whoever gives them that water will be blessed. So often, when we think of service, we think of all the things that we should be doing for others, and we beat up on ourselves for not doing enough, and we don’t allow ourselves to accept help from anyone else… But hospitality is a two-way street. You have to care for others, but you also have to allow others to care for you. If you are going to recognize the Christ in others, you also have to let them recognize the Christ in you.

Today’s scripture passage mentions the reward that one receives for showing hospitality. If you recognize that the person you are serving is a prophet, and you welcome them in the name of a prophet, then you yourself become a prophet and will receive a prophet’s reward…and near as anyone can tell, a prophet’s reward is recognition before God.

There are a lot of people out there who interpret that “recognition” as some kind of pie-in-the-sky reward in the afterlife, and that recognition, that reward becomes their motivation for doing mission. And I’m telling you, we’re not so much pie-in-the-sky people in the UCC. I’m not motivated by what happens in the next life because I’m far more concerned with what’s happening in this life first. The idea that serving others is important, that breaking that cycle of “eye for an eye” and engaging instead in a posture of care, kicking off a cycle of hospitality that makes this world a better place… that’s motivation enough! Don’t serve others because you think your service will be rewarded some day. Serve others because there are no other options: hospitality is the normal order of the day, and you don’t know any other way to be. Christianity is about how you treat people, not about racking up points on that eternal scoreboard in the sky. Serving others is serving God.

There’s a little bit of God inside every one of you, because you have been created by God and called by God to do the work of God’s church. There is also a little bit of God inside everyone you meet, because we are all part of God’s beloved creation. Whoever welcomes the stranger – or the neighbor – or the enemy – or the friend – welcomes the God who created them. Whoever welcomes you welcomes the God who sent you. Whoever you welcome, you are welcoming God. That is how hospitality works, the posture and pattern of extravagant welcome to which we are all called.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Mary Nelson 6/21/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 6/21/26

June 21 - “Worthy?”

Worthy?

Matthew 10:24-39

Genesis 21:8-21

21 June 2026

Rev. Mary Nelson – First Congregational Church UCC of Williamstown MA

The original audiences of the biblical texts are often easy for us to overlook. We think of ourselves as so sophisticated compared to them, with our computers in our pockets and our fast transportation and our modern conveniences. We give our ancestors in the faith too little credit. Biblical historian John Dominic Crossan has pointed out on occasion that the problem there “is not that those ancient people told literal stories and we are now smart enough to take them symbolically, but that they told them symbolically and we are now dumb enough to take them literally.” We tend to downplay the experiences of the people for whom the texts were written, imagining them in ways that serve our interpretation rather than listening to them and understanding how they would have heard the words that were written for them.

We’ve danced around their identity a bit – we know that the people of Matthew’s community were probably living in Antioch, in Syria, a big cosmopolitan city. They were a minority community living in a diverse multicultural context. They were Jews who were wrestling with what it meant to be Jewish in the first century, not really sure they identified with the experience of Judaism anymore, but sure what else they could be.

We’re not entirely certain when Matthew’s gospel was written, but it seems to have been produced sometime between about 75 and 85 CE. This community’s telling of the stories and teachings of Jesus was influenced by their lived experience as a minority community—importantly for today’s reading, we need to remember that they would have been not just a struggling people, but a traumatized people. In the decade or so before Matthew was writing, Rome had waged the so-called “Jewish War,” sending armies all over the territories of Syria and Judah, Galilee and Samaria, to subdue Jewish communities who were rebelling against Roman rule. Roman armies sacked Jerusalem in 70 CE, destroying the temple, and displacing even more Jewish people into what we call the “diaspora,” the dispersal: exile. In this same time period, in Rome itself, Emperor Nero began torturing and executing Christians for sport beginning in about 64 CE, and although he died 4 years later, his eventual successor Vespasian built the Colosseum and executed Christians there, among other pursuits. Five or ten or fifteen years after the sack of Jerusalem and the building of the Colosseum, it was a terrible time to be Jews or to be Christians, and Matthew’s community knew that. And that’s when Matthew was writing down the stories of Jesus for this community to learn them.

Against this backdrop of violence against both Christians and Jews, Jesus’s words to his disciples take on a very different tone. These are Matthew’s words to his community as much as they are Jesus’s words to his. In Jesus’s time, there were several different sects of Judaism emerging in Jerusalem—two generations later in Matthew’s time, the sect known as the Pharisees seemed to have gained the upper hand in determining which theological perspectives counted as “in” or “out” of bounds in Jewish understanding. And Christians were only just emerging as something separate from Judaism, and there wouldn’t be an attempt at standardizing anything about Christian theology or practice for another 300 years or so. But martyrdom was a real, present, active threat for both Christians and Jews. Violence sanctioned and organized by the Empire against both groups was pervasive everywhere in the territory of the Roman Empire. So imagine what it meant to Matthew’s community to hear Jesus saying to his followers, “Have no fear of those who persecute you. What you have heard whispered in secret, you must proclaim from the rooftops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. …those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

For roughly 1700 years in Europe and other places dominated by the Roman Empire’s historic influence, and for 400+ years in the New World, Christians have experienced the privilege of living openly, freely, as a dominant cultural influence. We’ve fought among ourselves about the right way to be Christian, but in western cultural landscape we have not been persecuted and martyred in widespread systematic ways. Jews have not always had this privilege, it should be said, and often the violence against Jews that has taken place in the last two millennia has been at the hands of Christians (particularly white Christians) seeking to assert dominance at the expense of Jews and other religious and ethnic minority groups. The genocides that have been perpetuated by our Christian ancestors were sinful and shameful, no different from or better than any other genocides or persecutions committed throughout human history.

But these words of Jesus have also been an inspiration to Christians who have stood up against genocide and violence. Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King Jr., and other modern martyrs held fast to the inspiration found in Jesus’s words here. “Do not fear those who might kill the body but not the soul.” Fear those who can kill the soul as well as the body: what might that look like?

We live now in a time when Christianity and Christian language have been twisted in public and corrupted into something unrecognizable to many of us. The misquoting of movies passed off as scripture, the use of Christian language to assert dominance over other Christians, other people, to determine who is in and who is out, who has rights and privileges and who doesn’t. Maybe the experience of Matthew’s community sometimes feels a little more …familiar to us than it would have even just a decade or two ago. Do we need to hear Jesus telling us not to fear those who can only kill the body? Are these words we might need hear differently than we might have five years ago, or ten, or fifteen? My God, I hope not!

