Petitions and Resolutions: Prioritizing Human Resources Over Generative AI

• Genesis 11:1-9

  The Tower of Babel

  11 Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. 2 And as they migrated from the east,[a] they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. 3 And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks and fire them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone and bitumen for mortar. 4 Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.” 5 The Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. 6 And the Lord said, “Look, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. 7 Come, let us go down and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another’s speech.” 8 So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. 9 Therefore it was called Babel,[b] because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth, and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth.

• Nehemiah 2:1-5, 3:1-32

  Nehemiah Sent to Judah

  Ch2 
  In the month of Nisan, in the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes, when wine was served him, I carried the wine and gave it to the king. Now, I had never been sad in his presence before. 2 So the king said to me, “Why is your face sad, since you are not sick? This can only be sadness of the heart.” Then I was very much afraid. 3 I said to the king, “May the king live forever! Why should my face not be sad, when the city, the place of my ancestors’ graves, lies waste and its gates have been destroyed by fire?” 4 Then the king said to me, “What do you request?” So I prayed to the God of heaven. 5 Then I said to the king, “If it pleases the king, and if your servant has found favor with you, I ask that you send me to Judah, to the city of my ancestors’ graves, so that I may rebuild it.”

  Organization of the Work

  Ch3
  Then the high priest Eliashib set to work with his fellow priests and rebuilt the Sheep Gate. They consecrated it and set up its doors; they consecrated it as far as the Tower of the Hundred and as far as the Tower of Hananel. 2 And the men of Jericho built next to him. And next to them[a] Zaccur son of Imri built.

  3 The sons of Hassenaah built the Fish Gate; they laid its beams and set up its doors, its bolts, and its bars. 4 Next to them Meremoth son of Uriah son of Hakkoz made repairs. Next to them Meshullam son of Berechiah son of Meshezabel made repairs. Next to them Zadok son of Baana made repairs. 5 Next to them the Tekoites made repairs, but their nobles would not put their shoulders to the work of their Lord.[b]

  6 Joiada son of Paseah and Meshullam son of Besodeiah repaired the Old Gate; they laid its beams and set up its doors, its bolts, and its bars. 7 Next to them repairs were made by Melatiah the Gibeonite and Jadon the Meronothite—the men of Gibeon and of Mizpah—who were under the jurisdiction of[c] the governor of the province Beyond the River. 8 Next to them Uzziel son of Harhaiah, one of the goldsmiths, made repairs. Next to him Hananiah, one of the perfumers, made repairs, and they restored Jerusalem as far as the Broad Wall. 9 Next to them Rephaiah son of Hur, ruler of half the district of[d] Jerusalem, made repairs. 10 Next to them Jedaiah son of Harumaph made repairs opposite his house, and next to him Hattush son of Hashabneiah made repairs. 11 Malchijah son of Harim and Hasshub son of Pahath-moab repaired another section and the Tower of the Ovens. 12 Next to him Shallum son of Hallohesh, ruler of half the district of[e] Jerusalem, made repairs, he and his daughters.

  13 Hanun and the inhabitants of Zanoah repaired the Valley Gate; they rebuilt it and set up its doors, its bolts, and its bars and repaired a thousand cubits of the wall, as far as the Dung Gate.

  14 Malchijah son of Rechab, ruler of the district of[f] Beth-haccherem, repaired the Dung Gate; he rebuilt it and set up its doors, its bolts, and its bars.

  15 And Shallum son of Col-hozeh, ruler of the district of[g] Mizpah, repaired the Fountain Gate; he rebuilt it and covered it and set up its doors, its bolts, and its bars, and he built the wall of the Pool of Shelah of the King’s Garden, as far as the stairs that go down from the city of David. 16 After him Nehemiah son of Azbuk, ruler of half the district of[h] Beth-zur, repaired from a point opposite the graves of David, as far as the artificial pool and the House of the Warriors. 17 After him the Levites made repairs: Rehum son of Bani; next to him Hashabiah, ruler of half the district of[i] Keilah, made repairs for his district. 18 After him their kin made repairs: Binnui,[j] son of Henadad, ruler of half the district of[k] Keilah; 19 next to him Ezer son of Jeshua, ruler[l] of Mizpah, repaired another section opposite the ascent to the armory at the Angle. 20 After him Baruch son of Zabbai repaired another section from the Angle to the door of the house of the high priest Eliashib. 21 After him Meremoth son of Uriah son of Hakkoz repaired another section from the door of the house of Eliashib to the end of the house of Eliashib. 22 After him the priests, the men of the surrounding area, made repairs. 23 After them Benjamin and Hasshub made repairs opposite their house. After them Azariah son of Maaseiah son of Ananiah made repairs beside his own house. 24 After him Binnui son of Henadad repaired another section, from the house of Azariah to the Angle and to the corner. 25 Palal son of Uzai repaired opposite the Angle and the tower projecting from the upper house of the king at the court of the guard. After him Pedaiah son of Parosh 26 and the temple servants living[m] on Ophel made repairs up to a point opposite the Water Gate on the east and the projecting tower. 27 After him the Tekoites repaired another section opposite the great projecting tower as far as the wall of Ophel.

  28 Above the Horse Gate the priests made repairs, each one opposite his own house. 29 After them Zadok son of Immer made repairs opposite his own house. After him Shemaiah son of Shecaniah, the keeper of the East Gate, made repairs. 30 After him Hananiah son of Shelemiah and Hanun sixth son of Zalaph repaired another section. After him Meshullam son of Berechiah made repairs opposite his living quarters. 31 After him Malchijah, one of the goldsmiths, made repairs as far as the house of the temple servants and of the merchants, opposite the Muster Gate,[n] and to the upper room of the corner. 32 And between the upper room of the corner and the Sheep Gate the goldsmiths and the merchants made repairs.

And now, for our third reading of the day. Here is a selection of lines taken from the petition for today: “Prioritizing Human Resources Over Generative AI.” While I have pared down this reading quite a bit, I am going to strongly encourage each of you to read the text in its entirety, especially since this is an incredibly important topic for us to have in front of us. Hear these words from this petition:

Whereas we are offered by the Holy Spirit the gifts which are needed for ministry (1 Corinthians 12:1–11).

Whereas we are a connexional church capable of sharing resources, gifts, and skills across our connection to make disciples of Jesus Chris together.

Whereas our Social Principles state that “We are concerned about media monopolies and the tendency of media control to rest in the hands of a few large corporations, and we encourage individuals, communities, and governments to be vigilant in the enforcement of anti-trust policies.”

Whereas the current development of generative AI is concentrated primarily in the hands of a few large corporations and has the potential to affect dramatically our understanding and perceptions of reality, expertise, facts, and evidence, especially when its content is presented as real.

Whereas he Book of Resolutions ¶ 1110 charges The United Methodist Church at every level with the care of creation, including making personal lifestyle changes to reduce emissions, offering support to communities disproportionately impacted by climate change, incorporating climate stewardship and the reduction of fossil fuel use into our work, and advocating for national and international policies aimed at reducing climate change and its impacts on human communities.

Whereas the data centers upon which generative AI relies are expected to surpass the aviation industry in carbon emissions within four years, and their extremely high water use is already damaging local wells, exacerbating water shortages, and raising costs.

Whereas inflation is high and people are increasingly struggling to pay their bills.

Whereas AI data centers can use as much electricity as a small city, and their demand for power is driving up electricity costs for all Americans.

Whereas AI summaries and chatbots are notoriously inaccurate and sycophantic (or, more willing to agree with a user than to offer fact correction or pushback on dangerous ideas).

Whereas AI summaries and chatbots are notoriously easy to trick into providing dangerous information, and willing to suggest dangerous courses of action, such as consistently suggesting nuclear strikes in hypothetical war scenarios.

Whereas the limited contexts in which generative AI may be genuinely useful are not currently able to be separated from the companies which are developing and training the large models that inspire these concerns.

Therefore be it resolved that the United Methodists of Upper New York and their associated congregations, committees, and institutions are encouraged to avoid the use of generative AI in their ministry contexts, preferring in all possible cases to use human-created resources, art, and research instead.

Therefore be it resolved that, where there is an accessibility or equity need that cannot be otherwise met—such as with live translation for Annual Conference meetings—the same persons and bodies are encouraged to take care to avoid using generative AI for anything except the minimum necessary to ensure full participation.

Therefore be it resolved that, in the aforementioned cases, it is encouraged that priority be given to providing for human resources that can replace the AI uses in question—such as live human translators and relevant audio technology—when budgetary increases are considered.

Therefore be it resolved that the same persons and bodies be encouraged to advocate in local and national governments for reasonable legal oversight to generative AI tools and for the requirement of consent before one’s data is processed by or used to train a generative AI model.

This petition was written and submitted by Rev. Rachel Stuart, Senior Pastor at Hurlbut United Methodist Church in Chautauqua, NY.

AI. It’s everywhere. Today, it has become the default, the equivalent of performing a Google search in terms of how much thought and effort it requires. As this petition points out, the development and spread of AI, and its integration into so many aspects of daily life, has taken place at an incredible pace—one that has kept a generous lead ahead of government regulation and ethical scrutiny. When something is so easy to use in daily life—from Facebook and Instagram to internet searches to ChatGPT—it can be easy to ignore the question of whether or not we should be using it. After all, who doesn’t want to have the top results on Google summarized for them? Who doesn’t want their emails sorted into piles of advertisements, newsletters, and actual emails from real people we know? Who doesn’t want to type in a prompt and have generative AI produce a flyer for an event, a video for social media, or anything else that would make life just a little bit easier? It can be tempting, too, to use AI tools to take notes for us in meetings or classes, to offer captioning or translation services to increase accessibility for little or no cost, or to narrate stories or videos so that we don’t have to. Especially when we’re in a hurry and need something done quickly, or when we feel like we don’t have the gifts or knowledge or ability or energy to perform a task that we know AI is capable of performing. And when we have all these constraints and anxieties, it becomes even easier to resist asking: should we use AI?

