Who is Jesus?

 

1st Sunday after Christmas Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling        John 1:1-18

 

Who is Jesus to you? I’ve heard this question posed by a variety of people in a variety of contexts throughout my life. Who is Jesus to you?

            Asked another way, have you ever wondered about Jesus? I mean really wrestled with the question about who He was, who He is for you, and who He will be in the age to come? People in the first few centuries asked questions about Him, as I do now. Who was Jesus? Was he human or divine? Was he man or was He God?

Unlike the other three gospels, the gospel of John is quite clear. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” The Word became flesh and lived among us in the person of Jesus. The fourth gospel claims that God entered into human history in the person of Jesus to make God known through his words and deeds. Jesus wasn’t just a babe in the manger, born of the Virgin Mary, however. According to John, Jesus also was the pre-existent Word of God, the One who created life with the Father and the One who lived, died, and rose from the dead “so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.” (3:16) Do you believe this?

            I didn’t. At least I didn’t until I too, like John, had experienced Jesus as the way, the truth, and the life. I was baptized as a baby and grew up in the Congregational Church, now called the United Church of Christ. As a child, I remember the wonder of Christmas eve services, hustling out to our car in the bitter cold, shielding the light of my candle with my hand against the wind, using the light of Christ to dispel my darkness. I didn’t wonder in doubt back then; I only wondered in awe. I believed as only a child can.

            As many of you know, in my teens, when we lived in Atlanta, my family worshiped in the Presbyterian Church. At that time in my life I wondered so much about God and Jesus that I chose not to be confirmed. And then later on, when I was off to college in Massachusetts, I wondered even more. I became a confirmed agnostic, although during a particularly difficult time in my freshman year, I found myself on my knees in the dark, outside the college chapel, asking God for help. 

Married at a young age, and once again living in Atlanta, I remember asking my next-door neighbor why she attended mass every Sunday. I wondered why she bothered to go to church, especially since our group of “married without kids” often spent Saturday nights enjoying life and adult beverages far into the night.

            Moving once again, back to Massachuestts, where our two children were born, Paul and I wondered in awe at God’s creation of these two little human beings, and so we returned to faithful and active worship in the Episcopal Church. Like Mary, we discovered that babies can bring you to your knees in wonder and awe. Not knowing what it meant, but knowing it was part of both of our families traditions, we baptized our two children into the life of Christ.

            After we settled in Newtown, Connecticut, my wondering about Jesus began in earnest. I wanted answers; and so I began to attend Bible study at the Episcopal Church on the hill. I joined the vestry, and got involved with outreach and pastoral care. Still wondering but growing in my knowledge, I took a 4 year course called Education for Ministry and learned that the early church held three different beliefs about Jesus; and they argued about them for centuries.

The catholic (little c) position claimed that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine. Our Anglican tradition affirms this belief as stated in our Nicene and Apostles’ creeds. The Ebionites believed that Jesus was the Messiah, born of the Virgin Mary and raised from the dead, but that he was not divine. And the Docetists denied the Incarnation, that Jesus only appeared to be human, but was really just fully divine. He looked like us but He wasn’t created like us. Today, these various beliefs about Jesus remain.

The battle raging in and amongst the early Jewish and Christian communities has also raged within my own heart. Who was Jesus and who was He for me? If Jesus was not divine, then why did I worship Him? If Jesus was not human, then how could he understand me? And if Jesus was both human and divine - how could that be, and what was the point? Who was I worshiping anyway? Jesus? God? Both? My wondering had me wandering all over the place. And then one day I heard the words of John the Baptist in our gospel lesson today.

            He declared to me that he knew Jesus. He claimed that this human Jesus, who came before John, also ranked ahead of him because Jesus was there before the world began. John the Baptist testified that no one has ever seen God but that Jesus was the Son of God, who was close to His Father’s heart, and made God known to us by becoming a human being. It was from Jesus’ fullness of grace and truth that we receive grace upon grace, and through Him, we are given power to become the beloved children of God.

Even so, until I became like John the Baptist myself, I could not and did not believe what the gospel of John said about Jesus. I discovered once again in another difficult time in my life that I needed to become like the voice of one crying out in the wilderness - first as one who suffered, then as one who questioned, and then as one who proclaimed as a witness. My journey of faith, perhaps like yours as adults, became a life-long process of suffering, questioning, wondering and proclamation.