We have before us also this question of worthiness. In addition to Jesus’s words of comfort and assurance in the face of persecution, we also have words of assurance that we are worthy of God’s love. That we are worthy of peace and security. We are worthy of the covenant, the promises of God. We’re reminded in the Genesis scripture today that those promises don’t just extend to one line of Abraham’s family, but to all his descendants. There is a place for Ishmael, there is a place for Hagar, there is a place of safety and worthiness for all people by virtue of being children of God, being created by God.

Worthiness is not contingent on what we do or do not do, but simply by virtue of being created by God and loved as God’s children. Jesus reminds us that sparrows are two for a penny, and yet they don’t even fall out of the sky without God knowing it and caring about it. And if that’s the case, then how much more must God know every time we fall, and care about us?

It’s a big question, the question of worthiness. Because we have used it against each other throughout human history. We’ve used it as an excuse to hurt, to kill, to persecute, to punish. But the promises of God, the covenant of God, extends to all people. And we are made worthy by virtue of God’s love for us.

We may be called to hard places. We may be called to speak truth when it is difficult to do so. But we are worthy to do that by virtue of that calling. Let us pray that we never need to lose our bodies for the sake of the gospel. Let us instead not let anyone need to lose their bodies for the sake of the gospel! Let’s build a different world, where violence and destruction are no longer a threat; where the worthiness of all, the belovedness of all God’s children, is what guides our treatment of one another. Where God’s love for all is reflected in our love for all. In Jesus’ name, may it be so. Amen.

Rev. Mary Nelson 6/14/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 6/14/26

June 14 - “Sheep Without a Shepherd”

Sheep Without a Shepherd

Matthew 9:35-10:8

14 June 2026

Rev. Mary Nelson - First Congregational Church UCC, Williamstown MA

There are several times in Matthew’s gospel that we’re told Jesus “has compassion” for the people he is trying to serve. His compassion leads him to feed the five thousand and the four thousand (it’s the same story twice, with different numbers), his compassion leads him to heal the sick, and he teaches a parable about a servant whose debt is forgiven because his employer feels compassion for him.

All these other instances of Jesus’s compassion seem to reinforce his divinity, his otherworldliness, his miracle-working and his wisdom-teaching. He has compassion on the crowd and he makes sure that all of them are fed, with plenty of food left over. That’s the kind of thing Jesus’s compassion compels him to do, right? He’s serving, he’s not showing off, but it definitely makes one aware of his divine ability.

Today, Jesus’s compassion is different. He has been going from town to town, teaching in the synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, curing every disease and sickness, and he sees these huge crowds and feels sorry for them… because there are not enough people doing the work. He sees the numbers of people coming to him every day needing help, and he suddenly seems very limited, very human. He’s only one guy. He’s working as hard as he can, as fast as he can, but there’s only so much of him to go around. These people are like sheep without a shepherd, he thinks. He says to his disciples, “there are not enough workers for this harvest. We need the Lord to send more workers.”

And then he teaches his disciples how to do what he does, and he sends them out to work the harvest with him. He gives them very specific parameters for how to approach their ministry.

In many ways, this moment is actually the beginning of the early Church. We talk about Pentecost as the “birthday of the church,” the day the Holy Spirit sweeps through Jerusalem and Jesus’s followers are able to speak in many languages, and 3000 people want to be baptized. And yes, that’s the key moment when the early Church begins to gain a critical mass. But this moment in Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus says “I am just one man, and this movement is going to need many more workers than just me”—this is the moment that the early Church starts to become a Thing. Jesus looks at his closest followers and says, “Now you do it, too.”

This is when the Twelve go from being just-plain disciples – the word “disciple” means “student” – to being Apostles: an “apostle” is “one who is sent out.” Traditionally we name Jesus’s Apostles as people who saw the Risen Christ after the resurrection, but we are well before Jesus’s death and resurrection at this point in Matthew’s telling of the story, and Matthew himself names these twelve the Apostles, including Judas. Jesus is sending them out now, while he’s human. They are like ambassadors of the Kingdom of God, and Jesus teaches them how he expects them to represent their community. Jesus adopts the protocol much like medical students follow in their residency: see one, do one, teach one. The apostles are still students, and they never stop learning, but Jesus sends them out to do their first “procedure.” He’s saying to them, “okay, you’ve heard about the Kingdom of God, you’ve seen me cleanse the leper and raise the dead… now you do it.” And he gives them instructions for how to proclaim the good news of the kingdom, what to do and what not to do.

Now of course, Jesus’ instructions for the apostles’ mission are also Matthew’s instructions for the early church. So let’s listen to his words again:

“Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, proclaim the good news: ‘the kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.”

“Go nowhere among the Gentiles…rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” This is the same Jesus who will later take the dangerous road through Samaria to spread his good news there, who will tell his followers to “make disciples of all nations,” who will send his followers “to the ends of the earth.” But here he’s telling them to stay away from the Gentiles and the Samaritans, and minister only to Israel’s lost sheep instead. Matthew’s community would have counted themselves among those “lost sheep,” living even farther away from Jerusalem than Samaria and Gailiee, among the very Gentiles that Jesus is telling his followers to avoid. Remember that Matthew’s community was likely a minority community of Jews living in Syria, not belonging to the dominant culture around them, but also feeling like they don’t quite identify with the experience of Jews living in Judah at the time, either. Matthew is telling his congregation, “You feel disconnected from the culture in which you now live, and you feel disconnected from the culture that you have come from, but you belong in the Kingdom of God, in the movement that Jesus and his followers started.

All the gospels describe Jesus sending out disciples, apostles, to teach and heal on his behalf. Jesus has a plan, he has a program, and it involves starting at home: There are people right here who are like sheep without a shepherd, let’s start here where we see the need and can do something about it. Let’s get our own house in order before we go out to help others. One step at a time. Begin at home, and work outward. The mission to the Samaritans, to the Gentiles, to the ends of the earth will happen, but it has to start here. At this point in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus focuses on bringing Israel back around to reconciliation with God… and we’ll get to the other folks later. For now, “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Each gospel describes the instructions to the teaching program differently, which is an interesting topic for a Bible study discussion, but they do seem to agree that this teaching is not transactional: “You received without payment; give without payment.”

Today’s scripture draws a strong connection between faith and action. Jesus travels from village to village, teaching in the synagogues and proclaiming the good news of God’s kingdom—it is here! The kingdom is among you! The kingdom is not to be found in a set of rules or a set of leaders, but in the words and actions of the individuals and communities who recognize God as their sovereign ruler. But Jesus sees how many people are in need, how many people are hurting, how many people are victims of a system that perpetuates their powerlessness and vulnerability.

