Preached at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla on October 6, 2024, World Communion Sunday. Based on Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12.
Many musicals and large orchestral works begin with an overture. This is more than just an opening piece. Instead, it is composed to familiarize the audience with all of the musical themes that they will encounter throughout the larger work.
Several books of the Bible have what is essentially an overture as well. Perhaps the Gospel of John. Perhaps the Gospel of Luke, with Mary singing the Magnificat and Zechariah singing the Benedictus. In these cases, the overture introduces not musical themes but theological themes that will recur throughout the book.
Today’s reading includes the opening of the Letter to the Hebrews. Now, that title is a total misnomer. It is certainly not a letter in the same way as Paul’s epistles, but more of a sermon transcript or a theological treatise. It was perhaps a circular letter that was passed around to many churches. And it was not addressed to the Hebrews in any real sense. Rather, it was addressed to Greek-speaking Christians, both Jews and Gentiles, who were familiar with both Greek and Jewish philosophical traditions. The readers were struggling to stay strong in their faith.
So to set the stage, the author wrote one long Greek sentence as an overture. In our English Bibles, the one long sentence becomes several sentences in the first four verses of the book. This opening statement lays out the key concepts that we will encounter throughout the book. First, that the story of Christ has been told to the Jews throughout history, but in bits and pieces that the author will try to assemble. Second, that Jesus came to give it to us straight, to proclaim the Truth. Next, that Jesus Christ was the perfect image of God, through whom all things came into being.
Let’s sit with that for a little while. In Genesis, God created humanity to bear God’s image here in the created world. In Psalm 8, we read that we were made just a little lower than the heavenly beings. So we are all made to reflect God’s image and glory. But we are an imperfect reflection. We all try to live up to our calling as God’s representatives here on earth, but we fall short of the glory of this calling. Only Jesus of Nazareth was the exact imprint of God’s very being. In a sense, this is why we say that Jesus was truly human and truly divine. Like all humans, he carried God’s image, but because he carried it perfectly, he was God, and because he was God, he was able to be fully human. This paradox is at the center of the Nicene Creed and is partially explored in Hebrews.
Returning to the opening, we see the next key characteristic of Jesus Christ. When he had ascended in glory, he sat down at the right hand of God to exercise dominion over all things. That sounds familiar, too, from the Nicene and Apostles Creeds. Christ came to show us who God truly is and to explain the Truth directly, to clarify the piecemeal revelation that was made throughout Israel’s history, and then he ascended to rule God’s kingdom.
Why was Jesus born? That’s a deep question that a lot of people have tried to answer. The author of Hebrews lays out part of his argument in the second half of our reading today. Jesus came so that through him, God could truly experience suffering and death. There are things you can learn by watching someone else do them, but then there are things that you can only learn through firsthand experience. God Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, knew all things from the beginning of time. All things came into being through Christ. And yet, there was one thing that God could not know directly: death. As an infinite being, as being-ness itself, God could not know what it meant to come to an end. And so, Christ was incarnated as Jesus of Nazareth, who like us was a little lower than a heavenly being for a little while, and who suffered and died. Now God knows firsthand what it means to be truly human, to live and to love, to suffer and to die.
That internal knowledge was part of Christ’s plan to reconcile all things to God. He was the pioneer of our salvation—the firstborn from the dead, who paved the way for the rest of us to suffer, die, and be raised to glory with him. As the firstborn through whom all things were created, all things were placed under his reign. Christ reigns not just over the ancient Judeans nor their descendants. Christ reigns not just over Presbyterians or Americans. In fact, Christ does not just reign over humanity. But Christ reigns over all things. All people, all the birds of the sky and the beasts of the field and the fish in the sea. The sun and the moon and the stars at night. Everything. Everything is a part of Christ’s dominion, the kingdom of God.
Yet Jesus of Nazareth lived only a short time, did not achieve a whole lot of worldly power, and then died and ascended to heaven. Now what? Well, Christ continues to reign in the world through us. We are tasked to rule in his place. Jesus initiated the reconciliation of the world to God. We are tasked with continuing that work.
There are two terms I’d like you to consider that describe who we are. First, we are Christ’s ambassadors to the world. To those who do not know Christ, we are expected to represent Christ faithfully and seek a relationship that will connect them to Christ’s kingdom through us. But second, we are Christ’s regents. A regent is someone who rules in place of the king because of the king’s absence. Christ is not truly absent, but is not visible to those who aren’t looking for him. And so, we are tasked with carrying out his reconciling work and ruling as he would rule—not to “lord it over” our siblings that God also loves, but to serve them and to love them.