Over the years, like many of you, I have become acquainted with suffering and grief. Frequently, I wrestled with questions about the meaning of life and if there is life after death. As a wife and mother, I discovered that as babies and marriages grow older, they not only bring you to your knees in wonder and awe but also in wonder and doubt.

I also wondered about the suffering in our world. As someone who has watched family members, friends, and people struggle with issues of life and death, addictions, and mental illness I wondered as well about Jesus. Although he ate and drank with sinners, did he really know the struggles of humanity? Had he not died in his early 30’s, never having been married, raised children, nor faced the challenges of his mother’s old age, let alone his own? Wasn’t Jesus the one who at his death passed the care of his mother along to his disciple John, and then confidently proclaimed, “It is finished” leaving us all to wonder what he meant?

And who among us has not wondered recently about God and Jesus with news reports around the world. There is suffering and violence in all corners of our globe that are beyond our human understanding and experience. What happened to that other voice of Jesus, who cried out from the cross “My, God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

How is it then that my voice, crying out in the wilderness, has become a voice of one who also proclaims “make straight the way of the Lord”? Quite simply, through the Church. It is in Church that I began to know that the Word became flesh and lived among us, in you and me. It is through the Body of Christ, people like you at Redeemer, and the witness of faith communities everywhere, that I have come to know the true light of Christ, a “light which shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.” It is through the Church and the power of the Holy Spirit that I have seen His face, heard His voice, and felt His healing touch. I have heard the promise of our salvation in the Word of God spoken in the voice of Jesus in scripture.

Who is Jesus? He is the Living Word of God, who speaks to us daily, sometimes shouting, sometimes whispering, sometimes silent. He is the Bread of Life and the Cup of our Salvation, who feeds our hungry hearts and quenches our thirst for justice and mercy. Who is Jesus? He is the Good Shepherd, who loves us beyond measure, and guides us along the right pathways, even through the valley and shadow of death . He is the Son of God, who made us all the beloved children of God, worthy to stand before Him, and through Him we become heirs of his eternal kingdom. 

Coming to know Jesus, I am a child, once again, who can walk through the cold and bitter nights of winter, carrying my candle in front of me, knowing that the Light of the world will dispel the darkness of the world. Who is Jesus? He is the Word of God, not only telling us about God, but also showing us the Way of Love and the Will of His Father.

Who is Jesus? He is the firstborn of all creation, the head of the Church, and the author of our salvation.“Believe in God. Believe also in me,” Jesus said. And with the help of the Holy Spirit, we can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sheep and Goats, Christ the King Sunday

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling    Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill

So here we are, at the end of another liturgical season in our church. Having started one year ago we end this long green season with what we call “Christ the King Sunday,” the Last Sunday after the Pentecost, or in more secular terms, the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Next Sunday we will begin our season of Advent in the run-up to Christmas, and although the stores have been advertising Christmas long before Halloween, we still try to stay within our liturgical lanes in the church, maybe even in our own homes. And just to be clear, our green season has nothing to do with the Celtics basketball team.

When we choose the name of this Sunday as Christ the King Sunday we are identifying Jesus as our King of kings and Lord of lords. As Jesus the Christ, the Messiah and Savior of the world, He rules heaven and earth alongside God and the Holy Spirit. We also know Jesus by other names. For instance, the Son of Man, the Son of God, a rabbi, and our friend. Most often we know him as the Good Shepherd who will separate the sheep and the goats on that Judgment day. 

I’m always fascinated by animals and so I wondered why Jesus might identify his followers, or the crowd who is listening to him, as being either sheep or goats. Tempted to think only along current day, non-agrarian, cultural lines, I decided to investigate. What did the audience around Jesus think when he told them this parable? Clearly, this passage might suggest that we all would prefer to be identified as a sheep rather than a goat, right?

According to the Cultural Dictionary of the Bible, by John J. Pilch, “imposing on these texts our Western understandings of sheep and goats is grossly inconsiderate and inappropriate.” (p140). Sheep and goats represented the core values of honor and shame that permeated the Mediterranean culture at that time. Sheep were primarily men’s animals and kept outside, whereas goats belonged to the women, who kept them in the house, providing the family with daily milk and cheese. 