And although he can heal them, cleanse them, cure them, raise them, one by one… he would never be able to reach them all on his own. He has compassion on these broken, hurting people that he sees every day, and they need help now, not “whenever he can get around to it.” So Jesus sends out his disciples to do the same work he is doing: healing, cleansing, curing, raising. He gives them the authority to do this work in his name, in the name of God’s kingdom. Through their faith in God – and Jesus’ faith in them – they are able to bring the good news of God’s kingdom to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And that good news is that no one has to be a victim: we are empowered to live a meaningful life, because God’s kingdom has come near to us!

Faith is entwined with action: identifying needs in our own community, and then meeting those needs. This is what Jesus sent his Apostles to do. Notice that Jesus didn’t say, “go out and find all the lepers and cleanse them one-by-one, and then tell each one that you did it because Jesus told you to, and therefore they should love Jesus.” NO! Jesus said, “Go figure out what people need, and give it to them.” Jesus had compassion, because the people were “harassed and helpless,” and he worked to figure out what their needs were, and meet those needs. And not everyone has the same needs. Jesus didn’t send his apostles to attack a specific problem; he sent his apostles to have compassion on the people, to be loving shepherds to the lost sheep. Go out and find someone who needs help, and help them. Go out and see what needs to be fixed, and fix it. And don’t do it for any kind of payment or reward; do it because you have been shown the same kind of love at some point in your life and weren’t asked for payment. Go out and help, not because I told you to, not because you will be rewarded for it, but because there is need.

Often when we read the stories of Jesus’s actions–teaching people, healing people–we imagine that we’re the ones being taught, being healed. And usually, that is appropriate. But this story is also supposed to be a turning point for us, just like it was for the disciples: we, too, are to become Apostles, sent out to do the work on Jesus’s behalf. We’re the people who are in the Church. We’re not the ones who are in need of an introduction to the Jesus Movement, we’re the ones who are supposed to do the introducing. We have received Jesus’s compassion already, and now we are called to show that compassion to others.

As Saint Francis of Assisi used to say, “Preach the Gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Every action that we as Christians make says something about God’s kingdom. Every time we are there for someone who has no one, every time we are kind to someone who needs kindness, every time we give to someone who has need, we are proclaiming the Gospel, demonstrating that the Kingdom of God has come near. We are sharing the Good News of God’s love for this world in every interaction we have. We are participating in God’s mission every time we leave our house and venture out into the world, even if we’re just going down to the drugstore for some toothpaste. Everything we do presents God’s kingdom to the world. We have seen it, so now we must do it, and teach it.

Within the church community, it’s “all hands on deck.” We all have to participate, we all have to do the work. The Church, particularly a Congregational church, is not a place where some people can do all the work and some people can just receive and enjoy the atmosphere created by that work. Decisions are made by the people who show up. The community is made by the people who show up. We’re all called to do the work that Jesus sends us to do.

Summer in New England is a wonderful, magical, fleeting time. We want to take a break and enjoy these long days, the warmth of the sun and the cool of the water, the smell of the flowers and the grass under our feet. But there is a lot of work that our church needs to do, some big conversations we need to have. There will be more on that in the coming weeks, so please stay tuned… but for now, please don’t check out for the summer. It’s all hands on deck, and we have work to do! Stay in the work. Show up for one another, and for the community. The kingdom of God that is among you: there is work, there is need, there is compassion to be given. Let us prepare ourselves for that work, and go forth as Christ calls us to do, in his name. Amen.

Rev. Mary Nelson 5/26/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 5/26/26

May 24 - “The Holy Spirit in Human Hands”

Meditation May 24, 2026

Kyle Tong

Good Morning!

This is Memorial Day Weekend. First created in 1869 as Decoration Day

to honor those who died in the Civil War, it later became a National

Holiday to memorialize all who sacrificed their lives in War. Let’s Start

off this morning with a throwback to the 1950s and the television

gameshow Name that Tune. I am going to play a brief selection of two

songs based around the Civil War and I want you to NAME THAT TUNE!

The first one I suspect is easy as most of us are either as they say in the

South “YANKEES” or transplants. (Battle Hymn of the Republic)

The second one may be a li[le more difficult...If you don’t know it is

called (God Save the South)

Let’s examine the lyrics for a moment.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

Chorus:

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

His day is marching on.

God save the South, God save the South,

Her altars and firesides, God save the South!

Now that the war is nigh, now that we arm to die,

Changing our battle cry, "Freedom or death!"

God be our shield, at home or afield,

Stretch Thine arm over us, strengthen and save.

What tho' they're three to one, forward each sire and son,

Strike till the war is won, strike to the grave!

God made the right stronger than might,

Millions would trample us down in their pride.

Lay Thou their legions low, roll back the ruthless foe,

Let the proud spoiler know God's on our side.

Two opposing sides of a war. Both invoking God to justify violence

against the other. The end result, over 600,000 deaths, an end to

slavery, and an attitudinal schism that continues to this day. This has

continued in the 20th and 21st Centuries with genocidal pograms

culminating in the Holocaust of World War II and jihadic actions of 9-11

and its aftermath. In our country today we are once again hearing the

loosing of, “the lightning of his terrible swift sword” with the rhetoric of

Christian Nationalism rising all the way to the highest chambers of our

government.

This is a long way away from the optimistic utopia espoused by the

Pentecost.

How did we get here?

As a historian by training, I look to patterns of the past to examine our

present. Pentecost speaks to the Holy Spirit coming to the apostles and

Mary in the “Upper Room”. The spirit speaks in many tongues—

universal language—it is a gift for each individual and their maker—a

personal relationship. In the early church the Good News was spread by

individuals at great risk throughout the Mediterranean basin to tight-

knit communities who were often martyred by Empire. The people

were making a personal choice of accepting the spirit at great mortal

risk.

This changed with Constantine. The Roman Emperor Constantine

“converted”, some say co-opted, Christianity during his reign and

transformed the Church by giving it legitimacy within the Empire and a

structure—hierarchical in nature that mirrored the Roman political

structure. The Roman Catholic Church maintains much of this structure

to this day.

The Church had changed. From a loose confederation based around the

shared experience of belief in God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit to

an institution, the papacy, based on human leadership and decision-

making—divinely inspired.

The Holy Spirit was now in human hands.