I am going to sound like a bit of a Luddite throughout this sermon, but I believe it’s important for us to look at AI with the greatest degree of suspicion. This petition lays out many of the reasons to be suspicious of AI, starting with the fact that the generative AI market is dominated by a handful of corporations, each with their own interests in mind. Fewer corporations controlling an industry while contributing millions each election cycle to lobbying efforts ought to make us suspicious. Add to the mix companies like Microsoft and Google, who are well-known for infringing on individual and institutional privacy, and the AI frenzy ought to make all sorts of alarm bells go off in our heads. These companies are also openly working with private security companies, immigration enforcement, and law enforcement at all levels to track individuals and make it next to impossible to maintain any semblance of privacy. ICE uses AI surveillance to target undocumented families, and local law enforcement departments across the US have gone all-in on the latest AI surveillance technology: Flock cameras. When it comes to training the generative AI programs that do things like write emails and produce images, these programs are trained using emails that people have already written and images that others have created—almost always used without the consent of their creators. 

It’s also important to recognize the impact of generative AI on the physical planet we inhabit, and on the lives of other people. As this petition points out, a single data center can consume electricity at a rate comparable to a small city—electricity that is, therefore, not being used in hospitals, schools, homes, churches, and small businesses. The water consumption of these data centers is also nothing new, nor are the rising costs of utilities and the damage that data centers cause to local water infrastructure. Are the convenience and curiosity of generative AI worth lining the pockets of the companies responsible? Are they worth the enormous amounts of energy that it consumes? Can AI help us live into our human vocation? Can it help us build the kin-dom of God, the Beloved Community in which all are valued, loved, fed, and made whole?

In addition to the problematic nature of the AI industry, the use of generative AI carries with it some serious theological problems. The first is that it makes it so much easier for us to ignore the gifts that God has given us for life and ministry, and to ignore the gifts that those around us and invisible to us have. Generative AI would remove a need for those who have the gift of music or visual arts or creative writing or theologizing or philosophizing or learning and interpreting other languages. It allows us to not cultivate these gifts in ourselves, and discourages us from engaging with these gifts in others. Why ask someone else to draw you a picture or write you a prayer, when all you have to do is enter a prompt into ChatGPT? When we encounter problems that our experiences haven’t equipped us for, why would we ask for advice or admit that we don’t have all the answers, when we could just go to Chat and see what it has to say? There is no longer a need to collaborate, engage with professionals, or seek out wisdom from those we recognize as different from us. But there is, because God does not make us to be self-sufficient, but to depend on one another. God does not make us to hubristically create a singular human identity and use that to claim a place above Creation, but to see the gifts each of us has and use them. Each of us has been given gifts by the Spirit, and to neglect those gifts is to neglect what the Spirit has given us.

Second, our dependence on generative AI is a rejection of the human vocation of co-creation. Last Sunday, I talked about the Creation story in Genesis 2, in which God creates people to till the ground. Thus, God invites us to be active in the Creation of the world, and of the kin-dom of God which God has placed in our midst. The Spirit has given us gifts so that we might use them to work together, because none of us has all the gifts needed to fulfill this call on our own. God calls us into community not just because it’s nice for us all to be together, but because we are different. We bring different skills, different experiences, different knowledge. We are the goldsmiths, the perfumers, the carpenters, the priests, the merchants, and the masons described by Nehemiah who share their gifts in rebuilding Jerusalem. Each of us named and storied. When we become dependent on generative AI, when we surrender our ability to collaborate, to think critically, to research, and to seek out our co-laborers, we become like Jonah, who ran from his call to work side-by-side with God. And we all know what happened to that guy. It’s not going to be easy, but Jesus never said it was going to be easy, and Jonah ran because he knew it would be hard. But God goes with us, especially where it is most difficult, and calls us to go together, to do the work of building the Beloved Community in which peace and justice reign.

We are not called to simply do what is easiest, and we certainly aren’t called to simply do what’s best for the bottom line. We are called to engage in the difficult, messy work of co-creation with the divine and one another. We are called to understand, fully, what it means to feel, to be human, to be that which is fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God. We are called to lean into and embrace the flawed, quirky, queer lives and minds that the Spirit shapes within us, not to seek ways to whitewash our differences. We are not called to assimilate, but to be different and to use our different gifts and gifts of difference with which we have been equipped. God is calling us to build with Them, and with one another. AI cannot generate the City of God. The City is built by human hands, enabled and equipped by God, who calls us together—some to build the foundations, some to build the gates, some to build the towers. We cannot outsource this calling to AI, however tempting that may seem. May we not run from where God is calling us. May we live faithfully into this call to be co-creators. May it be so. Amen.

Petitions and Resolutions: Equip and Resource Local Church Trustees for Carbon-Neutral Planning

• Genesis 1:24-27

  24 And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind.” And it was so. 25 God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind and the cattle of every kind and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good.

  26 Then God said, “Let us make humans[a] in our image, according to our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over the cattle and over all the wild animals of the earth[b] and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”

  27 So God created humans[c] in his image,
      in the image of God he created them;[d]
      male and female he created them.

• Genesis 2:4-9

  4 These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

  Another Account of the Creation

  In the day that the Lord[a] God made the earth and the heavens, 5 when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no vegetation of the field had yet sprung up—for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the ground, 6 but a stream would rise from the earth and water the whole face of the ground— 7 then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground[b] and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. 8 And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there he put the man whom he had formed. 9 Out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

I really hope that everyone did the reading for this week, because when I said last week that I might be reading the rest of these petitions in their entirety, I’d forgotten just how thorough some of my colleagues in ministry are when urging the church to work for justice and dignity for all Creation. Because of that thoroughness, I am only going to read the last section, the one with all the “therefore, be it resolved” lines, since those are the parts that actually contain the action. One important piece of context before I start reading, is that one of the committees that supports the ministry of the Upper New York Annual Conference is the Creation Justice Team. This is a group of people who reflect on the theological imperative of caring for all of Creation, and who try to find ways to support local churches and individuals in carrying out this mission. 

Another important piece of context is that local church property is cared for by the Board of Trustees of each local church. The Trustees are encouraged to conduct and annual review of the environmental impact of the church’s property, and are required to include in their annual report the factors that are currently holding the church’s property back from being carbon neutral and what we are going to do about it. Legally, this work of reducing the harm that the church does—because the church does do harm—is the responsibility of the Trustees. However, theologically and practically, this work belongs to all of us. What is stopping us? How will we stop causing harm? Why does it matter that we do so? All that and more, after we hear from today’s petition.

Therefore be it resolved that the Upper New York Annual Conference directs the Creation Care Justice Team to identify, research, and annually update a list of conference-recognized resources, including companies, agencies, utilities, nonprofit organizations, and governmental programs operating within or serving the bounds of the Annual Conference, that are able to assist local churches in conducting carbon footprint and greenhouse gas emissions assessments on church buildings, grounds, and facilities

Be it further resolved that the Creation Care Justice Team also be directed to identify, research, and annually update a similar list of resources able to assist local churches in planning or and implementing emissions-reducing capital improvements and operational changes, including but not limited to energy efficiency upgrades, electrification, renewable energy installations, and other measures that support movement toward carbon neutrality and net zero greenhouse gas emissions

Be it further resolved that these identified resources be published and made accessible to local churches across the conference in a manner appropriate to conference communications platforms, with the clear understanding that such resources are offered as guidance and support and do not constitute exclusive or mandatory vendors

Be it further resolved that the Creation Care Justice Team be charged with developing a standardized, substantive evaluation tool that local church boards of trustees may use annually to document their church’s current carbon footprint and/or greenhouse gas emissions, identify barriers to achieving carbon neutrality or net zero emissions, and articulate steps already taken and planned toward addressing those barriers

Be it further resolved that the Creation Care Justice Team be directed to collaborate with appropriate conference leadership, staff, and committees, including those responsible for charge conference reporting and data collection, to integrate his evaluation tool into the existing annual report of the Board of Trustees submitted to charge conference, replacing or meaningfully supplementing the current yes/no reporting format

Be it further resolved that the purpose of these actions is to strengthen local churches’ capacity to fulfill the responsibilities assigned to Boards of Trustees by the Book of Discipline, to enhance transparency and accountability in carbon neutrality planning, and to support faithful and contextual implementation of The United Methodist Church’s creation care commitments within the Upper New York Annual Conference

Be it further resolved that the Creation Care Justice Team be directed to report to the plenary session of the 2027 Upper New York Annual Conference on is work undertaken in response of this resolution, including the development of widened resources and evaluation tools, and to bring forward any further recommendations for conference action that may be warranted to support local churches in moving toward carbon neutrality and net zero greenhouse gas emissions.

Each of the scriptures we heard this morning gives us an account of God’s creation of the earth. Two different accounts, each with its own author, timeline, meaning, intent, and purpose. In reading scripture, it’s important to remember that the Bible was not written by one person, nor was it written at one time, nor does it speak with one singular voice. It is a collection of stories, poems, letters, and reflections written by those trying to understand who God is, why the world is the way it is, and what God wants from us. It doesn’t always agree with itself. It does invite us into conversation—with it, with God, with one another, and with Creation. The first Creation account gives us one understanding of how and why the earth was created, and humans along with it. Many biblical scholars believe that Genesis 1 was actually written after Genesis 2, and that it comes out of the Jewish priestly tradition. It sets up a pretty structured understanding of the process of creation, assigning different creations to each of seven days. It gives us a natural hierarchy, too, positioning humans above the rest of Creation and God above humans. In fact, it gives humans “dominion” over the other creatures of the earth. This understanding of dominion has led many Christians to argue that it is our God-given right, our divine obligation, to tame and develop the rest of Creation. Preachers such as John MacArthur have even referred to the earth as a “disposable planet,” that God intended for humans to use as we see fit. 

Genesis 2, the older creation account, paints a different picture. Rather than giving us the neat and orderly story of creation as God bringing order out of chaos, this account of creation has God staring at an earth that is barren—because “there was no one to till the ground.” Rather than setting up a hierarchy, positioning different parts of Creation above or below others, this version sees humans not as rulers, but as co-laborers with God. In needing someone to till the ground, God creates humans as helpers, as those who have the ability and the responsibility to care for that which is co-created with God. Each of these accounts acknowledges the inherent connection between humanity and the rest of Creation, but they disagree as to what that relationship looks like. Is it dominion and domination? Is it stewardship and care? Are we called to exploit the earth for our own wants and needs? Or, are we called to be co-creators and co-carers with the God who creates us to help? Hopefully the way I phrased those two options makes it clear which way I tend to lean. The call to till the soil, rather than to dominate, is the call to do no harm, to do good, and love God through caring for God’s Creation. It is the call to embrace this mutual responsibility to do everything in our power to ensure that that which God has breathed life into, with which we share breath, is able to flourish. 

