A guest sermon preached by Mark A. Schaefer at Foundry

United Methodist Church on Sunday, August 23, 2015.

Text: John 20:19-31

It was still the

first day of the week. That evening, while the disciples were behind closed

doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities, Jesus came and stood

among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them

his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with

joy. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I

am sending you.” Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.

If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them,

they aren’t forgiven.”   Thomas, the one

called Didymus, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came.

The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”

But he replied, “Unless I see the

nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put

my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”

After eight days his disciples were

again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked,

Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said

to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side.

No more disbelief. Believe!”

Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord

and my God!”

Jesus replied, “Do you believe

because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.”

Then Jesus did many other miraculous

signs in his disciples’ presence, signs that aren’t recorded in this scroll.

But these things are written so that you will believe that Jesus is the Christ,

God’s Son, and that believing, you will have life in his name.

 

I.        BEGINNING

So, here we are in Washington,

D.C.—a city full of people who have come to make a name for themselves. Who

have come to change the world and through hard work and sheer determination,

seek to make a mark on history.

If you’re going to get a place in

history, be sure you get a good epithet to accompany your name.  Like “the Great”, if you can swing it.  King Alfred the Great—the only “the Great” in

all of English history—earned that distinction likely for his promotion of

Anglo-Saxon literature.  Pope Gregory the

Great earned that epithet for his guidance of the church into the post-Imperial

world and his presiding over the collection of the Gregorian Sacramentary and

Gregorian Chant.

You’ll want to aim high, of course,

and go for epithets like “the Conqueror” or “the Magnificent” or “the

Powerful”. And if they called you “the Fair” or “the Just” or “the Merciful”

that wouldn’t be bad either.

Of course there are other epithets

you could earn like “Pepin the Short”, “Charles the Bald”, or “John the

Theologian.” Those are mostly harmless. But definitely try to avoid ones like

“the Accursed”, “the Impaler,” or “the Apostate.” You wouldn’t want to go

through life with an epithet like that hanging over you.

Which is why I always feel so bad for

poor Thomas.  Thomas the Doubter. Doubting Thomas. That’s a rough nickname

to live down, especially in church, right?

II.     DOUBTING THOMAS

Here it is, still on the first day

of the week, still on that first Easter Sunday. 

The disciples are all huddled together and afraid and Jesus appears

among them.  He breathes the Holy Spirit

on them and tells everyone “If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if

you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.” Well, he tells everyone but

Tho

A sermon preached by Executive Pastor Rev. Dawn M. Hand at Foundry UMC on Sunday, August 16, 2015.

Meditations led by Pastor Dawn M. Hand and Pastor Al Hammer at Foundry United Methodist Church on Sunday, August 9, 2015 with favorite hymns performed by Foundry's Choir as selected by the congregation.

A homily preached by Rev.

Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC August 2, 2015, the tenth Sunday after Pentecost.

Texts:  Isaiah 58:1-12, Matthew 5:13-20                                           

Today’s Gospel comes from Jesus’

Sermon on the Mount and consists of a fairly familiar set of teachings.  Not wanting to make assumptions based on this

familiarity, I hit the books to try to discover what Jesus, as a Jew who lived

when and where he did, might have been referring to when he spoke of salt and

light…  And in my research, I came across

a wide array of explanations and references to salt in the Jewish

tradition.  My personal favorite is

described as “salting the baby.” 

According to one scholar, salt was used both by Hebrew women and others

in nearby cultures to repel the presence of evil—sort of like using garlic to

keep the vampires away.  So when babies

were born, they were “salted” as a form of protection.  Being fairly skeptical about whether this

explanation had anything to do with what Jesus is teaching in Matthew 5, I

decided to ask a Rabbi friend if he could shed any light on how Jesus, as a

Rabbi of the time, might have been referencing salt.  What I was given is a rabbinic commentary on

this passage that confirmed what I was beginning to deduce:  during the period when Jesus lived, salt was

used to preserve and cure food, making salt absolutely essential for the

well-being—even the survival—of the world and its people.[i]  By referring to his disciples—to us—as the

“salt of the earth” Jesus is saying that our lives are essential to the

world.  Jesus teaches that his disciples

are the element in the world that keeps the world wholesome; the disciples help

preserve what sustains life—the beautiful, good, and true things of the

world. 