Over the next centuries Christianity was used as a rationale for conflict

that then many times erupted into violence and war. The first notable

European-wide altercation involved Jerusalem and Islam. What

followed was an on-again, off-again struggle for control of the Holy Land

claimed by both faiths which lasted for several centuries. The Crusades

and the Crusaders, who came from throughout Christian Europe, were

called to action by the papacy. The end result, was great loss of life and

an on-going antipathy between Islam and Christianity (Onward Christian

Soldiers)

At the time of the Protestant Reformation Christianity’s conflict turned

internecine. The flux over control of the Church and who had the power

led to bloody conflict between states allied with the Catholic Church,

Lutheranism, Calvinism, and the peasant anabaptists in Switzerland.

When the dust settled by the end of the 1600s between 6-16 million

people were dead. In some areas up to a third of the population was

lost. (A Mighty Fortress is our God)

Then Christianity was matched up with Imperialism. By the Treaty of

Tordesillas of 1494 brokered by Pope Alexander VI the non-European

world was divided between Portugal and Spain in the middle of the

Atlantic. The plan was to make the heathen world Christian by

employing the “Cross and the Sword”. Spain conquered much of the

Americas through aggression while Portugal controlled Brazil and parts

of Africa and made inroads in coastal Asia. The population of the

Americas was decimated, and in several cases—Caribbean peoples—it

was genocidal.

France and Great Britain also became imperialists—and also colonists—

by displacing the indigenous peoples in North America, South Africa,

and Australia. The population in North America in particular was

destroyed by war, disease, and displacement. The justification for this

treatment of their fellow neighbors was that they were heathens.

The Civil War was fought over the issue of the humanity of black people

and the justification of slavery due to the belief amongst many in the

south that black people were heathens, thus not privileged to have the

rights of humankind.

Human structures have lethal outcomes. The message of Christ was lost

in the foibles of human systems and the human condition.

Set in this light, this is a brutal tale that causes one to despair about

their Christian faith. I know I have gone down that rabbit hole at times.

But on this Pentecost Sunday the shades are pulled back and the

window is opened with the fresh smells of spring. Its simplicity is the

key to the beginnings of a way forward.

Mary and the apostles were imbued with the Holy Spirit and were able

to communicate the good news universally—through simplicity, the

Holy Spirit.

Where is the Holy Spirit?

It was in the hands of Mother Theresa gently holding the head of a

dying child telling them that they were loved.

It was in the eyes of a Japanese soldier who handed a banana to my

grandmother to give to her children who had not eaten in a long >me as

they were being transported to Bilibid Prison.

It is in the eyes of the volunteers at the Williamstown Food Pantry as

they work with community members to secure them a more stable food

supply and help with energy needs.

It is in the hearts of the congregation when they sing This is my Song

and tears of the spirit spring into their eyes!

It is in a simple embrace or touch. To share your Christian love and

empathy with another!

When we open our eyes, the Holy Spirit is all about us.

How do we share this gift? How do we contribute to the common good?

I frequently think about the last chapter of a short novel by the 18th

Century philosophe Voltaire. After many trials and tribulations, he

comes to a final conclusion, “Cultiver votre Jardin”—cultivate your

garden.

It is within your control to make the world you see and the relationship

you have as positive—as imbued with the Holy Spirit—as possible.

Those moments, both planned and random, are like concentric rings in

a lake. They meet up with others, and others—and your gift is shared

you know not where. It is the Holy Spirit not human hands.

I leave you with a short poem

we live a life of

circles

not of lines

lines are used to

pierce

circles to

restore

Rev. Mary Nelson 5/10/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 5/10/26

May 10 - “In a Little While”

In a Little While

John 14:15-21

Acts 17:22-31

May 10, 2026 – First Congregational Church UCC, Williamstown MA

Rev. Mary W. Nelson

In John’s gospel, Jesus talks a lot – we looked at that last week. In the midst of all that talking, sometimes there is a brief respite for doing. We are in a section of John’s gospel known as the “Farewell Discourses,” where Jesus is saying goodbye to his disciples, preparing them for that imminent time when they will need to carry on the ministry of their movement without Jesus to guide them. He’s trying to pack in as much as he can, and they become confused and overwhelmed, and they don’t really understand why he’s saying what he’s saying. This is the time when he is talking about what they will be doing.

It’s John’s Jesus, so there are a lot of words. But John’s Jesus tells his disciples to do just one thing – three times – in three different ways: to love. “If you love me,” he says to them in our passage today, “you will keep my commandment.” And in our reading of this passage, uprooted from everything else in the gospel, this sounds like a conditional statement, some kind of coercion, maybe a clumsy attempt at a bargain. We can imagine Jesus as a petulant teenager: If you love me, you’ll let me stay out late with the car. We can imagine Jesus as an anxious parent: If you love me, you’ll settle down and give me grandchildren! But that’s not the kind of if that Jesus is saying here.

There are only two other times in John’s gospel that Jesus talks about “his commandment,” and they are like parentheses around our passage today. In John 13, Jesus says to his disciples: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” And then in John 15, Jesus says, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus’s commandment is a commandment to love – and if you love me, he says, you will keep my commandment. To love Jesus, to love one another, is to fulfill the commandment that he gives his disciples. He’s speaking in the future tense, explaining how to be his followers after he’s gone: I will do this, I will do that, and if you love me, you will be keeping my commandment.

Jesus then tells the disciples that they will not be alone in their endeavors. “I will ask my Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of Truth.” The Advocate that Jesus mentions, whom we now understand as the Holy Spirit, is described using the word “paraclete,” which means “one who comes alongside.” A companion, a partner. In different eras, the word has been translated differently – so what we read now as the Advocate has also been translated as the Comforter, the Helper, or the Counselor. And that person will always be with the disciples forever, Jesus says.

As the Farewell Discourses unfold, the language sometimes feels more and more jumbled up – but the role of love, companionship, community, becomes more and more central to who Jesus is telling his disciples to be. All that abiding in each other, all that believing in this and therefore in that, all that knowing God because we know Jesus and knowing Jesus because we know what his followers do… all of that is about belonging to one another, belonging to the Christian community. If we love one another, we love Jesus. If we love one another, we’re keeping his commandment. If we are companions for one another in life, then we will know the companionship of the Holy Spirit alongside us. He says it again, “Those who keep my commandments are those who love me.” What’s the commandment? The only one John’s Jesus gives us? Love one another. Love one another as I have loved you.