This obligation, though, is not simply a “because the Bible tells me so” thing—in part because the Bible tells us oh, so many different things. This obligation is a lived imperative, a matter of survival, and a moral challenge to the things that humans have created on our own. There are a few Bike Trippers here, who will hopefully remember a word that we talked about a few weeks ago: Panentheism. Panentheism, from the Greek roots that add up to “all in God -ism,” is the idea that all of Creation exists within God, and that God resides within all of Creation. It would have us see God in the people sitting in the pews around us, as well as in the grass, the trees, the rocks, the water, and “everything that creeps on the ground of every kind.” And it would have us see God this way not simply so we can think “oh, yeah, that’s cool,” but so that we might better understand that God is present in our midst, and that God connects us to one another. It’s this divine connection that is manifest in what one of my seminary professors refers to “con-spiring,” the fact that humans and plants breathe together—and that we both breathe better when the air is cleaner. It’s this divine connection that is manifest in our need for water (and clean water at that!), our dependence on the earth for food, and the reciprocity of our bodies feeding the earth when to the earth we return.

It’s important to remember, too, what happens when we don’t maintain and honor this connection. Rising global temperatures, soil erosion, desertification, climate refugees, depleted food sources. When we forget, or choose to ignore, the inherent connections between humans and the rest of Creation, our abuse and neglect wreaks devastation world-wide. The pain felt in one area of Creation is not confined to that one place, species, or biome—it shakes the whole web, impacting Creation both seen and unseen. By war and by industry, by consumption that outpaces restoration. It is this repeated crucifixion of the God incarnate throughout Creation that threatens the very fabric that God has woven together. While these impacts are currently most deeply felt among the global poor, the whole of Creation will soon feel them, unless a whole lot changes. As it is, we have already experienced longer periods of drought, more intense storms, and shifting weather patterns even here in Rochester. And through it all, the whole of Creation is groaning, crying out to be made whole. And still, these cries are drowned out by calls for more and more of the same. 

It can feel hopeless. I am part of a generation that feels hopeless for a lot of reasons, one of which is the general inaction surrounding the climate crisis. But that hopelessness cannot leave us in a state of inaction. There is work to do, no matter how hopeless things can often seem. The call of the God who makes us to till the earth is still there, calling us into kinship and collaboration with all of Creation. We can do a lot as individuals, especially as far as reducing our consumption, recycling more, and composting as much as we can. Driving and flying less are also important. Eating less, or no, meat is better, too. But, the point of this petition is that individual action alone is not enough to heal Creation. This is not a solo task, but a collective endeavor—not just for those who are interested in being more green, but for all those who are a part of God’s Creation. This work requires institutional transformation. It requires our industries, our businesses, our schools, our governments, our farms, our hospitals, and yes, most certainly our churches to stop business as usual, to stop doing harm, to stop ignoring the divine and luminous web that binds us together. It requires us to ask why there are five active church buildings on one small stretch of Church Street here that include spaces that require significant energy to build and maintain. It requires us to ask where we fall short—and to answer: what are we going to do about it?

This is our call, as humans who were made to till the soil. Not to dominate the earth, not to exploit or use what we want to our heart’s content. But to take responsibility, and live into the relationships we have with the whole of Creation. This is our call, as a church, to embrace that work. Work that is beginning with an energy audit that the Trustees are having done. But work that is far from finished. May we live into this call to stewardship, the call that we were created to live out, for the good of all Creation. Amen.

Petitions and Resolutions: Children of Immigrants Deserve Education

• Leviticus 19:33-34

  33 “When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. 34 The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.

• Matthew 25:31-40

  The Judgment of the Nations

  31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world, 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40 And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’

I may have lied last week when I said that I wouldn’t be reading this week’s petition aloud. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it would probably just be for the best if I read each one at the beginning of the sermon. That way, we all, more or less, start off in the same place, regardless of whether or not you read ahead of time. So, here is our second petition: Children of Immigrants Deserve Education.

Brief Rationale:

The current disruptions in the lives of immigrants in the United States has harmed the ability of the children of immigrants to access schooling and resources. We speak and act in solidarity with the children of God whose parents are immigrants.

Whereas The United Methodist Church affirms that children are sacred gifts of God and that access to education, healthcare, and stability are matters of Christian concern; and

Whereas Scripture repeatedly calls God’s people to protect the stranger, the vulnerable, and the child; and

Whereas access to stable and uninterrupted education is one of the most significant predictors of long-term wellbeing, economic opportunity, and social participation for children; and

Whereas children in immigrant families — including U.S. citizen children — may experience educational disruption due to immigration enforcement, family detention or deportation, lack of transportation, or lack of childcare access; and

Whereas in many rural communities of Upper New York, schools function as the primary point of connection between families and public institutions, making trust, safety, and continuity particularly important; and

Whereas disruptions in schooling caused by family separation, relocation, or fear of immigration enforcement can result in trauma, learning loss, and long-term harm; and

Whereas ensuring continuity of education, access to mental health support, childcare access, and transportation equity aligns with the United Methodist Church’s commitment

Therefore be it resolved that United Methodist of Upper New York affirm that all children — regardless of their or their parents' immigration status — deserve stable, uninterrupted access to education, and

Be it further resolved that we encourage local churches, districts, and affiliated ministries to partner with schools and community organizations to support children in immigrant families, including:

• providing tutoring, mentoring, or after-school support supporting access to childcare programs

• Assisting families in navigating school enrollment and services offering food support/provision or families in need

• offering transportation assistance where feasible; and

Be it further resolved that United Methodists in Upper New York advocate for policies in New York State that protect educational continuity for children affected by immigration enforcement by contacting their representatives. These policies include:

• Protections that prevent unnecessary school disruption

• Trauma-informed counseling and mental health services

• clear credit transfer and re-entry policies for displaced students safeguards

• allowing U.S. citizen children to maintain academic standing in temporarily abroad; and

Be it further resolved that United Methodist of Upper New York support measures that improve access to education in rural communities, including:

• Transportation access for students in immigrant families

• access to childcare and early childhood education programs

• community liaison roles that help families understand educational policies and services

Be if further resolved that the Upper New York Social Holiness Committee monitor relevant state legislation and communicate opportunities for advocacy to congregations; and that they forward this resolution to the United Methodist General Board of Church and Society and to ecumenical and interfaith partners in New York State as an expression of our shared commitment to children’s wellbeing.

Got all that? Good. As a note, we’ve gotten into a habit at Annual Conference of not getting a chance to address each piece of legislation that comes before us. This is partly because debate sometimes drags on for a while. This might be hard to believe, but when you get a few hundred pastors in a room together, the conversation can go on and on and on… Sometimes, it happens because we don’t manage our time well in other parts of the agenda. Either way, the response to this habit has been to do this thing where, if we feel like we might not get to all the petitions, we vote to bundle them all together and vote all at once with no debate. So, there was no discussion surrounding this petition, nor was there any for either of the next two petitions. This sermon, then, is sort of a speech in favor of this petition that I never got to give.

Last week, I began the sermon by talking about some of the things that Methodists are known for. Among these things I listed social action, the work of justice and mercy that has been a hallmark of the Methodist movement since John and Charles were still at Oxford. To be Methodist was not to be concerned with looking as stereotypically pious as you possibly could, but in recognizing that the most pious thing we can do is embrace our responsibility to care for one another. This love put into action took on many forms in the first century of Methodism, from the most hands-on to financial contributions. One fervent Methodist supporter, Selina Hastings (known as Lady Huntingdon) nearly bankrupted her husband by her financial backing of many Methodist ministries. I referenced last week the prison visitation ministry that the Wesleys engaged in with the very first group of Methodists, at the urging of one of their friends, William Morgan. Together, this group would pray with the incarcerated, pass letters along to family, and even advocate for those who were being mistreated or whom they believed were innocent.  One of these prisoners was a man named Thomas Blair, who was accused of being sexually intimate with another man. The Wesleys petitioned for an end to his mistreatment, and even raised funds to have him released from prison. This is the Methodist tradition of caring for the whole person, of meeting immediate needs with mercy, and of working for justice with those who are facing injustice.

Another part of this tradition is the Methodist commitment to education. One of the first major projects that John Wesley and the early Methodists undertook was to start a school. As Wesley was doing his travelling preacher thing around England, he saw for himself the ways in which poverty had become generational. He spent a fair amount of time around the coal miners of western England in particular, sympathizing with the cruel working conditions and little pay that the men earned. He also realized that the children of these coal miners would be restricted to their parents’ lives without intervention. So, in 1748, the Methodists opened the Kingswood School, primarily for the purpose of educating the children of coal miners so that they could have a shot at attending Oxford or Cambridge. The Methodists established other schools around the country, and many of the first Methodist preaching houses doubled as schools during the week. The Methodists became known as the people who might not have been the best-educated, but who actively worked to make education accessible to as many people as possible. And that tradition was carried over to North America, where such schools as Boston University, Syracuse University, Duke University, Bethune-Cookman University, and any school that has “Methodist” or “Wesleyan” in the name, were founded by Methodists and those of other offshoot denominations. 

Starting schools was, at one point, a top priority of the Methodist Church. By 1860, there were over 200 Methodist-affiliated primary schools, secondary schools, literary institutions, and colleges. Since the 1860s, the Methodist Church, and now the United Methodist Church, has had programs in place to provide financial assistance to members of the church attending colleges and universities—programs that we support every year when we take our United Methodist Student Special Sunday offering. In the 1970, the United Methodist Church established the Black College Fund to expand access to higher education for African Americans. We support that fund, also, through our giving. In the 1990s, the United Methodist Church also founded Africa University in Mutare, Zimbabwe, to further expand access to education globally. The Methodist track record around schools isn’t perfect, though, and it’s important to note that there were a number of Methodist-founded Indigenous Boarding Schools that sought to eradicate indigenous culture and “civilise” the first peoples of this land. Even so, this Methodist emphasis on expanding access to education is truly something that has been central to how we have lived our faith since the very beginning. From local Sunday Schools to prestigious universities, the Methodist focus on education is not new, nor is it the influence of 21st-century ideals or “wokeism.”

