Excerpts from past Sermons
from Janet and Jerry Duggins

From  "Who Moved My Stone?" based on John 20:1-18

~ Rev. Jerry Duggins ~   

Easter ~  March 23, 2008

The stone, still in place over the tomb, contradicts Easter; limits us to coping with life and managing death and loss. There is some comfort in this. We all have our stones over our own tombs. In so many ways we are bent on death, governed by death, live in fear of death and loss. We hold on to things that give us control, but not power, things that help us cope, but not excel, and things that give our lives structure but not vitality.

It is hard for us to believe that we live from life to life because we believe in the stone. There are days when we feel the crush of time, when we feel that it is in such short supply. It weighs on us: not enough hours in the day, too many things to do in life and not enough time to do them, too many meaningless things to do wasting our time, deadlines, missed opportunities. We try to manage our time, but often its weight is too heavy a burden. Loved ones die before we’re ready for it. We have regrets, wishing we’d made peace, but now it is too late. When one is moving toward death, even living each moment to its fullest (as even a dead Jesus encourages us to do) is not good enough to lift the stone of time from our shoulders. But if the stone is rolled away and Christ is alive, then we too move from life to life.

It is hard for us to believe that we live from life to life because we believe in the stone. We are taught to work hard for our living, that we must compete for resources and position, that good things come to the industrious. Loving one’s neighbor, acts of charity are okay once one has seen to oneself and one’s family. But help those who are worthy first. We make these distinctions because we believe in a world where resources and opportunities are scarce. But roll that stone away. See that Christ is alive and that God has created a world in which there is an abundance and it is possible to believe that we live from life to life and not cradle to grave.

God has moved the stone. This is what Easter is all about. Jesus is no longer in the tomb and we need not be either. We can look out and see a new world. Because Christ is alive, we can even step out of our tomb, out of that world pointed toward death into a world moving toward life, from life to life.

But it is hard for us, because we believe in the stone. We have grown comfortable with our stone in its proper place. We have learned to cope in a world headed toward death. We think that we have held in check the forces of violence and chaos. However tomb-like it may be, we have carved out our little space in life in which we feel protected and secure. The truth is that a person can live a very satisfying and comfortable and long life with the stone in place. But for all that it remains a life moving toward death, and that is not the life God intends for us.

Christ is alive, the stone has been rolled away. As unsettling as this may be (and it was for Mary at first), we need to hear Christ call our name, we need to realize that the body has not been stolen, but he is alive and calls us to new life. It is not a safe life, not a life of just getting by, not a life lived by the usual rules of self-preservation. It is a life open to freedom, a life that encourages us to learn love, to practice reconciliation, to believe in resurrection. Christ is alive and invites us on the journey from life to life. Amen.


From  "Jesus and Nicodemus"  based on John 3:1-7

~  Rev. Janet Robertson Duggins  ~  February 17, 2008

This is a challenging passage, from what is probably the most challenging of the gospels.  John’s is a highly theological gospel -  lots of abstract concepts, a great deal of symbolism, and a sense of touching on mysteries that are just a little bit beyond our grasp.  John also makes a lot of contrasts to describe the kind of faith tensions which he perceives we human beings have to struggle with:  Light and darkness.  Spirit and flesh.  Heaven and earth.  Life and death.    That may seem a bit dramatic to us.  One commentator says that John’s gospel is all primary colors; “there are no pastels or shadings.”   There is no half-way.  When we read this book, we have to understand that what it’s inviting us to is (in the words of that same scholar) “a profound belief in Jesus as the unique revealer of God.”  
 
This is not to say that John thinks it’s easy to come to that kind of life-altering faith.
 
This conversation between Nicodemus and Jesus is typical of the gospel of John. 
 
John likes to present the theological ideas he wants to put across in the form of a dialogue between Jesus and someone who poses questions but hears Jesus’ answers without understanding what Jesus means.
 
The misunderstanding in this conversation centers around Jesus’ statement that “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”   Or “born again,” as it is sometimes translated.    And interestingly, that’s the part of this conversation we usually have the most trouble with, too.
 
The confusion is deliberately introduced by the choice of word:  The Greek word ANOTHEN  means both “from above” and “again.”    So in verse 3 we have Jesus saying (probably) “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above” but Nicodemus focuses on the other meaning and wonders how someone can be born a second time.   It’s actually sort of a comical conversation, kind of along the lines of one we have in the car sometimes:  “Do I turn left here?”  “Right.”  “Right?” “No, left!” 
 
“Born from above”  or “born again” or “born again, from above”?   I have to think that the double meaning is intended, giving both the sense of rebirth into a new kind of life and  the acknowledgement that such a transformation can only come from God.  
 
I  wonder whether Nicodemus could really have found this so puzzling that he had to ask how it could be possible to go back into the womb and be physically born a second time.     The sense of the metaphor of rebirth isn’t that obscure.  But then, we have a hard time with the idea of “born again,” too, don’t we?
A lot of that has to do with what “born again” means to most people today.  We associate the expression with Christians who have had a certain kind of religious conversion experience, and insist that we all have to have it in order to call ourselves Christians.
  
 But that’s a recent interpretation of Christianity; it’s not John’s gospel.  Nothing that Jesus says to Nicodemus defines a particular kind of one-time religious experience as a required of those who want to follow him.  There’s certainly nothing in this passage to suggest that a certain kind of prayer is the required password to salvation, as some people would have it.
 