These days it feels like it’s getting harder and harder to follow Jesus’s commandment to love one another. We may be able to do it in small doses, in contained settings and particular groups. In our families, hopefully. In our church, perhaps. In our workplaces or other places where we volunteer or spend a great deal of committed time and energy… maybe? We are in a cultural moment where every action (and every inaction) feels imbued with a declaration of identity, of side-choosing. I shop at this store, not at that one. I drive this kind of car, not that. I visit these places, not those. I watch this TV channel, not that. I read these books, not those. Each choice, hour by hour, moment by moment, a declaration of who you are, who you love—and who you hate.

It all feels like a trap. So un-Christlike. So un-Christian. Time was, not long ago, when we could love our neighbors AND love our enemies, as Jesus taught us to do. When we could believe that we were being loving toward others even if we didn’t like them.

And part of this cultural moment we are in does involve learning differently—that what we thought was loving our neighbors may still have caused harm. We may be grateful for that learning along the way. I give thanks for my friends who taught me that “hate the sin, love the sinner” is a damaging approach to inclusion. I give thanks for my friends who taught me that to claim “I don’t see color” is to say, “I don’t acknowledge that your experience has been different than mine, and those differences have hurt you.”

But how do we love one another in ways that offer both healing and accountability?

That is why we need the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit, as our companion on this journey: so that we have a guide, a partner, to help us to find our way to Christlike love. We don’t have to make it up as we go! We don’t have to stumble in the dark in search of a way forward. Whatever name we give it today, the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit is with us: “our Keeper, helping us to maintain our balance, to stay on sure footing,” as we heard in the Call to Worship based on Psalm 66 this morning.

Love is hard. It’s complicated! It’s not the pink-tinted, rose-scented sentimentality that the greeting card industry would sell us. It’s not warm fuzzy feelings all the time, and a nice warm supper waiting for you when you get home. It’s work. It’s challenge. Love is saying, “I don’t agree with you, but I’m going to stay here and we’re going to work it out.” Love is saying, “This hurt me, but I’m not giving up… on this friendship, this relationship, this covenant we share.” I’m not giving up on the idea and the ideals that we share–but maybe I have more to learn. I will listen more carefully; I will speak more carefully. I will learn from you, and I hope you can learn from me. Love is saying, “I’m not going anywhere, but I will give you distance if you need it.” And love is saying, “Welcome back, I’m glad you’re home.”

“If you love me, keep my commandment” is not about conditional love. It’s about the most unconditional love the world has ever known. This is all it takes, this is all we are asked to do: to love, to be loved, to welcome and receive the healing, the imperfection, the beauty of being known, and of having companions on the journey. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Mary Nelson 5/3/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 5/3/26

May 3 - “The Father Who Dwells in Me”

The Father Who Dwells in Me

John 14:1-14

1 Peter 2:2-10

3 May 2026 – First Congregational Church UCC, Williamstown MA

Rev. Mary W. Nelson

Jesus is a talker in John’s gospel. He talks a LOT. John’s Jesus teaches in big long dialogues, some of which last entire chapters or longer. He does not bother to present these lessons in a format that is easily memorable or applicable or consumable. The Gospel According to John is divided into five sections, and each of these sections contains two parts: the Talking, and the Doing. Really, the Doing parts are mostly just there to break up the Talking parts a bit. There’s a lot more Talking than Doing in John. Today’s passage is from the fourth section of John’s Gospel – and it’s one little-bitty sliver of a really big Talking part.

Today’s passage is part of what scholars call the “Farewell Discourses,” a series of lessons that Jesus imparts to his disciples in the few days leading up to his crucifixion. We have, today, the first half of a lesson about God’s presence among the community of believers (we’ll look at the other half next week) – and that lesson is one small piece of this multi-chapter “Farewell Discourses” section just before Jesus’ crucifixion, explaining how the community of believers will function after Jesus’ death. John is writing 60 or so years after Jesus’s death, and he uses these lessons from Jesus to give guidance and comfort to John’s own community, strengthening them in what they saw as a coming time of uncertainty.

We have now reached the part of the Easter Season when we have heard all the resurrection stories we’re going to hear, and now we are reminded that Christ’s resurrection is STILL true today, and we are part of the story of what the resurrection MEANS. Even now.

Our text today takes place on the night before the Last Supper, as John tells the story. Jesus has just washed his disciples’ feet, and is now trying to explain what is about to happen to him – the betrayal, the crucifixion, the Resurrection, the ascension… and, because it’s pretty much always the disciples’ job “not to get it,” the disciples don’t get it. The disciples serve as foils for Jesus, literary tools that set up this pattern of dialogue: Jesus says something, the disciples misunderstand him, and then Jesus must clarify.

Our passage begins with Jesus telling the disciples not to be troubled, because he is going ahead of them to prepare their places in his Father’s house, and they know the way and will follow later. But Thomas pipes up and says, “Lord, we do not know where you are going, how can we know the way?” And Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” It’s one of those famous “I AM” statements that John is so fond of using – using language to connect Jesus to Yahweh, the Great “I AM.” The whole response is longer, though: “I am the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on, you do know him, and have seen him.”

But Philip doesn’t get it, of course, because the disciples haven’t literally seen God – not like Moses did, or one of the prophets, or Jesus. So how can Jesus say that they have seen the Father? “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”

“Whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” Jesus replies. “I am in the Father, and the Father is in me.” He’s telling them that God is present in him, and really, this is the simplest thing he could say. It’s the bare-bones truth, in this case at least, that to know the Son is to know the Father. Not all fathers and sons have that kind of relationship, but these two do. But… not all fathers and sons have that kind of relationship, which makes it hard for some people to look at Jesus and see God. So Jesus continues: “If you don’t believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, then believe in me because of the works I do. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.”

This is how we are part of the resurrection story even now. We are part of passing on not just the words, but the ACTIONS of Jesus. If we do what Jesus does, then others will see what we do, and know that we do what Jesus did–and then they will also know Jesus. It’s like the transitive property of equations, but for God.

At the very heart of things, Jesus has shown the disciples how to live. He has eaten and healed and prayed and served. He has followed God’ will – not the letter of the law, necessarily, but the will behind it. And he has taught the disciples to do the same. That is the way, that is the truth, that is the life: a life of justice and service and humility. A life of questioning the status quo and seeking to do God’s will. A life of good works: that is the way.

Whether you follow Christ because you believe he is God, or you follow Christ because you believe he has done good things… the point is that you are following Christ Who Is The Way. This conversation was happening in a time when it was thought that there was NO way to reconcile sinful, fallen humanity to holy and perfect divinity. So when we, with our modern ears in our pluralistic society, hear that “Christ is the way” or “no one comes to the Father except through me,” and we think it must be some kind of call for exclusion or exclusivity. But, the first-century listeners for whom this gospel was written would have heard the good news that THERE IS A WAY to bring humankind together with God, when they thought there was no way. Jesus the Christ is that way. This is good news! There IS a way!