So, to say that we support access to education for all children, or even for all people, regardless of the parent’s or child’s immigration status should be obvious. Before public schools existed, when even primary education was a commodity reserved for the wealthy, Methodists affirmed the sacred worth of each child and refused to let poor children be left behind. When higher education was seen as a privilege for those of one race but no other, one gender but no other, one nationality but no other—Methodists worked to expand access to education. And so today, when the barriers to even primary education are citizen status, the continued terrorization of children and families by ICE, and the trauma that our education system allows its students to experience, we Methodists are called to act. By our tradition and our faith, we are called to put God’s love into action, to create opportunities for all children to receive an education, to not have to worry about being abducted and disappeared by a government that deports its own citizens, and to be protected by those with privilege. By this petition, we are called to take specific actions—to partner with local schools. Because yes, we do have immigrant children in our local schools. We are called to provide academic assistance, mentoring, and support. We are called to provide transportation services, so that children don’t have to wait for a school bus while being watched by ICE, as happened in Lindenwold, New Jersey, last February. 

By food and school supplies, we are called to help so that our most vulnerable neighbors don’t have to put themselves at risk by going to Walmart or the Dollar Tree or Target just to buy the bare minimum for primary school learning. But our call doesn’t stop there, because being the people called Methodists means performing acts of mercy, yes. But it also means working for justice. It means advocating for education policies that make our children safer and ensure that they have the same access to education that our other children do. It means advocating for changes to immigration policies that tear apart families, that encourage neighbors to turn on one another, and that make our communities more dangerous. This is our call, to embrace immigrants and their children, and to treat all those who are vulnerable as if they were Christ in our midst. It sounds simple. It sounds obvious. But there is a need for this ministry, even if we don’t see it right in front of us. This is our call, as a local church that is a part of the United Methodist Connection, to take up this work. How will we embrace it? How will we live out what this petition, what our tradition, what our faith calls us to? Amen.

Petitions and Resolutions: Reclaiming Our Methodist Musical Heritage

• 1 Samuel 2:1-10

  Hannah’s Prayer

  2 Hannah prayed and said,

  “My heart exults in the Lord;
      my strength is exalted in my God.[a]
  My mouth derides my enemies
      because I rejoice in your victory.

  2 There is no Holy One like the Lord,
      no one besides you;
      there is no Rock like our God.
  3 Talk no more so very proudly;
      let not arrogance come from your mouth,
  for the Lord is a God of knowledge,
      and by him actions are weighed.
  4 The bows of the mighty are broken,
      but the feeble gird on strength.
  5 Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,
      but those who were hungry are fat with spoil.
  The barren has borne seven,
      but she who has many children is forlorn.
  6 The Lord kills and brings to life;
      he brings down to Sheol and raises up.
  7 The Lord makes poor and makes rich;
      he brings low; he also exalts.
  8 He raises up the poor from the dust;
      he lifts the needy from the ash heap
  to make them sit with princes
      and inherit a seat of honor.
  For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s,
      and on them he has set the world.

  9 He will guard the feet of his faithful ones,
      but the wicked will perish in darkness,
      for not by might does one prevail.
  10 The Lord! His adversaries will be shattered;
      the Most High[b] will thunder in heaven.
  The Lord will judge the ends of the earth;
      he will give strength to his king
      and exalt the power of his anointed.”

• Luke 1:46-55

  Mary’s Song of Praise

  46 And Mary[a] said,

  “My soul magnifies the Lord,
  47     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
  48 for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant.
      Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed,
  49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
      and holy is his name;
  50 indeed, his mercy is for those who fear him
      from generation to generation.
  51 He has shown strength with his arm;
      he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
  52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones
      and lifted up the lowly;
  53 he has filled the hungry with good things
      and sent the rich away empty.
  54 He has come to the aid of his child Israel,
      in remembrance of his mercy,
  55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
      to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

You may or may not have noticed when you read this week’s e-news, which is something that I know you all do, but there was homework for today. Today is the start of our worship series for the next few weeks, based on a few of the petitions and resolutions that were addressed at Annual Conference this past May. If you didn’t do the reading for today, that’s alright. This first one is short enough that I can read the whole thing for you now. The next few weeks’ readings are a little more dense, so I won’t be reading those word for work, though I will read excerpts. So, if you’d like to study each of the readings for the next few weeks, you can check the e-news when it comes out. Or, if you don’t feel like reading, that’s fine. I’m sure you can still get something out of the sermons anyway. Now, without further ado, here is our first petition: Reclaiming Our Methodist Musical Heritage.

Brief Rationale: 

For years, worship at Annual Conference sessions has consisted primarily of contemporary music from non-Methodist sources, the content of which at times conflicts with our doctrine and theology

Whereas, the Book of Discipline of the United Methodist Church tells us that it is our responsibility “to foster the use of the best resources for worship at conference meetings and in all the churches of the conference, promote the use of The United Methodist Hymnal (1989)” (¶629.4b), and

Whereas, the Book of Discipline tells us that “The Wesley brothers also composed hymns that were rich in doctrinal and experiential content. The hymns, especially those of Charles Wesley, not only are among the best-loved within Methodism but also are major resources for doctrinal instruction” (¶103), and

Whereas, the Book of Discipline tells us that “Lists of recommended doctrinal resources vary from generation to generation but generally acknowledge the importance of the hymnbook, the ecumenical creeds, and the General Rules” (¶103), and

Whereas, the Book of Discipline tells us that “The Wesleyan hymnody served in practice as the most important single means of communicating and preserving the doctrinal substance of the gospel” (¶103), and

Whereas, the Book of Discipline tells us that “With other Christians, we declare the essential oneness of the church in Christ Jesus. This rich heritage of shared Christian belief finds expression in our hymnody and liturgies” (¶102), and

Whereas, the United Methodist Publishing House has published three hymnals and four supplemental hymn books for use by United Methodists, containing in total over two thousand hymns and spirituals,

Therefore be it resolved that the music selected for worship at Annual Conference Sessions should primarily consist of hymns found in United Methodist published material, such as The United Methodist Hymnal, The Faith We Sing, and Worship & Song.

Submitted by Dorothy Jayne Smith (yes, relation). 

What are the people called Methodists known for? What sets us apart from other churches? For some, it’s our love of fellowship. The stereotype has long been that wherever two or three Methodists are gathered, you can usually find a potluck dinner. When my dad and I were attending Mass every Saturday while I was in seminary, our friend, the priest, once told us that he could tell we were Methodists from the first time we showed up there, because we took our coats off for the service and hung around afterwards to socialize. Or maybe it’s our long history of social action. From the days of John Wesley and his Oxford Holy Club visiting prisons, to the Methodist deaconesses who walked with immigrants through Ellis Island, to those who have marched in the streets for justice for generations. From neighborhood food pantries, to Community Outreach Centers, to the United Methodist Committee on Relief. For many, being a Methodist means doing, helping, putting love into action. Others might point to distinct Methodist ideas about grace and freewill, or our particular way of organizing on local, regional, and international levels. But there’s something else that Methodists still tend to be known for, and for good reason: our singing. In ecumenical spaces, where Christians from various denominations come together, Methodists have long been marked by our rich musical tradition, and our tradition of strong congregational singing. 

Our music is one of the things that sets us apart, and that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Charles Wesley, one of the founders of the Methodist movement, wrote over 65 hundred hymns in his lifetime, dozens of which are in the hymnals that we use each week. There are also a few hymns that John Wesley wrote, but we don’t talk about those as much. Charles, though, wrote many of the hymns that are standard throughout the year, including “Come, Though Long-Expected Jesus” each Advent, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” each Christmas Eve, “Christ The Lord Is Risen Today” every Easter, and “Love Divine All Loves Excelling” regularly, so we don’t forget it. And, of course, one of my personal favorites, “O For a Thousand Tongues To Sing,” which I love so much, we’re singing it twice today. Even if you don’t know these hymns by name or by heart, even if you come from different denominations or from no faith community in particular, many of these are probably familiar tunes—“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” at least. And, even if you don’t consciously know it, these hymns carry not only a sense of familiarity for many, but also a sung catechism of sorts. They reflect the particular social and theological beliefs that the Wesley brothers organized around almost three hundred years ago—the idea that Christ is our liberator, the one who sets us free from chains and from sin. The idea that we, as humans, are not destined to remain as we are, that we are not fatally flawed, but that we can embrace God’s grace and find wholeness and transformation in it.

While not every hymn in our hymnals can be said to capture a distinct Wesleyan Methodist theology (“Trust and Obey” is one that comes to mind), many of our hymns do. From the earliest hymns of John and Charles, to the nineteenth- and twentieth-century hymns by Fanny Crosby and Charles Albert Tindley, to the works of Georgia Harkness, through to today’s Mark Miller. Our hymnbooks, in their multiplicity, contain hymns that speak to us of Christ’s liberating power, of God’s transforming grace, and of our call to gather together as Christ’s body for the transformation of the world. These hymns draw from our shared theology, and bring in lived experiences, references to scripture (“when the storms of life are raging, stand by me…”), and tie these things together with reason. And, wouldn’t you know it, those are the four parts of our distinctly Methodist theological framework: the Wesleyan Quadrilateral (Scripture, Tradition, Reason, and Experience). Our hymns are theological documents, not simply sources of entertainment for us. They help us to pray and praise God, but also to teach and reinforce what it is that we teach about God and God’s call on our lives. So, it matters what we sing, as much as it matters why and how we sing. 

This petition caused quite a stir at Annual Conference. It was funny, we passed a resolution calling for a just resolution to the atrocities taking place in Gaza and acknowledging that we, as the church, have not done enough to advocate for those who are being made to suffer without any debate or discussion. But when it came to our church music, everyone had something to say. And it was funnier still, when many of the…ahem…older folks at the Conference rose to speak against this petition, arguing that we need to leave behind our hymns and go all in on Contemporary Christian Music in order to attract younger people to the church—ignoring the fact that the person who wrote the petition is my younger sister, who’s 22. Multiple speakers invoked Psalm 96 in their arguments, which tells us to “sing to the Lord a new song,” and insisted that God must surely get tired of hearing the same songs over and over and over again. But we forget that it is old songs that arise again and again in scripture, in the stories that teach us about the way that Christ walked. We forget, or perhaps never learned, that when Jesus was bleeding on the cross, gasping his final breaths, he cried out “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” not a new song at all, but a quote from Psalm 22, the old songs the he would have grown up hearing. 

We forget, or perhaps never made the connection, that when Mary learns that she is going to have a baby, and that baby is going to be Jesus, that she sings a song that is not new or original. She sings an old song, the same song that Hannah sang when she learned that she was going to have a baby. Mary echoes this song from her own faith tradition not only because the message is appropriate—that God has brought down the powerful, lifted up the lowly, and is turning the world upside-down—but because in this moment of emotion, of upheaval, of probably too much going on all at once, there was a sense of comfort in singing the words that came from a familiar place. Going through something that no one she knew had ever gone through, she found the words written by a woman whose experiences were similar. She found comfort in words that she had heard sung in worship or at home by her mother or grandmother. In that moment, when there were no words, Mary found words from her people. She found words of comfort for that very moment that connected her to a people more than any genealogy could ever have. 