Men were expected to assert, protect, and if possible augment the family’s honor. And women were most vulnerable to bringing shame to a family. “The common assumption is that women are, like goats, lascivious and unprincipled creatures. They are ever on the prowl, untrustworthy, and the weakest links in every family. Because women are the most vulnerable to attacks on family honor, they must always be under the watchful eye and care of a male.” (p136-7) 

Now before you join me in my feminist outrage, let me tell you what Pilch says about the great judgment scene we hear in today’s gospel story. “Those people assigned to the right side, to the sheep gathering, are those who practiced hospitality, which in the Mediterranean world is extended mainly by men and solely to complete strangers. Those assigned to the left side, the goat gathering, are those who failed to practice hospitality.” (p139) So this parable is judging men who have not practiced hospitality to strangers. They are the goats.

Such an understanding about Mediterranean culture, about shame and honor, about men and women, and about goats and sheep raise fundamental questions for us today. Do you bring shame or honor to yourself, your family, your church, your work or your school, and your community by your behavior in general? How do you practice hospitality to any stranger that crosses your path, whether they are male or female, sick or well, on the street or in your church, a Republican or a Democrat? Who is the stranger to you?

The Rev. Chris Wendell recently wrote, “Only about 55 to 60 of the people on the Mayflower were Pilgrims. The other 40 or so weren't part of the English settlement in Holland from which the Pilgrim community had come, and they were not there for religious reasons. The Compact was necessary because the individuals in the group had differing world views, values, dispositions, religious beliefs, and motivations. They did not all trust each other. In fact, the Pilgrims called the non-Pilgrims "the strangers.” And yet, they knew they had to become one community or they would perish.”

The gospel of Matthew, as you may well know, was written probably between 80-90 A.D., after the birth of Jesus. It was written after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and during a time when Christians were persecuted not only by Roman emperors but also by Jews and Gentiles who found their behavior and their beliefs to be strange. Accused of immorality, cannibalism and insurrection, and people who encouraged the destruction of the hierarchical status quo, they were persecuted and killed. Hiding in houses, with fish symbols to point the way to their hidden communities, they worshiped God together, slaves, women, children, and men, even strangers who suddenly appeared. Occasionally at their own peril if they welcomed them. 

There was common speculation by these new Christians as to who would be judged when the great Judgment Day occurred, and for what reasons someone would rise to heaven or spend eternity in hell, where there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Yes, Matthew emphasized with visual clarity what hell would look like, and it was not pretty.

“The gospel of Matthew is known for its sharp moral stringency and apocalyptic severity.” (HarperCollins study Bible  p1858) And apparently there were great divisions even within the new church communities themselves, with certain members being judged as good or bad, depending upon what they believed. It was not always what they did or did not do, but also what they believed!

Predictions of the end times and judgment are frequent in the gospel of Matthew. Jesus said, “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (5:20) He also said, “I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.”(5:22) “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged,” he warned. (7:1)

Jesus also tells parables about division. “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.’” (13:30) There will be good fish and bad fish caught in the net. “So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (13:49-50)

As Jesus approached his own judgment time, his death upon the cross in Jerusalem, his denunciation of human behavior became sharper in the gospel Matthew. “Woe to you, who does this or that,” Jesus repeated to the crowds around him. His description of the end times became clearer. There will be suffering and persecutions throughout the world. There will be wars, earthquakes and volcanoes, and our days will be cut short. Even so, the faithful slaves will be found working, the wise bridesmaids will be prepared, and the good stewards will be found trustworthy. 

So are you shaking in your boots just yet? Are you trying to align yourself with the sheep, the good fish, the wise bridesmaid, and the good steward? Will you be found lacking in your faithful hospitality toward the stranger? We, who judge others, because their mistakes and actions are so much more egregious than our own? And we, who want others to be cast into the eternal fires, while we ascend in our heavenly robes, leaving them all behind?