 

What about light?  What might Jesus be talking about when he

tells his listeners that they are the light of the world?  The prophetic tradition, especially Isaiah,

calls God’s people to be “a light to the nations.” (Isaiah 42:6, 49:6, 60:3)  In today’s passage Isaiah gives some

instruction about what that means.  To be

light in the world, according to Isaiah, is to be merciful to folks who are

suffering, to be generous with what we have in support of those who don’t have

enough, to do whatever we can to set people free from the things that keep them

from really living, to try to do the right thing in difficult situations at

work and at home, to keep good priorities, to be present and supportive of our

families, to allow ourselves to be inconvenienced for the sake of others’ needs,

to stand up for those who are hurt or weak, and to choose to speak words that

build up other people instead of words that tear them down. (Isaiah

58:6-7,9)  When Jesus says, “You are the

light of the world,” he is saying that we, his disciples, are those who live in

the world in these ways…we are those who shine light into the world.

 

The teachings of the Hebrew

Bible speak of God’s Word as light—“thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light

unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105)  My Rabbi

friend shared with me that Rabbinic tradition teaches that the Torah, the

Hebrew Bible (Jesus’s Bible), is also compared to salt,[ii]

as that which preserves what is necessary for life to thrive and be

sustained.  Torah is salt and light.  The disciples of Jesus are salt and light.  I believe it is this connection that helps us

understand why Jesus goes on to talk about fulfilling the law and the

prophets.  The disciples of Jesus are

A guest sermon preached by Dr. Peter S. Hawkins at Foundry UMC on July 26,

2015.

 

In

a letter written from a Nazi prison, dated roughly a year before his death in

April 1945, pastor-theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer asked a friend, “Who is Jesus

Christ for us today?” Posed by someone else, or even by Bonhoeffer under

different circumstances, such a question might seem merely rhetorical, one that

had an answer ready-made and already known 

-- like the worn-smooth responses in a catechism. Worse yet, the

question might even seem like a visiting preacher’s sermon title.

 

But

the fact that Bonhoeffer asked what he did from prison, and in the face of certain

death, means that there was nothing merely “rhetorical” about it. Let’s pretend

for a moment that he’s asking it of us, on a day when Foundry Church is

welcoming new members. How might we answer him? Surely it would not be with

church-speak or with anything second-hand. The traditional formulations of the ancient

creeds he already knew; they wouldn’t speak to his present need, whatever their

truth; nor would the controversies of modern theology that he knew all too well,

with their inevitable spinning of intellectual wheels.  No, when Bonhoeffer wrote his letter and posed

his question, he was in crisis. Any minute there would be the knock on his cell

door, the transport to the concentration camp at Buchenwald and, finally, the walk

to the gallows at Flossenbürg.

He knew his end was near; therefore he needed an answer, and needed it now. “Who is Jesus Christ for us today?”

 

Roughly

two thousand years earlier, John the Baptist posed more or less the same

question to Jesus’ followers; like Bonhoeffer, he also did so from prison.  He wanted them to ask the Rabbi, “Are you the

one who is to come or are we to wait for another?” (Matt. 11:3). In this case,

the questioner was no scholarly pastor-theologian but rather a fire-and-brimstone

preacher impatient for Israel’s ancient prophecy to be fulfilled, for a

Deliverer who would enlighten the “land of deep darkness” in which he and his

people lived. In Herod’s jail and under sentence of death, John embodied

centuries of messianic expectation and with it, centuries of impatience: “How

long, O Lord, how long?” Stuck behind bars, however, he had to send other

people running. There was no time to waste. He needed to know if today was the

day -- if Jesus was the one.

 

If

ever there were an occasion for a direct Yes, this would have been it. But instead

of answering straight on, Jesus points away from himself and toward the world

he and John share, a world in which the blind have come to see, the deaf to hear,

the lame to walk, the dead to live. Rather than say who he is, in other words, he

points instead to what has happened because of him.

 

Is

this a sly way of laying claim to messianic identity without claiming it

outright? Probably. But his turning away from himself to others also suggests something

else. If you want to know who Jesus is you must first see and hear and feel the

broken world around you, and then recognize him in the midst of that world’s

healing. Who is Jesus Christ for us today? He is the restoration of sight, of

hearing, of mobility, of life. There is simply no proper noun that will sum him

up: he is all verbs.

 

But

maybe he is also the question itself, the one that keeps on being posed, and for

which no answer is finally adequate. Why else, after all, would each of the

synoptic gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke – place at their center the same moment

when Jesus asks his d

Guest sermon preached

at Foundry UMC Sunday, July 19, 2015 by guest preacher Rev. Dr. Alton B.