Our hymns and sacred songs are our connection, both to one another and to those who have sung them before us. When we sing, whether we grew up in the church or are singing them for the first time, we are joining our voices with all our ancestors of faith who have sung them before us. We are embodying the memory of all these saints who have shared these songs. And, in sharing together these common hymnals, we are embodying our connection to other United Methodists around the world, who sing many of the same hymns. Our hymns are one of the tangible and lived expressions of our capital-C Connection, the theology we live out in the United Methodist Church that holds that we don’t walk this road by ourselves. 

I want to end by affirming that this reclamation of our Methodist musical heritage is not to say that we can’t sing hymns from other traditions, or that we can’t sing new hymns, or that we can’t sing songs that aren’t in the hymnal. I mean, “It Is Well With My Soul” is a great hymn, and it was written by a Presbyterian. And in a few weeks, on “AI Sunday,” we’re going to be singing a hymn that was written by one of my favorite contemporary hymn writers, Ruth Duck, that isn’t in any of our hymnals. Duck was United Church of Christ, but she graduated from a United Methodist seminary and taught at one, too! I love singing hymns from a variety of times, places, and people. From the great English classics to hymns I’ve only learned in the last few years from Zimbabwe and South Africa. The statement that we must reclaim our Methodist musical heritage is not to say that we should ignore other voices, other artists, other traditions. It’s to remind us that what we sing matters. It’s to remind us of the importance of our connection, both to one another and to the past. And it’s to remind us that God doesn’t always need a brand new song or prayer or idea or accomplishment or anything else. Sometimes, the words that are written on our hearts are the words that were written tens, hundreds, or even thousands of years ago. May we remember that we are here for a reason: to be the people called Methodists. Not better or worse than any other denomination or tradition. But still, a people marked by our love of community, our hunger to see the world made new, and yes, by our rich and rooted musical heritage. May we claim this with passion, may we allow it to feed us, challenge us, and comfort us, and may we find new songs still along the way. Amen.

Who Will Separate Us from the Love of Christ?

• Romans 8:26-39

  26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes[a] with groanings too deep for words. 27 And God,[b] who searches hearts, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit[c] intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

  28 We know that all things work together[d] for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. 29 For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family.[e] 30 And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

  31 What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? 32 He who did not withhold his own Son but gave him up for all of us, how will he not with him also give us everything else? 33 Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is to condemn? It is Christ[f] who died, or rather, who was raised, who is also at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us. 35 Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? 36 As it is written,

  “For your sake we are being killed all day long;
      we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.”

  37 No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us.   For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Five hundred thousand. That’s the increase in preventable deaths worldwide since the dissolution of U-S-A-I-D in 2025. According to a peer reviewed study from U-C-L-A’s school of public health that included researchers from the US, Spain, Brazil, and Mozambique, that number could reach 14 million by the end of the decade, including 4 and a half million children under the age of 5.

Ninety-one million. That’s the number of lives the study also estimates have been saved by programs funded by U-S-A-I-D over the past two decades. 

Sixty-four dollars. That’s the amount the average U- S taxpayer provided in funding to U-S-A-I-D each year. Sixty-four dollars. AIDS patients in remote African communities wonder who will visit them as faith-based health programs have lost their community workers. Sixty-four dollars.

Twenty-four million dollars. That’s the amount the U-M-C’s Board of Global Ministries has distributed through the This Moment Matters Campaign in an effort to offset these cuts through emergency grants focusing on five crucial fields: agriculture and food security, education, global health, migration, and peace efforts. Twenty-four million dollars. That’s about 6 dollars per United Methodist in the US, and just over one tenth of one percent of U-S-A-I-D’s 2025 budget.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us.   For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Forty-six thousand. That’s the number of direct civilian deaths from the war in Afghanistan. One hundred thirty thousand. That’s the number of additional deaths due to malnutrition, disease, and infrastructure destruction. One hundred eighty thousand. That’s the smaller estimate of direct civilian deaths in the Iraq war, with the possibility that indirect deaths number in the millions. Estimates for the current wars in the middle east are difficult to obtain, but surely measure in the thousands and will increase. 

Eight trillion dollars. That’s the financial cost of all U-S wars and military actions since 2001, including both direct military expenditures and the current and future costs to care for veterans. Eight trillion dollars. That’s four times the total amount of student debt in the US. Eight trillion dollars. One-fifth of the US government’s debt. Eight trillion dollars, and millions of lives. 

Billions. That’s how many people across the globe are adherents of faith traditions that claim to oppose war and work for peace. Billions – ranging from Quakers, Mennonites, Jainists, and others who are strict pacifists, to Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, and Muslims who abhor war. “The church deplores war and all other forms of violent conflict and urges the peaceful settlement of all disputes. We yearn for the day when there will be no more war and people will live together in peace and justice.” That’s what we say in our United Methodist Social Principles.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us.   For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Seven hundred and seventy thousand. That’s how many Americans lacked permanent housing in a recent count. Eighteen percent. That’s the increase from the previous year. One-fifth. That’s how many of those were children. Zero. That’s the number of communities who have adequate permanent housing to support everyone who is homeless. Housing costs skyrocket, debts accumulate, housing becomes out of reach.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us.   For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Five hundred million. That’s the number of civilian-owned firearms there are in the US, with more than half of those being handguns. Forty-four thousand. That’s how many Americans died from firearms in 2024. Twenty percent. That’s the share of deaths under 18 caused by firearms – making it the leading cause of death for children and teens. Ninety-one billion dollars. That’s the total revenues of the firearm industry, including manufacturing, distribution, and retail.

About 3 in 5 Americans support stronger gun laws. The gun lobby gives millions to elected officials. States with stronger gun laws have fewer gun deaths per capita. Everytown estimates that over two hundred sixty thousand lives could be saved over the next decade if every state had laws that mirrored those with the most stringent regulations. Things as simple as trigger locks and gun safes could significantly reduce the number of youth firearm deaths each year.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us.   For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Four million. That’s how many United Methodist members there are in the US. One point five million. That’s how many more non-member constituents there are in United Methodist Churches. Ten million. That’s how many United Methodists there are worldwide. Over one billion dollars. That’s the historic amount given through the General Board of Global Ministries to United Methodist Committee on Relief and Advance, with recent yearly giving around forty-three million dollars.

There are about three hundred fifty United Methodist missionaries serving in over sixty countries, working in healthcare, education, nutrition, and many other fields. There are over three hundred United Methodist affiliated hospitals, over a hundred United Methodist schools, colleges, and universities – including Africa University, the first private, chartered university in Zimbabwe.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword? Will cuts to aid programs or endless wars or an epidemic of homelessness or gun violence? …No, in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. No thing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Who Plants the Weeds?

• Romans 8:12–25

  12 So then, brothers and sisters, we are obligated, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh— 13 for if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. 15 For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba![a] Father!” 16 it is that very Spirit bearing witness[b] with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs: heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if we in fact suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

  Future Glory

  18 I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God, 20 for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its enslavement to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning together as it suffers together the pains of labor, 23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope, for who hopes for what one already sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

• Matthew 13:24-30

  The Parable of Weeds among the Wheat

  24 He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field, 25 but while everybody was asleep an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and then went away. 26 So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. 27 And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ 28 He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ 29 But he replied, ‘No, for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. 30 Let both of them grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’ ”

Last Fall, on September 14, I preached a sermon in which I insinuated, or maybe even declared, that Jesus would have been an incompetent shepherd. This was the Sunday when we heard about Jesus leaving the ninety-nine behind in pursuit of the one sheep who had wandered off or been taken. I talked about how this would not have been considered “best practice” amongst shepherds at the time, as it meant abandoning the bulk of the product for the sake of what could be written off as reasonable losses. I won’t recap that whole sermon, though it is worth a read or listen if you feel so inclined. But if there’s something else that Jesus could not be mistaken for, it’s a botanist. We get a hint of this in the parable of the mustard seed, in which Jesus refers to the mustard seed as the smallest of the seeds. It is not. We see signs of this, too, in this parable of the weeds, in which Jesus seems to think that the weeds that spring up in the wheat fields are planted there by “an enemy.” I’m not sure when we, as humans, first figured out how weeds come to be, but isn’t it reasonable to think that they come from the same place as the plants that we put there on purpose? And I don’t know that it’s fair to say that the wind or critters who often carry these weed seeds are, in fact, the enemy. Are they not just a part of Creation? Are they not simply doing their thing, minding their business? Contrary to what Jesus preaches here, weeds are usually not the product of an intentional act, by a saboteur. 

In fact, there are many naturalists who would argue that the presence of weeds can be an indicator of healthy soil, or a healthy garden. Weeds, like other plants, grow where the conditions are good, where they can dig in and thrive. This should sound familiar, since last week’s gospel reading had something to do with the ground that seeds fall on and where they tend to do best. But plants, like people, don’t all thrive in the same conditions. Some of the plants that we call weeds thrive in loose soil, some in compacted soil. Some thrive in acidic conditions, others in more neutral or alkaline conditions. The types of weeds that grow can tell us what our gardens might be lacking, what our fields might need in order for our crops to thrive, and what we need to do in order to produce the intended outcome. Not to mention the fact that some of the prettiest flowers—like woodsorrel, fleabane, and chicory—are often considered weeds. I won’t defend all weeds, especially not those that are invasive and wreak havoc on native ecosystems. But I do think it’s important for us to consider that what we label as “weeds” are just the plants that we don’t want to have around. Sometimes that’s for good reason, since there are some plants that cause harm to their surroundings and to other plants. Sometimes, though, we label plants as weeds simply because they disrupt the homogeneity of our lawns, the aesthetics of our flower beds, or our personal preferences—without regard for how our weeding impacts the plants themselves or our siblings throughout Creation who depend on them.