“Jesus said, ‘When all the nations will be gathered before him, he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.” And yet Jesus also frequently argued that he had come to save the sinners and not the righteous.To forgive and not punish. A house divided, like yours and mine, like our nation and our world, cannot stand, he warned them. 

Sin is often described as separation, within ourselves and from God and from other people. So maybe, just maybe, the ultimate mission of Jesus was one of reconciliation. Maybe, just maybe, Jesus wanted all of God’s beloved children and beautiful creation to be united with God forever. As our King of kings, and Lord of lords,  perhaps Jesus will come again to unite us in power and great glory, not to divide and conquer us like some rulers today.

In truth, we all fail to extend hospitality to the stranger. In truth we all fail to see Jesus today. And so, we all stand judged and condemned. However, just as a good shepherd might return errant goats to the house for protection at night, so too might the good shepherd enclose the sheep in the pen, laying down his body by the gate for their protection. 

We are not “either/or” people but rather “both/and” people. As Barbara Brown Taylor once wrote, Jesus is not only our Good Shepherd but also our Good Goatherd. As our King of kings, and Lord of lords, Jesus the Christ rules, even today!

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24 Matthew 25:31-46

Love

 

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill           The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

It’s easy to forget that Jesus was a faithful and orthodox Jew. He knows his scripture and refers to it specifically and frequently when confronted by members of his own religious party. And when it comes to love, Jesus “refuses to identify love of God with rigid religious requirements or to identify faithfulness to himself with loyalty to a particular community of people,” wrote Tim Beach-Verhey. ((Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol 4, p 216 ) Said another way, it’s all about God and God’s love, not about me or my party, Jesus taught.             

You may also remember that St. Paul, like Jesus, was a faithful and orthodox Jew and a member of the Pharisees, who rigorously applied the Jewish law to everyday life. Better than lawlessness, wouldn’t you say? However, Paul had been so zealous about his religious beliefs that initially he had actively pursued Jewish Christians, persecuting them for their belief in Jesus as the Messiah, even to the point of killing them.

Paul thought he was doing God’s work; that he was being a faithful minister in God’s holy name. It was on the road to Damascus, in hot pursuit of other Christians, that our Lord spoke to him and not only corrected his thinking, but also changed his behavior. Soon after that intervention, Paul became a follower of Jesus.

Terrorist groups and individuals, not necessarily members of any particular religious community, country, or party have caused mass murders that have been inflicted in various ways around our globe, and most recently in Israel and Maine this past month. Brutality and cruelty, and a seeming indifference to the sanctity of human life, appear evident. Words like “evil” and “heinous” are used to describe their actions.

Haters and zealots come in all colors, cults, and countries and they have traveled down the centuries throughout our history. These people are given to unconscionable behavior, and surface unexpectedly with stunning violence. They arrive on foot, in the sky, on land, and at sea. They use various weapons and justify their actions. In “almost 3000 years of history there have been less than 130 years where there has not been a war raging somewhere” and the recent Maine shooting raises questions once again about gun violence and mental illness in America. (Mark’s gospel, Barclay, p357-8)

Hate crimes are on the uptick, pundits say. Sometimes inflamed by our social media or disinformation, people will speak and act without knowing the full truth, often the first casualty of war. Hiding behind masks and going underground, these bad actors often have no accountability. Filled with anger, they may feel justified in lashing out with violence. Filled with hate, they’ve lost their moral compass. Sick, they wound others.

Hate is love that arises in people who have despaired of a solution. It surfaces in people who are so filled with rage about a situation that they resort to violence. And hate is love that has grown so stone-cold that it results in actions that seem unfathomable to most human beings. Instead, the opposite of love is “indifference.” Those words “I don’t care” can cut very deep, and can lead us to tolerate the intolerable. It eschews consequences for bad behavior. It avoids action because of the chaos and confusion.

Who said love would be easy? In truth, love is complicated. Love is multidimensional and multi-generational. Love is incarnational; showing up in our bodies, hearts, minds, and souls, and shared in various languages. Love can be taught! So too can hate.

Our Presiding Bishop is known for his frequent refrain that God is love. Such simple statements can roll off our tongues with ease, as if saying it will change our behaviors. But you and I know that it’s not that easy.          