 That’s not to say that kind of experience isn’t a doorway into the Christian life for many.  Sometimes the stereotypical “born again” experience is looked upon as a shallow or temporary emotional state but we probably ought to maintain a more open mind about the ways God’s Spirit might work.  I once knew someone who was converted to faith in Christ through an old-fashioned printed tract about how to be “saved”; he went on to become a serious and thoughtful Christian, with a passionate commitment to peace and social justice.  My own father became a Christian at a revival service; his faith commitment lasted until the end of his life and included not only faithful participation in worship but tithing.

 Others experience the Spirit’s work of transformation in other ways.   For some of us it may be more of a process than an event.   Some may suddenly or gradually awaken to the realization that God’s Spirit is sustaining them.   Some emerge from a crisis or a dark time to a sense that God has given them new life and purpose.   Others are transformed by an experience of forgiveness, or by something that opens their eyes to see the world in a new way.    For some, new life in Christ comes in the form of a calling to some kind of work or mission.   Others may embrace it only after much hesitation or a long struggle to find themselves through other means.

 God’s Spirit, like the wind, moves where and how it will, Jesus says.  Not according to any expectations or plans we have.  So there is no reason to expect it should be the same for all of us.  But you can’t edit the underlying idea out of this conversation: the invitation of the gospel is to a new life, a different life than the life we would live apart from Christ.

 The point is that Christianity is not a self-help program.  It’s not meant to help us devise a few ways to improve our lives, but  to give us a whole new life.   It comes not through our efforts but through the work of God’s Spirit and within the community to which baptism joins us.


 

From "Hearing to Speech", based on John 4:5-42

~  Rev. Jerry Duggins  ~ February 24, 2008

So let's listen to this woman at the well. Let us take up a relationship with her, no, let us pretend to be her as Jesus approaches the well. Is it possible that there are at least elements in her story that touch our own lives? What do we hear in her pain that might help us give voice to our own questions?

Jesus approaches. Are we prepared for conversation with one so holy and righteous? He is a proper man, a man whose faith is orthodox, as far as we can tell from appearances. We know, like this woman, that we do not measure up to his standards. Perhaps we too, would distance ourselves with sarcasm and a touch of bitterness.

But he seems uninterested in exposing the weaknesses in our faith. He seems tired, thirsty. We are surprised when he makes an unorthodox request. It turns out, he needs something from us.

Listen to this woman. She is not ready to step out of the bounds of propriety to meet his need. She wants to stay inside the box of cultural convention. She wants to keep the wall that separates them intact.

Don't we do the same thing? How often do we cut the connection with “I’m not supposed to do that”? How often do we let the walls that divide us stand even as others from the other side invite us to tear them down.  North shall not share table with South. There are rules that govern how men and women relate, rules that separate rich and poor, conventions that keep various ethnic groups apart. Do you hear in this simple conversation the tensions that exist in our lives too?

So, though she would tell Jesus to get his own water, he knows her need. He knows her story, her pain. And he will reach across convention to quench her thirst. At first she misunderstands him. She thinks the living water is still just water to quench a natural thirst. Listen to her. Don't we do the same, mistaking the blessings of God as food for the body alone? Don't we concern ourselves with matters of mere existence, even when life, meaning and eternity are at stake. How often do we sit at meal together even with our own families and do nothing more than consume food, when we might have fed our spirits as well?

This woman is a survivor whether you regard the string of men in her story as tragic or sinful. She has found a way to live through many changes in her life. But she still lives a lie. She isn’t thriving, just existing. She comes to the well for water for her body, but her spirit is becoming dehydrated.   Again, I say, listen to her! Is that our story too? Is there a pain so heavy that we become numb to the rest of life? Are we thirsty for something more, for life in the spirit, for truth about ourselves, about God? The soul is not made to be empty. It isn’t made to be alone and isolated. There are no islands in the world of spirit, no walls to separate, no chasms to divide. There is no “my own little world” in God’s kingdom.

But perhaps you are not like this woman. Perhaps you have tasted of these waters that Jesus speaks about. Maybe your story is in the disciples, who when they return are astonished to find Jesus speaking to this woman. Some of us are followers of Christ already.  And yet, we are surprised to find Jesus crossing barriers, defying convention. We settle for a sample of the food that nourishes Jesus, unaware of the vast resources God makes available to feed our spirits. We think it sufficient to feed Jesus “bread alone.”

We serve food to the homeless at Ministry. We pack bags at Loaves and Fishes. We deliver lunch to the elderly. But to form a genuine connection with someone outside our circle, to touch the need within, to feel the pain of another, to really cross the boundary ...  frequently we find such a cross too heavy to bear. Listen to the disciples, who stand by as a whole village of outsiders hear the good news and respond to Jesus in faith.

What is the next step in our journey of faith? Do we hear in these stories something of our own? There is a truth waiting to be spoken in our lives. We can hear in these characters and in others in our lives a need, a thirst, a desire for connection. We can hear in their lives the call of Christ, the invitation of Jesus to drink from springs “gushing up to eternal life.”

But liberation, freedom, healing, whatever you want to call it comes when the hearing is put to speech. This woman spoke the truth she discovered to the people of her town and the disciples eventually learned to speak and invite others into this abundant life. The barriers are not crossed and the walls are not torn down just by listening. The truths we learn must be spoken. The water we come to drink must be shared. The food that nourishes our spirit must be given away. In the hearing we become aware of God’s goodness and grace and love, but only when we learn to speak the language do our lives begin to reflect that grace. In the speaking of the gospel, we claim freedom as our own.

 

 Return to Home Page
Return to Top