All that being said, it’s also important for us to look at the particular weeds that are discussed in this particular parable. In the gospel translation by scholar Sarah Ruden, these weeds are identified specifically as darnel weeds, which, Ruden points out in a footnote, were often mixed in with the wheat seeds that farmers were spreading in Jesus’ day. She elaborates that darnel weed seeds are virtually indistinguishable from wheat seeds, and that it wasn’t until the invention of devices to separate the two that wheat seeds could be sown without the darnel weed seeds mixed in. Because of this, it wouldn’t have been until the wheat and the weeds sprouted that farmers would have been able to tell the difference between the two plants, though it’s worth noting that darnel and wheat still look similar, even when they have sprouted. So, in reality, it was the farmers themselves, not some anonymous enemy, who sowed the weeds with the wheat. Despite their best intentions, despite their best efforts and even their exercise of best practices for the time, there was little they could do to prevent the proliferation of the darnel weeds. And therein lies the rub, that even though they might have done all of what they thought was right, it was still the planters who caused harm to the fields and the plants around them. Although, based on what I read this week about darnel weeds, some farmers would take advantage of the plant’s intoxicating properties to give their beer a little more kick. So, maybe there’s also a lesson in there about silver linings? But that’s not my message today.

This parable is one of many descriptions in the gospels of the kingdom of God as a place where the bad is separated from the good—the weeds from the wheat, the rams from the sheep, the unrighteous from the righteous. But, knowing what we know today about plants, this image becomes messy. It blurs these lines between good and bad, doing good and doing harm, because these first-century planters believed that all they were doing was the right thing, when in reality they were sowing harmful weeds alongside their crops. It’s a reminder to us of a couple things. The first is that, as we awaken more to the world around us, we might more clearly see the ways in which we do harm when we think we are doing good. We might think we are simply doing less harm by buying more expensive clothing that will last longer and reduce waste, when even the more expensive clothing is often made in poor working conditions by those who are paid poverty wages. We might think that we are reducing the harm we do to the planet by putting more into the recycling without reducing how much we consume, when far less than what we put in the bin is actually recycled, and it is our initial consumption that often carries more significance. For that matter, we might think that we can address climate change and the crises that that carries simply by adjusting our personal actions, when it is corporate polluters and military engines that do by far the most harm. 

Reducing the harm that we do is important. But it is also important to see the ways in which we, as individuals and the collective, continue to fall short, continue to sow weeds when we think all we’re doing is sowing wheat. Through our actions, and also through our words. When we repeat phrases such as “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” we might think that that is a fruitful idea, when really it carries weeds. When we see local governments and national lawmakers work harder at hiding poverty than improving conditions for the poor, where some might see wheat, we must see the weeds. When those who shape immigration policy see disappearing neighbors and locking up families in deplorable conditions as sowing wheat, it is our call to call out the weeds as we see them. This parable shows us a vision of the kingdom of God, the beloved community, that calls us to claim the seeds we sow—all of the seeds we sow. It calls us to see that even when we think we are on the right side, even when we try our best, even when we put thought and effort into doing as much good and as little harm as possible, still we might plant some weeds. And when that happens, when we plant harmful weeds that choke out the vulnerable plants, it is our call to remove those weeds and make our environment healthier. When we learn that what we are doing causes harm, it is not enough to say that that wasn’t our intention. It is our call to correct our behavior, to turn towards what is healthy and healing, and move onwards towards perfection.

We are called to plant good seeds. We are called to do good, and do no harm. May we see the bad seeds we plant, and plant those no more. May it be sow. Amen.

What the Instruction Could Not Do

• Romans 8:1–11

  So now there isn’t any condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death. God has done what was impossible for the Law, since it was weak because of selfishness. God condemned sin in the body by sending his own Son to deal with sin in the same body as humans, who are controlled by sin. He did this so that the righteous requirement of the Law might be fulfilled in us. Now the way we live is based on the Spirit, not based on selfishness. People whose lives are based on selfishness think about selfish things, but people whose lives are based on the Spirit think about things that are related to the Spirit. The attitude that comes from selfishness leads to death, but the attitude that comes from the Spirit leads to life and peace. So the attitude that comes from selfishness is hostile to God. It doesn’t submit to God’s Law, because it can’t. People who are self-centered aren’t able to please God.

  But you aren’t self-centered. Instead you are in the Spirit, if in fact God’s Spirit lives in you. If anyone doesn’t have the Spirit of Christ, they don’t belong to him. If Christ is in you, the Spirit is your life because of God’s righteousness, but the body is dead because of sin. If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your human bodies also, through his Spirit that lives in you.

• Matthew 13:1–9, 18–23

  That day Jesus went out of the house and sat down beside the lake. Such large crowds gathered around him that he climbed into a boat and sat down. The whole crowd was standing on the shore.

  He said many things to them in parables: “A farmer went out to scatter seed. As he was scattering seed, some fell on the path, and birds came and ate it. Other seed fell on rocky ground where the soil was shallow. They sprouted immediately because the soil wasn’t deep. But when the sun came up, it scorched the plants, and they dried up because they had no roots. Other seed fell among thorny plants. The thorny plants grew and choked them. Other seed fell on good soil and bore fruit, in one case a yield of one hundred to one, in another case a yield of sixty to one, and in another case a yield of thirty to one. Everyone who has ears should pay attention.”

  “Consider then the parable of the farmer. Whenever people hear the word about the kingdom and don’t understand it, the evil one comes and carries off what was planted in their hearts. This is the seed that was sown on the path. As for the seed that was spread on rocky ground, this refers to people who hear the word and immediately receive it joyfully. Because they have no roots, they last for only a little while. When they experience distress or abuse because of the word, they immediately fall away. As for the seed that was spread among thorny plants, this refers to those who hear the word, but the worries of this life and the false appeal of wealth choke the word, and it bears no fruit. As for what was planted on good soil, this refers to those who hear and understand, and bear fruit and produce—in one case a yield of one hundred to one, in another case a yield of sixty to one, and in another case a yield of thirty to one.”

For God has done what the instruction could not do.

We live in an age of information and instruction. It's almost cliché to say at this point, but never before have ordinary people had such immediate access to so much knowledge. We carry libraries in our pockets. We can ask almost any question at almost any moment and expect an answer within seconds.

Want to learn a new skill? You’re bound to find hours and hours of content on YouTube ready to teach you.

When I was going through school as a kid, I had CliffsNotes and SparkNotes if I didn’t feel like reading three chapters of To Kill a Mockingbird one night. Now we have things like Blinkist, ready to give you the key ideas from any given book in fifteen minutes or less.

Gone are the days of card catalogues. Hell, gone are the days of crawling through page after page on Google. Now, you can just type a question into ChatGPT and you’ll have an answer to your question that at least seems plausible.

Of course, whether or not its output is actually correct is another matter altogether.

There is no shortage of information. There is no shortage of data. There is no shortage of instruction. And that’s not, necessarily, a bad thing.

Wisdom is good.

Instruction is good.

Teaching is good.

Christians of all stripes ought to believe that. After all, our faith begins with a teacher. Jesus didn’t gather consumers. Jesus didn’t gather producers. He gathered disciples.

And yet.

For all the information that we have.

For all the instruction and teaching that we have, literally sitting in our pockets and at our fingertips.

Are we actually any wiser as a culture today than we were generations ago?

If we take a good, honest look in the mirror, has all of this information made us more discerning?

Am I alone in having that experience of knowing exactly what I should do…

…and still not doing it?

I know I should be more mindful of my spending habits.

I know I should move more.

I know I should reach out to that friend I’ve been meaning to call. 

I know I should turn off my phone and go to bed earlier.

I know I should forgive.

I know all of these things and more, and yet..,

Knowing isn’t the same thing as becoming.

Knowing isn’t the same thing as becoming. Information can tell us where life is found, but it can never give us life.

We keep on assuming that the answer is just one more piece of information, hidden away in the right podcast.

The right church.

The right budgeting app.

The right exercise plan.

The right Bible reading plan.

The one, simple trick that will allow us to hack our way into becoming the people we want to be.

But we don’t. Not because the advice is wrong or the teachings are, necessarily, bad. But because there are some things that instruction, all by itself, simply cannot accomplish.

God has done what the instruction, weakened by the flesh, could not do.

Not because the instruction was wrong, but simply because there are some things that only God can do.

Now, you may have heard it said that Paul’s central argument throughout his letter to the Romans goes a little something like this:

The law was bad. Jesus is good.

Because the law failed, God sent Jesus.

But there’s just one, small problem with this summarization of Paul’s argument. He never actually says that.

In fact, Paul goes out of his way to say exactly the opposite.

The law is holy and righteous. The torah—the teachings and the law and the instruction—is good.

Your word, O God, is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path…accept my offerings of praise, O God, and teach me your ordinances...I do not forget your law…your decrees are my heritage forever and the joy of my heart.

The psalmist sings of the goodness of the Torah—of God’s teachings that have been passed down from generation to generation. Paul never says that this instruction is deficient or wicked. Notice what he does say:

God has done what the instruction, weakened by the flesh, could not do.

Weakened by the flesh—notice where the weakness lies. It’s not in the instruction. It’s not in the law.

It lies in us.

Or, to use Paul’s language, σαρκός, the flesh. 

Before I go any further, I’m going to pause to name that flesh is one of those church words that has accumulated a lot of negative baggage over the centuries.

Throughout Christian history, some have misunderstood Paul to mean that our bodies are somehow less holy than our souls. But Paul never says that. In fact, Paul's entire hope rests on the resurrection of the body. So when Paul speaks of "the flesh," he isn't talking about skin and bones. He's talking about a way of being human that turns inward on itself instead of outward toward God and neighbor.

When Paul talks about “the flesh”, he isn’t talking about your physical body, per se. He isn’t saying that your body is bad or that your physical, material existence is somehow less spiritual than our souls.

No, when Paul speaks of “the flesh,” humanity trying to manufacture life on its own terms. Humanity trying to become its own source of security. Its own sense of meaning. Its own source of salvation.

And that, friends, is where the instruction reaches its limit.

Because instruction can tell us where life is found.

Instruction can tell us what flourishing looks like.

Instruction can point us toward justice.

Instruction can teach us to love our neighbor.

Instruction can describe and paint a picture of the very Kingdom of God.

But instruction cannot make us into the kind of people who live that way.

Knowing isn’t the same thing as becoming

Instruction can diagnose, but it cannot heal.

Instruction can point toward life, but it cannot breathe life into dry bones.

Instruction can say, “love thy neighbor,” but it cannot reconcile enemies into family.

Only God can do that. Only Christ can do that. Only the Spirit can do that.

Paul doesn’t say “you finally figured it out,” or “humanity eventually became wise enough.” He doesn’t even say “the instruction has finally started working.”

No, he simply says, God has done.

God has acted.

God has moved first.