Love God first and foremost above all else, Jesus told the lawyer. Quoting their scriptures, he recalled the first commandment given by God to Moses and then he tacked on the Levitical law, to love your neighbor as yourself. You’ve been liberated for a reason, Jesus said! Do these three things and you will not be far from the kingdom of God.

Easier said than done. And so we quibble with definitions, like the man who once asked Jesus, who is my neighbor? How does someone offer love when they are attacked by their neighbors? How do we destroy evil without harming the innocent? How do we forgive and forget, when memories cannot be erased from our harddrives, and praying for our enemies seems like an anemic response?

 Many years ago, Brian Doyle, wrote an article about loving our neighbors. He wrote, “Aw, it’s easy to love Mr. C., as he’s the guy who cheerfully lends his tools to everyone on the street and gives away handfuls of fresh redolent tomatoes from his garden. It’s just stone-cold not easy to love the guy down the street who parks his huge vehicles in front of everyone else's house and was caught dumping motor oil in the creek.”

“Or what about those arrogant thugs like Osama bin Laden, who murdered three of my friends (after 9-11)? The man who roasted children on the airplanes, fomented murder, and was responsible for thousands of innocent people being blown apart? How can I love a preening twisted coward like that guy?” Doyle demanded. (Christian Century, Jan. 22, 2014)

How do we love our neighbors in the midst of such faceless acts of evil, brutality, and immorality? How do we love the current day versions of those very same people, only now with different names and coming from different countries? Or indeed from our very own towns? First and foremost, we can turn our hearts, souls, bodies, and minds to God, Jesus reminds us. Point yourself in that direction first, he told the lawyer.

It’s like taking that first step, admitting that we are powerless over people and things, including even ourselves at times. We can hand over our “big emotions” and turn to God for guidance before we speak or act. Practically, we can write a check for humanitarian aid. We can bring food to Fuel and build Habitat houses. We can support someone who is struggling or grieving or lonely with words of comfort and encouragement. We can teach the next generations about God’s love. And they can teach us.

And so, once we have dumped our own crude oil of anger and hate into God’s lap, and filled our empty tanks with God’s love, we can remember to share that love with others. “We cannot love God without loving what God loves. We cannot love God and oppress or exclude any of God’s creatures - even one’s enemies,” wrote Tim Beach-Verhey. (Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol 4, p214)  “That is the incredible illogical unreasonable genius of it. Christianity is about loving those people you hate and would happily imprison or execute. It is about knowing that they are your brothers and sisters (because God created them like you and me in God’s own image) and you are not at all like them, with murderous splinters in your own hearts.”

God commands us to love, period. And Jesus reminds us that Love calls us to take action. To sacrifice ourselves for the sake of others, which sometimes may even mean joining the military, or giving ourselves in an act of sacrificial love. Love means that we confront the evil and immoral actions of others, standing up or standing down when it is required, despite the personal cost. It means we uphold our civil, moral, and religious laws that protect and benefit human lives. It means that we stay in the game, when we most want to quit; and we forgive when we most want to punish. It means we can pray for our enemies without condoning their behavior.

As Christians, we remember that Jesus loved Judas despite his betrayal. He loved Peter, despite his denials, and even his friends and family who deserted him. He loved the political and religious authorities who condemned him to death and the crowds who yelled “crucify him.” Beaten and bleeding, feeling abandoned and forsaken, he suffered a most violent death and yet even upon the cross, he testified to the breadth and depth of God’s love.  Pray for your enemies, he said, and “forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

St. Paul wrote to the Christians in Thessalonica, soon after he had “suffered and been shamefully mistreated in Philippi.” In spite of great opposition, he did not respond to them with hate. Nor was he indifferent to them; but rather he faithfully carried on his own mission of proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ. Despite what he had endured, St. Paul continued to offer himself “like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children.” Apparently he had been transformed by the love of Jesus.

Yes, Jesus was a revolutionary leader, and a threat to the Roman government and the religious hierarchy. Yes, Jesus was a prophet and teacher in his own right like Mohammad and Moses. And Yes, He was the one upon whom all the laws and the prophets would hang their hats. But Jesus, in the  end, was so much more than that.