Pollard III,

Dean and Professor of Religion and Culture at Howard University School of

Divinity.

Scripture:  1 Peter 3:15 -  “Always be ready to give an

account … of the hope that lies within you.”

“In spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a

dream.”

Dr. Martin Luther King. Jr.

“God says to you, ‘I have a dream. 

Please help me to realize it.’”                             - Archbishop Desmond Tutu

 

I am honored to bring

you greetings from Howard University School of Divinity where it is my

privilege to serve as dean.  Foundry UMC

and Pastor Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli, it is good to be with you this

morning.  I was humbled and surprised by

the invitation to serve as an “Outstanding Preacher” for your “Summer in the

City Series.” I find strength for my journey in your uncommon dedication to

building beloved community in this your bicentennial year.

My wife Jessica and I moved to Washington, DC, eight years ago.  We quickly learned that the District of

Columbia is really the Districts of Columbia, a city administratively divided

into four quadrants and filled with demographic fault lines as well, where

urban development has long been a means to human displacement and power and

privilege, dominance and division, inequity and disparity, systemic and

strategic neglect, amid the scandal and controversy of federal taxation without

representation are the order of the day.

Renting a house in the city, Jessica and I witnessed the changing landscape,

what many call progress: the uprooting of established homeowners and renters,

many of whom were Black and elderly, and the arrival of earnest young people,

most of whom were white, and ready to take their place.  The many open houses we attended – all at

prices beyond our means – reflected the neighborhood “renaissance” and

population shift.

The history of DC’s urban makeover dates back to the late nineties, as a once

vibrant center city vacated and boarded up, was once again made ready for

business.  For the first time in generations,

an infusion of development dollars poured into the District.  Traditional family dwellings were converted

to luxury apartments and condo units. 

Abandoned Victorian houses were renovated and Brownstones restored.  The construction of new houses grew commonplace.  Entire city blocks gave way to

microenterprise. Growth and expansion was everywhere – almost. Black

Washingtonians were largely excluded from the preferred lending practices and

opportunities now widespread.

In July 2011, Chocolate City unofficially became Caramel City per the U.S.

census and the New York Times:

This city, the country’s first to have an African-American

majority and one of its earliest experiments in black self-government, is

passing a milestone. Washington’s black population slipped below 50 percent

this year, possibly in February, about 51 years after it gained a majority.

There is a common and self-congratulatory refrain that the

United States is a post-racial society.  

The election of a two-term Black president and the popularity of the

first family, on most days, are pointed to as evidence that we have

overcome.  Yet events of late from

Florida (Trayvon Martin), New York (Eric Garner), and Ferguson (Michael Brown)

to Baltimore (Freddie Gray) Houston (Sandra Bland) and Charleston (the Emanuel

Nine) serve as stark reminders of what we already know.  In communities and munici

A sermon preached by Bishop Thomas Bickerton as part of Foundry UMC's Outstanding Preacher Series on Sunday, July 12, 2015.

I.                  When

I was a boy I was a little, short fat kid. 

What that often times meant was that my aspirations did not match up

very well with my reality.  My aspiration

was to be a great athlete.  My reality

was far different from that.

 

II.               

Some

of the most humiliating experiences I had in relationship to my reality not

being compatible with my aspiration had to do with my greatest love in all of

sports, baseball.

 

In

fifth grade, I was old enough to play what we called back then “Bronco

League.”  On the day of the big draft I

found myself at East End playground with my buddies.  The draft started with coaches looking over

the stands and selecting players that they either knew or looked the part.  Mike, then Steve, then Phil, then Joe were

all selected.  Near the end of the draft

I still sat on the bench.  Finally, at

the end of the draft, each coach could pick two more players.  The coach nonchalantly looked into the stands

and said, “I’ll take him and him,” and walked away with his other prized

players.  I was the next to the last

person picked in the draft.

 

I

did not realize at the time that I had been drafted onto the best team in the

league.  The rules were quite different

then.  There were no rules about having a

guaranteed place on a team or a requirement that every player had to play a

certain amount of innings. If you didn’t make it, you were cut.  And if you didn’t cut it, you wouldn’t play.

 

I

was the last player who made the team. 

For two years I sat on the bench inning after inning after inning.  In two years I had only one at bat.  I walked and was later thrown out.  At the awards ceremony celebrating our season

ending victory, I was called forward to receive my trophy.  When the coach handed it to me, someone

shouted from the crowd, “Why is he getting

one, he didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

 

I

sat on the bench.  I was never asked to

play.  The perception was that because I

was a little, short, fat kid I couldn’t play. 