The way that Jesus taught the disciples is not about self-righteousness or judgment or domination, and it’s not about passive acceptance of one’s lot in life. The way that Jesus taught is about making choices – choices that work toward the greater good, choices that turn the love of God outward so that others may receive it, choices that witness to God’s justice and work toward bringing God’s kingdom ever nearer on this earth, choices rooted in the recognition that you are part of something bigger than yourself. We make our own choices, and we can choose whether or not we want to live like Christ.

“The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do, and in fact, will do greater works than these.”

John’s is a Gospel where there’s so much more Talking than Doing, but we’re told and we’re shown that the Doing is far more important than the Talking.

When Jesus refers to God as his “Father,” that really grates on some people’s nerves at times. Not everyone has had loving, positive, affirming relationships with male parent figures; some people have had decidedly negative encounters with persons playing that role in their life. It’s important to remember that, when Jesus calls God “Father,” he’s making a metaphorical statement about his relationship with God, not his relationship with his own parents, or the biological configuration of a God’s body (he’s not saying that God is literally a man). When Jesus calls God “Father,” he’s leaning on an idealized vision of who a father is supposed to be, and claims that he relates to God in that way – and we can, too.

He’s also making a political statement, although that gets lost with time and translation. The name that Jesus calls God is abba, and despite the tradition of translating abba to mean “Father,” a word infused with formality and respect and distance, a more accurate meaning is “Daddy” or “Papa.” To say that God is my Father has a very different feel than to call God “Dad.” There’s a closeness, an accessibility, an ease to that relationship. And the Pharisees felt this difference. How dare you be so familiar with Yahweh? Yahweh is so powerful that he must be feared. Yahweh is so holy that you cannot speak or even write his name without being struck dead. And yet you dare to refer to the Almighty Creator as Daddy?!?!?! Disrespect! Blasphemy! Crucify him!

Jesus dared to relate to God in a new way – a way, as it turns out, that was also the truth and the life. It was his relationship with his abba-daddy-God that gave us an important new way to understand and relate to God: a personal way, a loving way, a way that teaches that God is in us, in our thoughts, in our hearts, in our actions. And if we choose to relate to God through Jesus the Christ, then we understand God as this idealized vision of fatherhood who is ultimately loving, and positive, and affirming, and accessible.

There is value in grounding your faith in some kind of personal experience of God’s grace or love or truth, but a so-called “personal relationship with Jesus” is not the be-all-end-all of a life of faith. And Jesus never says that it is. Jesus calls God his “Dad,” so that we may access this new way of relating to God – not based in fear, but in familiarity. But if your relationship with God does not extend outward from yourself, then you are missing something. None of us owns God, none of us holds a monopoly on relating to God, and we need our community to give us that reality check sometimes. There is a danger in thinking that your personal relationship with God bests God’s relationship with anybody else, or any other group: you risk coming to believe that it’s all about you, and what you want, and what you need, …and your faith becomes an idolatry of the Self. But to follow The Way that Jesus sets forth, to be Christ-like, is to live an outwardly-directed life according to God’s will, caring for others, helping those who need help, extending the hand of Christian fellowship to the people around you, joining in community with other Christians, focusing your energy into the community of faith, so that the community of faith can go out and be the Body of Christ in the world, following his teaching and example. Instead of Talking, we can do more Doing.

In the end, this passage is about the importance of community, not about developing a personal relationship with God. And it’s about what we do in this life, not what the next life might hold. God isn’t present with just one faith community, God isn’t owned only by those who call him abba. God is present in all those who seek to follow God’s will, to walk in God’s way. God dwells in us, and we dwell in God. Abba-God is present in us all because we are the Body of Christ. And because, as the Body of Christ, we do his works.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Office First Church 4/26/26 Office First Church 4/26/26

April 26 - “ An Unbroken Chain of Garlands, Cherry Blossoms, and Grape Arbors”

An Unbroken Chain of Garlands, Cherry Blossoms, and Grape Arbors

Meditation April 26, 2026

Kyle Tong

Good Morning! Deb and I recently were on a trip to Florence, ITALY. The

medieval city is gorgeous, constructed with the wealth and patronage

of the Medici Family during the Renaissance over 500 years ago. In

many ways, one could say that the Medicis underwrote the

Renaissance, its beauty, and its revolutionary views on how the people

viewed humanity and the human form.

The incredible humanizaFon of the individual—the inner light—both

the ethereal in Michelangelo’s David and the untold suffering in the

unfinished works in the hall of the slaves, will both haunt and stay with

me.

But the lasting impression is one of doors. Great care and time went

into the doors of the churches and cathedrals and those meant for the

walls of the city—so large and ornate—they became a centerpiece of a

museum.

Even though the human form was to be celebrated in Renaissance,

Florence—it was designed for just some people. The walls were built to

exclude. The Protestant movement was the subsequent result of this

elitist impulse. The scripture was brought to everyone through the

innovation of the printing press and the Good News was accessible to

all. O how history repeats itself as the exclusionary doors close again.

This Fme the people on the outside are “the contemporary other”;

people of color, immigrants, the LBGTQ community, and even women as

a group.

The second lasting impression occurred at passport control as we leY

Italy. I handed my passport to the official-he looked-then smirked in a

condescending way and said, United States”.

This being shortly after the initiation of bombing in Iran I had nothing to

say. I bowed my head, took my document and moved on.

One was an attitude etched in the past—exclusion; the other a new one

brought on by the actions of my country. Both are powerful—and

painful—antithetical to the mores and beliefs held dear throughout a

lifetime.

The questions one asks oneself as we sit bolt upright in the dead of the

night or walk the paths and country roads of this bucolic region seeking

solace and inner peace is two-fold. One secular and one spiritual.

How does one represent their country when their country does not

represent them?

And how does one evangelize for the Church when Christianity in the

popular domain is hypocritical and does not reflect their core beliefs?

As articulated by historian Jill Lepore in her work entitle These Truths,

our country was founded on core utopian beliefs of equality and the

common good. We have never attained them-not even close- but the

aspiration to reach these truths has inspired the generations and those

who have flocked to our shores. We are imperfect and flawed but that

acknowledgement and the will to keep going onward drives us.

Our present circumstance is as a nation to look in a mirror that has no

background. We are self-centered, narcissistic and selfish. We are blind

to the detritus we create and the suffering that it causes. Our

democracy created this through our elections. What have we done?