God has accomplished in Jesus Christ what humanity, left to itself, never could. Not by giving us more information or more data or more law. But by giving us God’s own Son. By breathing into us God’s own Spirit who animates our very beings.

And if that’s true—if life is ultimately something God creates and freely gives rather than something we manufacture—than maybe we’ve been asking exactly the wrong question about Jesus’ famous parable al wrong.

Because for as long as I can remember, I’ve almost always heard this parable preached the same way.

In which kind of ground are you planted?

Are you on the path where seed gets trampled or eaten by birds?

Are you on the rocky ground where your roots can’t grow deep and you wither and die?

Are you among thorns that will grow up alongside you and choke the life out of you?

Or are you in the good soil? Soil rich with nutrients wherein you can be rooted and grow and yield a bountiful harvest.

In which kind of ground are you planted?

On the surface, that seems like a perfectly reasonable question. After all, Jesus himself explains what each of the soils represents—I mean, how often do we get that level of clarity in Jesus’ sayings?

And yet, if that’s the first question we ask—if we come away from this parable asking, in what kind of ground are we planted—haven’t we quietly slipped right back into the same trap Paul has been warning us about?

If the point of the parable is simply, make sure you’re planted in good soil, that’s just another instruction.

Try harder. Be more faithful. Be less distracted. Grow deeper roots and don’t let the worries of the world choke you out. Become the kind of person who bears fruit.

And look, that’s all good advice. 

But knowing isn’t the same thing as becoming

Instruction can tell us where life is found, but it cannot give us life.

If we reduce this parable to just another self-improvement project, we risk overlooking something far more important. Something far more transformative.

After all, seeds don’t choose where they’re planted, right?

Oh sure, plants have evolved all sorts of mechanisms to aid in the propagation of their seeds. Seeds can by carried by the wind. Consumed by roving animals and eventually…deposited…deposited elsewhere. But ultimately, seeds don’t get to choose where they’re planted.

No seed gets to wake up in the morning and say, “Today, I’d like to land in that rich, fertile soil over there.”

Seeds don’t make themselves grow and good soil doesn’t simply happen.

Anyone who has ever planted a garden knows that good soil doesn’t simply appear. It has to be worked and turned over. Stones have to be picked out by hand. Weeds have to be pulled, and compost has to be mixed in. And sometimes, the field even has to lie fallow for a season to recover and rejuvenate—for microbes and worms to break down and decay and generate rich nutrients for the next season.

No matter how lifeless earth may look, everything important is happening beneath the surface.

Good soil has to be prepared, and I wonder if that’s the point that Jesus wants us to notice and pay attention to.

Not, “make sure you’re planted in good soil.”

But instead, “who is the one who prepared the soil in the first place?”

Friends, Jesus isn’t giving us yet another checklist. Instead, he’s teaching us to recognize the hidden work of God. Faith is learning to trust the work that God is doing before we can see the harvest.

Because if God is the one who is preparing the soil—if God is already at work beneath the surface of our lives—then eventually something good begins to grow.

The parable says that seed sown in good soil bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.

But who, exactly is this harvest for?

A stalk of wheat does not get to break bread.

An apple tree doesn’t get to eat its own apples, nor does a grapevine get to drink its own wine.

Fruit always exists for someone else. The whole purpose of the harvest is that it is gathered, shared, and given away. That’s where Paul’s argument has been leading all along. That’s what life in the Spirit looks like. Life is lived in the sharing.

Paul isn’t telling his readers that the Christian life can be reduced to private spirituality or personal self-improvement. The Spirit doesn’t simply make me a better version of myself.

No. The Spirit creates a people.

The Spirit creates a people who can finally become what the instruction had been pointing toward all along.

A people who forgive because they’ve first been forgiven.

A people who love because they’ve first been loved.

A people who reconcile because they’ve first been reconciled.

A people who share because they know life itself has first been shared with them.

Not because they’ve mastered another lesson or discovered the perfect system.

Not because they’ve finally become good enough, but because God has already begun the hidden work in each and every one of us.

And because God continues to do this hidden work in us, we find that our lives bear fruit to be shared beyond ourselves.

Fruits of love and of joy.

Peace and patience.

Kindness and goodness and faithfulness.

Fruits that feed not just the body but nourish the soul.

That’s the good news friends. God is already at work tilling and preparing the soil of our lives and we are therefore free to stop manufacturing life for ourselves. We are free to receive this growth that God provides. We are free to trust it.

And then, like every good harvest, we are free to share it with the world.

So may the one who began a good work be faithful to complete it in us.

The work continues. Amen.

Confessions

Romans 7:15-25a
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

While I was here for the parade yesterday, enjoying the humidity and getting to see many of you lovely people, I was asked a question that I think is an important one: what are your thoughts on confession? The question was less about confession in general, and more about the concept of the sacrament of confession as it exists in the Roman Catholic tradition—where you slip into a small booth, knock on the wall, and have a priest there behind the screen ready to hear about all the things you’ve done wrong since the last time you confessed. At least that’s how it happens in the movies and on TV. I’ve never been before. But I know that there are those in this community whose background is in the Catholic tradition. Is there anyone here who’s been to confession? Does it happen more or less like it does on TV? Confession is often dramatized and played up, especially in media. I’m a big fan of the British detective show “Father Brown,” which is about a Catholic priest in the post-World War Two English countryside who solves murder mysteries—as one does. Most of the confessions that he receives in this show are from people who have had affairs or from the murderers themselves. Of course, that always complicates things since Father Brown can’t break the seal of the confessional, so it’s still up to the killer to turn themselves in. Tricky stuff. 

In the real world, the concept of confession is one that makes many of us uneasy or even righteously indignant. Confession has long been used as a means of policing behavior, and is often employed as a weapon against queer and trans individuals, whose very existence is still considered sinful in many Christian traditions. Confession has also been used to inflict public shame and to coerce people into conforming to a particular way of being that is, often, rigid and demanding. During the Salem Witch Trials, men and women who were accused of witchcraft were pressured, by physical torture and by religious coercion, to make false confessions and to throw others under the bus with their confessions—especially unmarried women, unskilled brick- layers, and unpopular neighbors. Those who were accused were expected not only to confess, but also to repent and make a public statement of faith in weekly worship before being re-admitted fully to the fold. Today, and for centuries, the seal of the confessional, which prevents clergy from sharing publicly things that are said in confession, has been a barrier to those seeking justice for abuse by members of the clergy and members of congregations. In fact, New York is one of the states in the U.S. where clergy are still not listed as mandatory reporters of child abuse, though there is legislation in the state senate that would change this.

Confession is, like so many parts of various Christian traditions, a complicated thing. It has been weaponized, used as an instrument of hate, and made into a tool of shame and conformity. It has been used as a shield for those who seek to avoid accountability, both from the church and from other institutions. It has become the epitome of the guilt and repression that has become, in the popular conscience, the foundation of the Christian faith. I can acknowledge all of this, and still, you might notice, we continue to share in a prayer of confession week after week. This is because I believe that confession, even if it’s just corporate confession, can be a tool of liberation. When used appropriately, confession can be a means of looking honestly at the harm we have caused, the times when we have not done good, and laying down the burdens that we bear. It is a means of seeing our lives not as perfectly as we might like to present them, but as messy and flawed and complex. Confession can, and should be, about finding humility to know that we are not perfect and that we make mistakes—sometimes a lot of mistakes—but that no matter how many mistakes we make, God’s mercy is bigger than all of it. Confession is an admission that we are not yet perfect, that we hurt and cause hurt, and that we trust that God will not leave us behind in spite of it all. Above all, though, confession is—or must be—not a means of avoiding accountability, but of embracing it.

In the Roman Catholic tradition, confession isn’t simply saying out loud all the things that you did wrong. In fact, the sacrament that we call “confession” is actually the sacrament of reconciliation. Confession is only one part. What follows is a tangible response to the harm that we have caused. Reconciliation is about admitting where we fall short, and readjusting how we live our lives so that we’re less likely to cause the same harm again. When this church adopted our reconciling statement back in 2012, the statement that we typically call a “welcome statement” and that we think of as our way of saying that all are welcome here, that statement included a confession. Not the most direct confession, but it acknowledges that the church has caused pain by its exclusion and discrimination. With that confession, though, comes a commitment to turning away from that tradition of harm, and working with those who have known the pain of that exclusion and discrimination. It is a commitment to living differently, and moving onward towards being made perfect in love. And we still have a long way to go. And that’s not to say that we haven’t made the same mistakes, nor is it to say that we definitely won’t make the same mistakes again. It is a commitment to doing the work, though, and to working each day to carry that work forward. Confession, then, is a part of reminding us that we are not superior or exceptional or special, simply because we are privileged in certain ways. It is a reminder of our constant need for God’s grace, and our need to listen to those who are hurt by us, so that we might work towards reconciliation and true justice.

You may have heard that yesterday was the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. While there are always festivities and ways in which we celebrate this historic holiday, there were many who admitted to me yesterday that they didn’t feel much like celebrating. I didn’t either, but if I’m being honest the 4th of July isn’t a holiday that I tend to go all out for. Part of this less-than-joyful feeling, I believe, comes from the weightiness that its celebration brings for many. How can we celebrate this day when so much of what we see about America is the corruption of its government? How can we celebrate when there are masked individuals kidnapping neighbors in the streets? How can we celebrate when the Supreme Court hands down rulings that limit how our children live into who God has created them to be, and that expand the ability of states to discriminate against transgender athletes? How can we celebrate when migrants are stripped of what little protections they might have had? How can we celebrate knowing that our tax dollars continue to fund endless wars and unrestrained bloodshed? How can we celebrate knowing that none of this is new, but that it has come back to us in cycles of extremism again and again? I can’t speak for you, but the cheeseburger and sparklers I enjoyed yesterday didn’t really cut it. 

Confession, it is said, is good for the soul. It can help us to truly see the burdens that we carry, the burdens that we place on others, and the ways in which our souls and bodies need to heal. Confession, though, the acknowledgement of the ways in which we, as individuals and as a collective, have fallen short, is not the end. What comes next is a turning towards the restoration of wholeness. What comes next is the work of finding liberation and justice for all the world, not merely for the 340 million we call “American.” What comes next is living into the call that Christ places on each of us to turn away from the burden of all the harm we have done and all the ways in which we have failed to live into the liberating love of God’s kin-dom. May we hear this call, to lay down the burdens of sin and oppression that we carry—as individuals and as a people. May we hear this call, to open wide our embrace to the “huddled masses, yearning to breathe free,” those who have felt the weight of the burdens that we have placed on their backs. May we hear this call, and turn towards the work of true justice and reconciliation. May it begin with looking honestly at where we are and where we have been. Only then may we look towards the future where that bright star is cast. Amen.