So what would Jesus do? Well, what did Jesus do? Jesus demonstrated what God’s reign is like. It is a total self-emptying. It is putting one’s whole self at God’s service. As Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane, “Let this cup pass from me, yet not my will but your will be done.” We may pray that things go according to our desires, but in the end, we are called to give our whole selves to God no matter what God asks of us.
I have talked on other occasions about spiritual practices. Things like prayer, reading scripture, fasting, and acts of service and hospitality. Spiritual practices enable us to regularly turn towards God and towards becoming who God wants us to be, both as individuals and as a part of the body of Christ. Practices need to be performed regularly in order to form us. And like learning an instrument or a sport, you need to start small but be persistent in order to allow God to form you through the practices.
Jesus demonstrated the ultimate form that we should strive for: giving our whole selves to God. All that we have and all that we are. Well, Jesus didn’t start his ministry on the cross, even though he was willing to go there. He started with smaller acts of kenosis or self-emptying and worked up to the ultimate gift of his death on the cross.
So, how can we start small and work up to giving our whole selves? By committing ourselves to the promises that many of us made at our baptism or our confirmation or when we joined this church: to support the church with our prayers, our presence, our gifts, and our service. Or sometimes stated as our time, talent, and treasure. There are some people who literally give their whole lives to God—priests, monks, nuns, and friars who have no possessions, no life partners, no jobs outside the church. The rest of us instead give some portion of our lives to God.
Before we moved to Rolla, I occasionally worshipped at a church in Mahomet, but not seriously. After we moved here, we committed to making worship a part of our lives. That was the first step. Then we started giving. I remember not knowing what “per capita” meant and trying to decide whether and how much to give towards it. Then Rhonda became a trustee and I joined the choir. Little by little, we gave more of ourselves to serve God’s kingdom.
A few years ago, I’m not sure when exactly, our giving reached the level of a tithe, a tenth. Now, what does that mean? Well, different people compute it differently. I base it on my giving to the church divided by my after-tax income. Some people divide by their pre-tax income. Others who are in a wealth-distribution phase of life, rather than earning a salary, need to think more about what it means to “lay up treasure” in God’s house. For the numerator, some people include what they give to other benevolent organizations, like the Mission or Russell House or whatever.
The exact math doesn’t matter so much as the basic principle: God is the ruler of all things, everything you have belongs to God, and so you should hold on to it loosely. As a spiritual practice, you should give of your time and money to God’s reconciling work in the world. Generosity is a way of training yourself to value relationships and God’s kingdom more than your own comfort.
The best time to make a change in how you give of your prayers, your presence, your gifts, and your service is when something changes. For example, my life revolves around the academic year. So, each fall, I put together a regular schedule for my week that incorporates my class schedule, regular meetings, and time to serve God, directly and indirectly. I reconsider my giving and see what I can afford. My life is changing a little bit more right now because both of my kids are out of college and “off the payroll,” plus my new position as your CRE. All of that factors in to my decision-making.
Another good time to consider how to change your approach to church is during a particular part of the church year. Perhaps Christmas when we celebrate the Incarnation, perhaps Lent, perhaps Easter or Pentecost. Or perhaps today.
Today is World Communion Sunday. This is not a liturgical holiday like the others I listed, but it is an important day in the church year. The first celebration of World Communion Sunday was in 1933 at Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh. Since then, it has spread to other denominations around the world. It’s a day when we remember that there is one body of Christ, which is the Church with a capital C. We may identify ourselves as Presbyterians, or Methodists, or Lutherans, or Baptists, or Episcopalians, or Moravians, or whatever. All these labels identify our differences. But what matters to God is our similarities: we are all children of God, united together into Christ’s body. We squabble over different understandings of God, but ultimately, none of us can be certain until we meet our Lord at the end of the age. I have many identities: son, husband, father, engineer, professor, church leader, and so on. But the one identity that matters most is beloved child of God.
Today, as we receive the gift of Christ’s body and blood in these simple gifts of bread and juice, we remember all those who celebrate in their own way in churches across our community and around the world. We remember all those who have gone before us and all those who will come after us. And we remember that Christ asks for our whole selves in service to God’s eternal kingdom, made manifest through Christ’s body, the Church, that strives to transform the world today and every day. Amen.
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