The Church of my lifetime is one of compassion and caring. One that

seeks to draw people closer to God by their actions and kindness. A

Church that is non-judgmental and allows for each person to find God through their own journey.

The Christian megaphone today is dominated by people who say “No”.

To say no to people in need. No to actions that could save lives. No to

anything that is perceived as different. The no is intended to exclude

and define. It puts a narrow face on WHAT A CHRISTIAN LOOKS LIKE—

literally and spiritually. It has become xenophobic--driven by fear. It

hearkens back in a way to the time of Jonathan Edwards and Sinners in

the Hands of an Angry God.

What I do when these moments come to fill my mind with angst is I

turn within to my friends for council and imagine time with them while

breaking bread. I imagine having dinner with great minds of both the

spiritual world and the secular who can give insight through their

wisdom and experience. I have given this imagining a poetic voice so...

Bear with me as I share a poem (this being National Poetry Month)

describing this inner dinner!

We are not alone. We have those who have travelled before us fighFng

the good fight for the common good. We have fellow travelers seated

with us, among us, throughout this wonderous world, and we have God

the Creator who has been, is, and will be present and loving in the lives

of all. What a wonderful foundation for hope, comfort, and faith in the

world in which we live.

An Unbroken Chain of Garlands, Cherry Blossoms, and Grape Arbors

as we look to the hills

our hearts attempt to lift as well

with a promise of a cleansing

of the earthly clutter of our

fallibility

this is a dark place

spurred on by events and callous

decisions

made by individuals who view self over

stewardship

greed over goodness

selfishness over service

cronyism over the common good

false idols over faith

when I despair I take

an internal journey

to seek council in my mind’s eye

breaking bread with fellow seekers

who have searched to find peace

in their world—both secular

and religious

these folk some insiders, some outsiders

share a common trait

they are not people who deconstruct

rather they are synthesizers

as Gandhi sits he pushes away the chair

and settles on the floor

an angular gentle man in comfort

how do we face these trying times

I ask

He looks at me and gestures—spreading

His hands

A truth is a truth and a wrong is a wrong

One must not accept a wrong—but

Not correct it with a wrong

The power of your conduct and your faith

Will be a beacon—for others to see and

Draw strength

but at some point we must protect

the most vulnerable

Dorothy Day strode to the table

the bohemian suffragette turned catholic

champion for the impoverished

had seen suffering

suffering of the hungry, the disenfranchised

and the violence against women

to see these things one must act

to change them

Dorothy, I agree said a robust cleric

sitting at the tables end

Reinhold Neibuhr, Christian theologian

and activist held that faith and its rigor

turned into secular action

Christian truth morphed into the political

common good

hence fundamental change in society

FDR wheels to the table

cigarette holder clamped firmly in his mouth

pure Christian faith is a power for good

twisted faith is a weapon for evil

I’ve seen it used to divide races and creeds

exclusive not inclusive—be careful of the soothsayer

at the edge of the room a deep voice

boomed

there will be false prophets, said Martin

but for the oppressed that is not a reason

to concede

we need to humanize hatred

hatred is most often conducted in isolation

directed to fear and what one knows not

if you demand closeness you become part of

the family of humankind

and with that intimacy comes the roots

of caring

a man stood up towering over all

with a laconic smile

that engaged, disarmed, and pulled in

Mandela knew of twisted faith

he was imprisoned for being

one of the people of Ham

who dared to be equal in apartheid

twenty-seven years of pounding rocks

he never left the tiller of his ship nor blamed

others for his lot

persistence in search of the truth led to

a new South Africa

attained peaceably through persistence, reconciliation, and---

love

love is the word you want Nelson

the diminutive Mother Theresa gently

touched his hand and said again

love—unconditional love of all living things

life is a sacred journey to be celebrated

and supported by all

the last to the table is a Latina woman

a woman of presence, Dolores Huerta

I ask all of you what to do with

anger and shame

I have fought the good fight for the common good

but I was betrayed and violated

in the most heinous of ways

forgiveness and grace will get me so far

how can I –and others

have peace

many have answers

some raise even more questions

such is the fate of the human quest

--the pursuit for meaning—in sometimes meaningless pursuits

--the search for faith—in a world of cynicism and faithlessness

--the quest for unconditional love—amongst many who demand to have

strings attached

our diners provided in unbroken chain

in this need for understanding

glimmers of hope, courage, meaning, and caution

to add a link of life and love

to the chain

Rev. Mary Nelson 4/19/26 Rev. Mary Nelson 4/19/26

April 19 - “What Should We Do?”

“What Should We Do?”

Acts 2:14a, 36-42

19 April 2026

First Congregational Church UCC, Williamstown MA

Rev. Mary W. Nelson

Easter isn’t just one day, it’s a whole season. Fifty days. And in this season, we tend to hear basically every resurrection story the four gospels have to offer – and it makes it seem like, in those first days and weeks after the Original Easter Event, you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting the risen Christ. And there are several reasons for this:

First, no two gospels share the same resurrection stories. And second, they’re geographically all over the place. Mark just ends with an empty tomb, and somebody attempted to add some resurrection appearance stories to Mark’s gospel later, but we know it’s not original material and the stories are pretty generic, so we don’t really bother with those. Matthew tells us that the apostles are all told that the Risen Jesus is going to Galilee, and they should go meet him there. Luke, who usually shares a lot of material in common with Matthew, tells a completely different set of stories, indicating that the Risen Jesus mostly stayed in and around Jerusalem for 40 days or so, and then ascended to heaven from Jerusalem. John’s gospel shows the Risen Jesus in both Galilee and Jerusalem, but John’s Risen Jesus also has this more mystical/mysterious quality where he can walk through locked doors and things like that. They’re all very careful and insistent to tell us that the Risen Jesus was a real, physical person, not a spirit or a comforting imaginative apparition brought on by their grief. But they all put him in different places, often at the same time. So it seems like he’s everywhere, all at once.

But really, it’s that the gospel writers were using their unique resurrection stories to connect with the specific communities for whom they are writing. Matthew’s community probably lives in Antioch, in modern-day Syria: it makes sense that Matthew’s Risen Jesus would encourage his disciples to get out of Jerusalem and go north and keep going. Matthew is reassuring his people that their participation in the Kingdom of God isn’t somehow less-than by virtue of living elsewhere. Meanwhile, Luke’s community lived in Jerusalem, so of course Luke would keep the Risen Jesus and the apostles there for as long as possible. In the “Walk to Emmaus” story, there’s this little throwaway line at the very end, after the two disciples walked all the way back to Jerusalem because they were so excited to have seen the Risen Jesus: when they get there, the other disciples have also seen the Risen Jesus in Jerusalem at the same time Cleopas and his unnamed friend saw him in Emmaus – he really WAS everywhere, all at once!