I didn’t look the part of the accepted norm.  I was, for two seasons, just him, the one who

was picked because someone had to be.  I

didn’t look the part so I never got to play the game.

 

III.            

What

a sad and depressing way to begin a sermon on this glorious Lord’s day.  Yet, my childhood experience is somewhat

reminiscent of the manner in which life unfolds even in this second decade of

the 21st century.

 

We

live in what is a very judgmental environment. 

People are so often and so easily placed into categories, judged for

their behaviors, and criticized for their decisions.  It’s a “my way or the highway” existence in

many ways.  Either you agree with me or

you are wrong, and if we can’t find a way to agree I reserve the right to just

take my marbles and go home.

 

We

are put into preconceived boxes:

·        

I

don’t like the way you look

·        

I

don’t care for the way you act.

·        

I

don’t approve of your choices.

·        

And

if I have to, I’ll pick um, “her and him” and be done with it.

 

IV.            

What

a sad and depressing way to begin a sermon. 

But lest you get the feeling that the story ends here, along comes this

passage of scripture from Ephesians.  In

the

A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Javier Viera as part of Foundry UMC's Outstanding Preacher Series on Sunday, July 5, 2015, the sixth Sunday after Pentecost.

Text: Ezekiel 2.1-5; Mark 6.1-13

As

a nation, we’ve had a roller coaster last few weeks.  In the very recent past we’ve grappled with

the horrific and lingering effects of our nation’s deep-seeded and unresolved

racism, and have been challenged by the powerful witness of a deep-seeded

Christian faith that understands the spiritual freedom found in forgiveness;

we’ve been called to action in a letter from Pope Francis on the ecological

crisis we face on a global scale, and particularly because the impact this

crisis will be most heavily borne by the world’s poor; we celebrated landmark

decisions that protected health-care coverage for millions of Americans, extended

housing protections for thousands of poor or low wage earners, and secured the

right of our LGBT sisters and brothers to legally marry.  Yet, we’re soon reminded of the intractable

problems of income inequality in the richness nation on earth, the sin of mass

incarceration that has come to symbolize how this nation systematically

approaches its black and Latino young men, to name but a few.  It’s been a roller coaster few weeks.

 

Yet,

as I name these challenges I have to admit feeling a sense of hopefulness and

excitement as a person of faith.  I

haven’t felt this hopeful and excited about the Church’s witness since the

innocent and naïve years of my youth.  At

the forefront of all these challenges facing our nation are people of faith of

all persuasions—Catholic, Orthodox, mainline Protestant, evangelical and

Pentecostal.  From where I sit and the

people with whom I speak, I have a growing sense that in spite of all the

dreary reports and studies documenting the precipitous decline of religious

life and identification in America, we’re actually on the cusp of renewal and

reimagining.  A missional renaissance is

beginning to take shape, and it’s being led by a broad coalition of people who

take Jesus seriously when he says, ‘bring good news to the poor; proclaim

release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind; let the oppressed

go free; proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

 

There

is a bold and fearless Christian imagination at work in our nation today.  The compassion and mercy Jesus taught is

being expressed in bold and refreshing ways that inspire hope and potential

healing for a fracture nation and people. 

 

When

I see a broad coalition of Christians leading the #blacklivesmatter movement,

leading the struggle for a fully inclusive church and society, standing side by

side with the poor, with the immigrant, with the spiritually empty; when I see

young Christians of all traditions leading a call for gender equality within

and without the church; when I read of Christian economists calling for humane

and prudent approaches to the economic crises in Greece and in my homeland of

Puerto Rico; when I see young evangelical and liberal Christians working

together to address the problem of pervasive Islamophobia and anti-Semitism;

when I see this sort of Christian engagement with the great moral, economic,

and political challenges of our day, I feel hope!  I feel joy! 

I feel as if the message of Jesus preached inside these walls and the

walls of so many other places like this may just have a chance at being heard or

witnessed by the world beyond these walls. 

 

This

reality is not hopeful for all.  We’re a

fractured nation, split down the middle on just about every matter of

importanc

A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. J. Philip Wogaman, Foundry UMC's guest preacher on

Sunday, June 28, 2015.

By Rev. Cynthia Moore-Koikoi, guest preacher at Foundry UMC on Sunday, June 21, 2015.