As Christians we claim that after his resurrection Jesus became our Messiah, whose Father in heaven said, “Come, sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet.” For those words, I hope that God’s love and God’s power will ultimately prevail.

1 Thessalonians 2:1-8      Matthew 22:34-46

 

 

Practice What We Preach

 

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill           The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling 

Barbara Brown Taylor wrote a sermon many years ago on this parable told by Jesus. She called it “The Yes and No Brothers.” Now I imagine that most of you will say “yes” to a request and actually carry through with your intentions. Or sometimes you will say “no” because you cannot or do not want to respond to someone’s “ask” for very good reasons. Both responses have integrity.

And then Jesus tells us this parable about those two brothers' responses to their father. One says, “yes” but doesn’t follow through in his actions. The other says “no” but eventually changes his mind and goes to work in the vineyard. What’s going on here? What point is Jesus actually trying to make?

Perhaps you remember that famous quote? “Practice what you preach”? Which begs the question. How can we live out our faith with integrity? Now, if we say “yes” all the time, we may become an easy target or the proverbial doormat. If we say “no” all the time, we are accused of being curmudgeons and selfish. And then if we say one thing and do another, we become liars or hypocrites. Never mind that there may be good reasons for changing our minds.

In her sermon “The Yes and No Brothers” Barbara Brown Taylor refers to a book by Isak Dinesen entitled Out of Africa. “In it, she tells the story of a young Kikuyu boy named Kitau who appeared at her door in Nairobi one day to ask if he might work for her. She said yes and he turned out to be a fine servant; but just after three months he came to ask her for a letter of recommendation to Sheik Ali bin Salim, a Muslim in Mombasa. Upset at the thought of losing him, she offered to raise Kitau's pay, but he was firm about leaving.”

“He had decided he would become either a Christian or a Muslim, he explained, and his whole purpose in coming to live with her had been to see the ways and habits of Christians up close. Next he would go live for three months with Sheik Ali to see how Muslims behaved and then he would make up his mind. Aghast, Dinesen wrote, ‘I believe that even an Archbishop, when he had these facts laid before him, would have said, or at least thought as I did, ‘Good God, Kitau, you might have told me that when you came to work for me.”

For the most part, we intend to do good, to be responsive to people’s requests for help, to be faithful, and to follow through with what we’ve agreed to do, but then for one reason or another, we may change our minds. We fail to carry through with our good intentions. And even so, our good intentions don’t always translate into good actions.

First, let me be clear. Today, when I’m talking about changing our minds, I’m talking about our decision-making process and the resulting actions. Are they true, good, loving and kind? Are they helpful or harmful and to whom? And does our stubborn pride or human arrogance prevent us from changing our minds?

            So what about those two brothers in today’s parable? Presumably their father needs some help at work and so he turns to his sons with a request. One son responds to his father’s “ask” by saying that he will go, but then he doesn’t. The other brother says “no” but then later changes his mind. So Jesus asks the crowd, “which of the two did the will of his father?” It’s an easy answer right? It’s not about what the brothers said, Jesus suggests, but rather what they actually did.

            I spent a few days in early September in the Adirondack mountains at the home of one of our best friends. Every year for the last several decades, Paul and I have gathered with a small community of friends to share food, hiking, conversation, and prayers. At the end of our visit together, we gather in the chapel for Holy Eucharist and reflection upon scripture. This year we talked about “changing our minds.” Why do we change our minds? And does God ever change God’s mind? we wondered.

Examples surfaced. President Zelensky decided to change his mind about his defense minister and then fired his six deputies, feeling the need for a new approach to the on-going war against Russia, and changing what some people claimed was a corrupt system. Recently the leaders of Dana-Farber Cancer Institute unexpectedly changed their minds, and plan to realign their organization with Beth Israel Hospital after decades of a relationship with Mass General Brigham. Reasons varied. Getting closer to home, our conversation turned to the upcoming election for our new president. How and when and why do leaders and voters change their minds?

Which led our group into a conversation about the difference between being a leader and having authority. Leaders who are hired or elected are given authority to make changes in organized institutions, businesses, and democratic societies. Not so, with Jesus. He had no religious authority when he walked into that temple to teach people about the kingdom of God. Indeed he might have been accused of having chutzpah when he was confronted by the chief priests and elders about his teaching. Never mind that only days before Jesus had overturned tables and cleansed the Temple.