Luke also went above and beyond, and wrote a whole second book, a sequel of sorts: the Acts of the Apostles. It picks up exactly where the gospel left off, with the apostles in Jerusalem and the Risen Jesus ascending to heaven. Acts is the story of the development of the Early Church. The establishment of what became, eventually, The Establishment.

When the founder of your movement, when the Head of the Church, isn’t there anymore to tell you how the movement is supposed to work, you’ve got to figure it out on your own. Acts is that story: How the movement becomes formalized, becomes institutional. This is why I love the book of Acts! Acts shows the process of wrestling with and forming church identity and governance and politics!

Acts isn’t the whole of that story – Acts mostly follows James, Peter, and then Paul through the early years of figuring out how this movement that Jesus started can carry on after his death and resurrection. We know, somewhere in the back of our minds, that the other apostles of Jesus eventually spread out across the ancient world: Thomas goes to what is now India; Peter ends up in Rome; Andrew goes to Greece; they travel to what is now Turkey, Armenia, Syria, Iran, Egypt, Ethiopia, Spain—there are claims of their travels as far as England and the western parts of Russia. We western Christians aren’t familiar with all those stories of all those places. We have the book of Acts, this community’s perspective on the early years of the Jesus Movement.

Before the apostles spread out, they’re still centered in Jerusalem, reeling from, dealing with, the enormous upheaval they have experienced in the wake of Jesus’s crucifixion: the resurrection, and then Pentecost, have completely upended their whole conception of how God works, how they relate to the world around them. They stick together, as a community of people who have shared this profoundly destabilizing and reorienting series of experiences. And when we see them here, in Acts 2, they’re starting to figure it out. They’re just settling into a new rhythm. Peter is preaching in the square—he does that a lot in Acts—and what we heard today is the end of, and really the response to, his Pentecost sermon that we’ll hear the beginning of in a few weeks, when it’s Pentecost Sunday. Peter gives an incredibly compelling testimony, and the people ask, “What should we do?” And that day, the story tells us, three thousand people are baptized and want to join the Jesus Movement.

But baptisms aren’t what make the church the church. I mean, baptisms are what make the church the church, but they’re not the only thing. Baptism welcomes an individual into the life of the church. But the life of the church isn’t something an individual can do alone. You cannot be a Christian by yourself.

We’re told that three thousand people were baptized and joined the company of Jesus’s followers. “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and fellowship, the breaking of the bread, and prayers.” This one verse right here is the first purpose statement, mission statement, definition of what it means to be a follower of Jesus after Jesus isn’t physically with them anymore.

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and fellowship, the breaking of the bread, and prayers.” This is what followers of Jesus do. This is what their community life consists of, these four things: teaching, fellowship, ritual communion, and prayer. The prescriptive implication is, followers of Jesus do these four things. Teaching, fellowship, communion, prayer. Those actions, with Jesus as the head of the church, are the hallmarks of Christian community.

“The Apostles’ teaching” is, of course, the good news of Jesus Christ—passing on what Jesus taught, the parables, the miracles, and telling the story of his death and resurrection, demonstrating God’s power over death and Empire. Fellowship is the abstract concept in this list, a state of being in relationship with one another; “koinonia” is the word used here, and it’s sometimes translated as “participation” or “sharing” – it’s committing to mutual care in the context of a community. “The breaking of the bread” is communion, the Lord’s Supper. And the only two times this phrase shows up in all of the Bible is here, and in the story of the Walk to Emmaus. He is made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

This Acts usage is a direct reference to that communion and recognition experience. Prayer is nonspecific prayer – the act of praying, and the prayer itself – and it’s unclear if that’s a reference to using The Lord’s Prayer or not. It might just be worship, prayer, or it might be “The prayer Jesus taught us.” It’s unclear.

But we’ve got these four things we do: teaching, fellowship, communion, prayer. These four things constitute the earliest definition that we have of what it means to be Christian. It’s not a list of beliefs, not saying a particular formula of confession, it’s these four actions, in the context of community. That’s the definition of how to be followers of Christ—it’s a community activity. You cannot be a Christian by yourself.

This past week on NPR’s Science Friday program[i], Sociologist Dr. Tracy Scott, who studies the families of astronauts – who is herself the daughter of an astronaut – gave a brief, fascinating interview about the impact of space travel on astronauts’ families. (I commend it to you, if you didn’t hear it already, and I’ll include a link to it in my sermon on our website.) The thing that struck me in the interview was the note that, yes, it’s documented that astronauts come back to earth and profess a stronger sense of awareness of the connectedness of humankind, our obligation to one another, this sense that “we’re not in this alone, and nobody does anything alone or accomplishes anything alone. We’re in it together.” Astronauts share this sense, but so do their families. She spoke about the wife of an astronaut expressing a sense that “we’re trying to put a man on the moon” – not that her husband was going the moon, or NASA is sending people to the moon, but that she was part of this collective effort, and “we” were all in it together. One of the functions, the after-effects of going to the moon, is this sense of belonging, the heightened awareness of something greater than ourselves. “how we relate to other people and how you come together and accomplish a lot more together than alone.”

Peter’s gospel witness, telling of the good news of Christ’s resurrection to the people in Jerusalem, with 3000 people responding by being baptized, joining the movement – that moment in Acts is a “going to the moon” moment, an awareness that we are part of something bigger than ourselves, we can do more together than we can do alone. Peter’s speech galvanized thousands of people who were not there to witness the resurrection themselves first-hand, but who nevertheless grew in their awareness of connection and belonging. And they dedicated themselves to the mission of the church – they didn’t coopt the mission of the church for their own personal aims! But they dedicated themselves to “the apostles teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and prayers.”

This is, at its heart, what the church is, and is called to do. In this time when individualism is a stronger cultural norm than it has been in in decades, in this time when the language of Christianity has been twisted to serve purposes that are not at all Christian or Christlike, let us dedicate ourselves to this countercultural awareness of our collective belonging to one another and to Christ. Let us, too, devote ourselves to these common purposes, “teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayers.” Let us do in the name of the Risen Christ, who is everywhere, all at once. Amen.

[i] https://www.sciencefriday.com/segments/inside-the-lives-of-astronauts-families/