A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — January 24, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Isaiah 61:1-6;  Luke 4:16-21;  Romans 12:14-21

…[the Lord] has sent me …to proclaim the year of the Lord’s
favor, and the day of vengeance of our Go. — Isaiah 61:2

…[the Lord] has sent me …to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. — Luke 4:18d-19

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for

I will repay, says the Lord.” — Romans 12:19

I’ve never forgotten the first time years ago when I heard the story of the very religious man who came back from one of those near-death experiences.  His family had gathered around him in the intensive care room and watched in shock as the traces on the monitor went flat.  But just as doctors and nurses rushed to his bedside in response, everything started up again and the man sat bolt upright with a look of horror on his face.  He’d had the stereotypical experience of moving through a tunnel of light and then out into paradise where he had come face to face with God.  But as he was telling his story he started shaking his head and saying, “No, no, it’s awful.”  His family tried to comfort him by pointing out that, having actually seen God face-to-face, he now knew the truth of his religious faith.  “Oh, but you don’t understand!” he cried. “I saw God, but… but She’s black!”

Face it.  We’re all caught up in a host of preconceptions about God.  And most of them involve imagining God as being rather like us—only more so.  Better than us, wiser, more powerful, all-knowing.  We imagine God to look rather like Michelangelo painted “him”—white, male, bearded, a long white robe.  Why, look at me—here I am.  But I wouldn’t do as God, not least because we usually imagine God to be comfortably far off.  Oh, God is on our side, to be sure, but far enough off that we are able to go our own way.  “Our Father, who art in heaven…”

 

A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — January 17, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Isaiah 62:1-5;  John 2:1-11

…as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
so shall your God rejoice over you. — Isaiah 62:5b

When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus
said to him, “They have no wine.” — John 2:3

The Wedding at Cana reminded me of a story this week, but I just couldn’t locate a copy of it.  Too many books, I guess.  As close as I remember it’s about a much-loved innkeeper in a small village in France.  After forty years he decided to retire and move away to spend his final years enjoying the sun and beaches in the south of France.  His inn had been the social center of the community, and his hospitality and generosity were legendary.  Most people knew how he had quietly supported many families fallen on hard times and had, over the years, helped numerous stranded travelers.  And his cooking!  Why, he served the finest food in the district!  And he always took some to any family visited by illness or death.

 

A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — January 10, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Isaiah 61:1-6;  Luke 3:21-22; 4:16-21

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because

to bring good news to the oppressed. — Isaiah 61:1

The Holy Spirit descended upon him

in bodily form like a dove. — Luke 3:22

According to one telling of a very old story  —

There once was a poor man who had grown weary of all the corruption and hatred he saw around him.  He was tired to death of the repeated injustices he and his people experienced.  And he dreamed incessantly.  He dreamed of a perfect city where heaven touched the earth—a place free of discord where justice would be honored, peace experienced, and life would be both full and rewarding.  One day he could stand it no longer.  He left his family and friends and set off in search of the heavenly city of his dreams where all things would be new and different.

A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — January 3, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Isaiah 2:1-4;  Luke 2:8-14

…neither shall they learn war anymore. — Isaiah 2:4b

…on earth peace, good will among people. — Luke 2:14b

Two weeks ago the youth Sunday school class presented a portrayal of the first Christmas, making use of certain Beatles songs to highlight some of what they’d been learning in class about Luke’s telling of the birth of Jesus.  As I watched and listened, I thought of how very appropriate “A Hard Day’s Night” was for the shepherds to be singing, beyond just the difficult labor of “shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.”  (How many of you have had to work the overnight shift?)  “It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’ve been working like a dog.”  Figuratively, shepherds were regarded as being little more than dogs.  They were considered ritually unclean and distrusted on account of their frequent contact with foreigners, so distrusted in fact that they weren’t allowed to give testimony in court.  It was a good song choice, as was Mary singing John Lennon’s “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” to the baby Jesus.

 
As the portrayal went on, I admit I was a bit taken aback by “Great Groovy One” as a name for God.  Still, I’m sure I’ve named God in ways that left some of you similarly taken aback.  But then the youth closed their presentation by singing Lennon’s “Happy Christmas,” which begins with the line they used as the title of their portrayal, “So This Is Christmas.”  Once again we heard that quintessential Christmas dream of peace—“And so happy Christmas, for black and for white, for yellow and red ones; let’s stop all the fights.”  And I found myself profoundly moved and tears welled up as I listened to the voices of our IPC children singing the last lines of the song: “War is over, if you want it; war is over now.”