“By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” they demanded. Typical of Jesus and common to rabbis in his day, he answered their questions with one of his own. “Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” he asked them. When they would not answer, because they were afraid, he told them this parable.

            I often hear that people who choose not to go to church will point to the hypocrisy of Christians. And while we can argue that all people are hypocritical at times, that is we will say yes when we mean no, or we will behave contrary to our standard moral guidelines, our actions may belie our stated beliefs. There is an obvious lack of integrity. And this is why Jesus told the parable to the chief priests and elders. Unlike them, He was using his authority from God to do good for God’s people not to maintain his own personal power and privilege. He was a leader of and for and by the people.

In fact, that was the point that Jesus was making to the religious leaders of his time. They weren’t practicing what they preached. Nor were they interested in who Jesus was nor willing to consider any changes to their liturgy, laws, and life. Maybe you answered correctly, he was saying to them, but you are not behaving according to the will of God. Indeed, despite your great authority in our religious tradition, those who you consider to be the worst sinners of all will enter the kingdom of God ahead of you!

            Parents jokingly will say to their children, “Do as I say, not as I do” and children, like Jesus, have a way of calling us out with our inconsistencies. My granddaughter and I were sitting in the back seat of our truck on Cape Cod this summer when we began fastening our seat belts. I struggled with mine so I decided to hold it down in the cracks between the seats and pretend that I was buckled in. Elia looked over at me and said, “NanaGoose, I know what you are doing!”

            It’s not always easy to make faithful decisions, to say “yes” or “no” or even to change our minds about long-held and established traditions and beliefs. It’s not always easy to follow through with our good intentions. In truth, we may do things we shouldn’t and we will fail at our attempts to do good. We will miss the mark despite what we think is our clear aim. And so we sin.

And thankfully, God did change God’s mind about us. According to our salvation story, after the flood, God promised Noah that God would never take that action again. Then after the crucifixion of Jesus, God promised that our sins would be forgiven once and for all people. Recently, I saw a young man wearing a t-shirt that said, “If you bring up my past you should know that Jesus dropped all the charges.”

            Does that let us off the hook for our daily behavior? No. Like that ever popular phrase, “We can do better.”  We can seek to know the will of God and to follow Jesus in the Way of love. We can say “yes” to God even when it means that loving others is hard work. And we can say “no” without any guilt. We can ask ourselves that question “what would Jesus do?” and then do it.

            Barbara Brown Taylor ended her sermon with these words: “To quote Soren Kierkegaard, Jesus wants followers, not admirers. Whether we say yes or no to him is apparently less important to him than what we actually do. To tell which brother you are, - look in the mirror. What is moving? Your mouth or your feet?” Or as Benjamin Franklin once said, ““Well done is better than well said.”

            Each day is a new beginning; and we can do better, because God helps us. As St. Paul once wrote to the Philippians “for it is God who is at work in (us), enabling (us) to both will and work for his good pleasure.” Today may we practice what we preach. Amen.

           

Philippians 2:1-13              Matthew 21:23-32

Identity

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill                        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling        

            Identity is important. It helps us to clarify who we are, what we believe, and how we may speak and act. For instance, we can identify ourselves by our family relationships. I am the daughter of Keith and Louise, the sister of Keith and Libby, the wife of Paul, the mother of Megan and Brian, and the grandmother of Elia, Peter, Nathaniel, and Liliana. I may identify myself as an Episcopal priest, a member of Christ’s Body, the Church, or a passionate Boston Celtics fan. Maybe we will claim our identity in politics, race, or by our gender. Perhaps we're ‘proud to be an American.’ Or maybe not.

In an article written by Kevin Harrish, on August 2 of this year, he reported that people were furious at some of the women on the United States Soccer team for not singing our national anthem before each world cup game. “Throughout the 2023 FIFA Women’s World Cup, the United States Women’s National Team has taken a lot of criticism as the majority of the players on the team have chosen not to sing along while the national anthem is played before matches. Those players once again remained silent ahead of Tuesday’s match against Portugal, and they are once again facing criticism.”