Human Limitations

Romans 6:12-23

Matthew 10:40-42

Many of you might remember Jane Leonard, who passed away last Fall. She was a member here for a number of years, active in Adult Forum. The first interaction I had with Jane was during the week following my first Sunday here a year ago. She had just fallen and hadn’t been able to make it to my first worship service here. So she sent me an email to welcome me and let me know why she wasn’t in worship that Sunday. She was in worship the following Sunday, and during the week following, I received another email. In this one, she described a friend that she had who was getting older and was needing more and more help, and talked about this friend’s struggle to accept help. Mind you, Jane was 90 when she was telling me about this “older friend” who wouldn’t let Jane help her. She both acknowledged how frustrating it is to offer help to someone who refuses to accept it out of pride, and asked for advice about how she as an individual might accept offers of help from others. Her question was specifically tied to the story of the Good Samaritan, and was, “how can we learn to receive the blessings of the Good Samaritan?” I would argue that the man in that story who received the blessing from the Samaritan didn’t have much choice in the matter. But I also think that we can pose this question more broadly: “How can we learn to receive gifts, blessings, and help from others?”

Accepting the offer of help, after all, can be embarrassing. It communicates that we don’t have the skills or the physical ability to do something or know something. I’ll always remember the trauma of being placed in advanced math when I was in third grade. I was there for months, struggling to keep up and, eventually, falling so far behind that there was no hope of getting back on track. I never once asked for extra help, and got more and more overwhelmed until one day I had a breakdown in the middle of class and my teacher finally knew just how little I was actually learning. Then I got put back in the regular math class, which was more fun anyway, since that’s where all my friends were. Unfortunately, that experience wasn’t enough for me to deconstruct the feelings and culture that made me think it was better to suffer in silence than admit that I didn’t know what I was doing. And that had to be a lesson I received over and over and over again, and that I am still working on internalizing. But I know that it’s one we all struggle with, because our culture is, generally, not one of collaboration but of rugged individualism. When we’re young, we may struggle to ask for help from overbearing parents, and when we’re old we may struggle to ask for help from over (or under) bearing children. And when we’re somewhere in the middle, parents still might be overbearing, but there’s also sort of an expectation that, at some point, you figure your stuff out and don’t need to ask for help. 

It’s this same mentality that is working to dismantle Social Security, that refuses to improve healthcare, and that continues to limit access to SNAP benefits and other forms of social welfare. It’s this same mentality that delights when we ignore the people asking for a dollar on the exit ramp off 490, that rejoices when we ignore the struggles of our neighbors near and far. Because we’re not meant to ask for help. So, why should anyone else get to ask? What do we owe them? What have they done for us? The world would have us ask “who is worthy?” But the gospel doesn’t bother with such a question. It’s not about who is worthy, but about who has need. And at the core of this question is an acknowledgement that we all have need. None of us goes through our entire life completely, one hundred percent self-sufficiently. There may be seasons when we need more help, and some when we don’t need quite as much. But there is not a single person, nor sibling in all of Creation, who can pass an entire lifetime without needing to lean on someone, or something, else. Indeed, the gospel assumes that we all will need help at some point, and quotes Christ as saying that when we help those in need—the hungry, the naked, the unhoused, the sick, the incarcerated—we are helping Christ. That’s 15 chapters down the road from today’s gospel. Today’s gospel, though, puts Christ on those who are seeking welcome, who are seeking cool water. Christ, therefore, is not only in the need, but in the asking. Suddenly, it becomes Christ-like to ask for help, to have the courage and the humility to say “I need help,” or “I’m thirsty,” and ask for something to drink.

To acknowledge our need for help, from one another and from God, is to not only do as Christ commanded, but to do as Christ does. Not to presume that our places of privilege and comfort rid us of any need to seek out help, but to find our faith in the cycles of dependence and that luminous web that ties all of us together. Not to see ourselves only as benefactors, but as those who both give and receive to those in this community and beyond, until the lines of giving and receiving are blurred. To act only as though we have everything is to reject the notion that Christ is still waiting outside to be welcomed, and to pull us out into the world. It is to willfully turn away from the fact that we have need, and that we need to accept help, accept welcome, accept cool water from the places where we go. It is to write off the voices of those younger than us, who often have really important things for us to hear. It is to write off the voices of the women called to preach, the queer people we seek to reconcile with, and the immigrants who, before long, will be detained right in downtown Rochester. Our salvation, our liberation, our wholeness, is tied up in these lives, in their welcome and in the quenching of their thirst. How will we meet the Christ in them? How will they reveal Christ to us? In the humility to lay down our privilege, to cast off the facade of self-sufficience, and to ask what we can do. This is the sharing of gifts and of help to which we are called. What are we going to do about it? How will we respond to such evil, injustice, and oppression?

I want to close with a line from the Gospel According to Ted Lasso. You may have heard of it. It’s a show about an American football coach who gets hired by an English Premier League team to coach soccer. Streaming now on Apple TV. In one episode, one of the characters is asking for advice, and wondering if people are capable of change. In response to this line of questioning, another character posits that “Human beings are never going to be perfect. The best we can do is keep asking for help, and accepting it when you can. And if you keep on doing that, you'll always be moving towards better.” As people who seek to live out our shared faith and sense of call in the Methodist Movement, we are called to move onward towards perfection, towards being made perfect in love. That doesn’t mean we never make mistakes. It certainly doesn’t mean we know everything or can do everything all on our own. It does mean that in everything we do, our instinct is always to love. And loving, both others and ourselves, means sharing of what we have, and accepting when others share of what they have, too. We are called to live communal lives. By stepping foot into this community, we are proclaiming that we are no longer solely our own, that we don’t have all the answers, that we can’t move through this world on our own. That’s not a deficiency, it’s the Church. May we live out this calling, to depend fully on one another, fully on God, and fully on our siblings throughout Creation, until we cast off all delusions that any of us doesn’t need the others. Amen.

Sent Out in Jesus’ Name

Matthew 9:35-10:23

This is my first Celebration Sunday, and I would definitely say that it has lived up to the hype. Such a grand celebration of all the ministry that goes on here at Fairport United Methodist Church has been a wonderful way for me, personally, to look back on my first year here in this community.  In looking back, we can ask ourselves a few important questions. The first of these is: What have we done? Since I arrived here, I have witnessed this as a place where a lot goes on. From ministries of education for all ages, to ministries of music for the same. From the Sunday Dinner ministry, which has prepared hundreds of meals in the past year, to the Beyond These Walls shelter visits, that have taken humanity and supplies to some of the most desperate places in our city. This is a community that cares about sharing from what it has, that sees needs and seeks to find ways to bring healing and hope to a broken and hurting world. We have fed each other and those outside of these four walls. We have worshiped together, praising God and restoring our souls in the grace of shared company. This is a place where a lot happens, and we are a people who are called to much work. Thanks be to God for those laborers who have answered the call, and who work to build the kin-dom here in this place.

The second question is like it: Who have we helped? We have helped both those who sit in the pews beside us, and those who have never stepped foot in this building. Through blessing bags and Trick-or-Treating for UNICEF, through grocery store gift cards and donations made through our Outreach 50/50 fund, through Bike Trip and Joful noise, we have made an impact near and far, helping those in our neighborhood and around the world. We have helped our children to learn about the stories and practices that bind us together in loving community, and our children have helped us to see new ways of thinking about God and what it means to live in community. We have helped one another connect to God, find the divine Spirit in the day-to-day and the extraordinary, in the singing and ringing and in the silence. In simple acts of hospitality for the grieving and extravagant celebrations whenever there is something to celebrate. We have helped one another, we have helped those in our communities, and we have helped those whose faces we have not seen. Thanks be to God for a plentiful harvest, that calls us unceasingly into the world, to be the hands and feet of Christ.

The third question might take a bit of thinking: How have we been helped? This question ought to have us consider the ways in which our ministry has been reciprocal. When we minister to one another—in the small acts of sending cards and visiting those who can’t come to us, in the flamboyance of marching in the pride parade—what happens to our souls? Have others helped us to know, more deeply, the love of God? Have others shown us grace that passes beyond all human comprehension? Have we been shown generosity in what those in this community and those outside this community have given to us? Have we experienced and appreciated the generosity of our God, from whom all these blessings flow? Of course we have! The real question is, have we offered our thanksgiving to God and to our neighbors, for moving with us on this journey, providing for us in abundance, and remaining by our side? Perhaps we could do just that a bit more. Thanks be to God, for all those who have journeyed with us, corrected us gently, and shown us what it means to be true disciples who walk in the way that leads to life.

But the harvest of love and justice is still plentiful. There is much for us to learn, there are more ways for us to continue to grow in our love of God and one another. While we celebrate all the labors of this past year, may we still hear that call, to labor and build the kin-dom of God, here and now. May we still be called to do the work of clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, giving water to the thirsty, housing the unhoused. May we still be called to the work of visiting the sick and those in prison. May we still be called to the work of standing with those who have been pushed to the edges of society, those who have been overlooked and ignored, those who no respectable person would go near. May we still be called to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. How will that look in the coming year? Who will we minister with? There is work to be done, right here in our village, in our city, in our county. There are fellow laborers, both near and far, for us to work beside. Perhaps there are people in the pews today that you don’t know very well, and with whom you might be called to minister. We will try new things. We will fail. And again and again, we will minister with new people, giving and receiving, until we hold all things in common. Thanks be to God, that this call still rests on our lives, that there are those still called to labor, even when the harvest seems to wither. 

Siblings in Christ, we have much to celebrate, much to be grateful for. I’m grateful that I get to serve in a community where the Spirit is very much at work—and where the work of the Spirit is evident in many ways. But the work is not finished. Evil, injustice, and oppression, in all the forms they present themselves, still plague our world. We have much work to do in dismantling ways of thinking that separate us from our neighbors. We are still being called and sent, by the Christ who sees in us not only what we have been, but who we can be. We are being called and sent, by the One who is not done with the world, but who is constantly creating and re-creating. We are being called and sent, in the name of Christ who sends us to do the work that Christ did before us. May we continue to heed that call, together as the Body of Christ, as we are sent out to build the kin-dom—this day and all days. May it be so. Amen.