“As the New York Post points out, the majority of the team – with the exception of a few players – remained silent while The Star Spangled Banner played during the pre-match ceremony on Tuesday. In keeping with the trend of the tournament, Alex Morgan, Julie Ertz and Lindsey Horan were seen on camera singing along, though most of their teammates did not. The coaching staff also stayed silent, the New York Post reported.” 

Critics claimed that the team no longer had an identity but rather had become a group of individuals who cared more about themselves than their team or their country. While some fans supported their rights to free speech, indeed encouraging them to even take a knee before the game, others were dropping like flies in their outrage. Some people hoped they would lose; and they did. Earliest exit ever.

It’s easy to lose our identities in a culture and a world that is constantly competing for our attention and our allegiance. We disparage people who claim a certain political identity different from our own. Interestingly, there was a disagreement by some Republican candidates for president at their recent debate about whether or not our nation has lost its identity. We may affirm or challenge our gender identities and flock to movies like Barbie. Indeed, our identities can shift depending upon many factors.

In all three synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we find a recurring question about Jesus’ identity. Who was this guy? Was he a prophet, a rabbi, a revolutionary politician, or the charismatic leader of a particular religious group? Was he the Son of Man, the Son of David, and the Messiah? As he spoke and acted in various settings, I imagine people would look at him and wonder, “Who are you?” And yet the demoniacs, coming out of the tombs, recognized him at once and cried out, “What have you to do with us, Son of God?”

Perhaps Jesus had some identity issues himself. And so today we hear him ask his disciples for some clarity and feedback. Who do people say that the Son of Man is?

Many years ago I started my sabbatical with time away by attending a two week course in Israel at St. George’s College in Jerusalem. We followed in the footsteps of Jesus from his birth in Bethlehem, up north to Nazareth, where he began his ministry in the many towns of Galilee, and beyond that into gentile territory. As you heard last week in Mike's sermon, Jesus traveled as far north as Tyre and Sidon, Syro-Phoenician towns that were home to pagans and gentiles who worshiped various gods. Today, Jesus takes his disciples to Caesarea Phillipi, a town in gentile territory and known similarly.

 Now recall that Israel had been occupied by people from various countries all around it, and so they worshiped many gods who were identified by different names. Caesarea Philippi actually began as a pagan holy site in ancient times. Located there was a lovely grotto, which had a dark cave, with a deep spring of water in the back. Because the grotto inspired awe and mystery with so many people, it was believed to be sacred, and people would come from all around to worship their gods. These pagan gods were called Baal.

 Now sometime after the death of Jesus, St. Paul had written to the Christians in Rome telling them to “present themselves as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which (would be) their spiritual worship.” Centuries earlier, however, the worshippers of Baal took this suggestion literally. They would throw human beings, presumably ones who had offered themselves for this service or infants who had no voice, into the deep pool at the back of the cave. If the body disappeared, they believed their sacrifice was accepted by their god. If the body or blood rose to the surface, they believed their sacrifice had been rejected, and the worshippers would try again.

When the territory around Caesarea Philippi later became occupied by Alexander the Great from Greece, an altar was erected to the Greek god named Pan, who was part human and part goat. Known as the god of shepherds and flocks, hunting and music, Pan represented the beauty of nature and the arts, and goats were considered their sacred animal. This grotto then became the “holy of holies” for Greek worshippers where fresh air and dancing were the activities of the pilgrims. Worshippers didn’t throw bodies into the water but would leave gifts of food, wine, and flowers on the altar to Pan.

Now during the Roman occupation, Herod the Great built a temple of white marble to honor Caesar Augustus as the supreme Roman god. When Herod’s son Philip began to rule over this territory, he enlarged the town and renamed it Caesarea Philippi. Still honoring the Roman emperor Caesar as a god, Philip also wanted the town to be identified with him. And it was into this place that Jesus brought his disciples, and asked them that question. Who do people say that I am?

            Clearly the answers varied. Some identified Jesus as John the Baptist, who had been killed by Philip’s brother Herod Archelaus, and was seeking revenge through Jesus. Others claimed Jesus was the prophet Elijah who was signaling that the end of the ages was coming, and the day of the Lord was imminent. And still others claimed that like the prophet Jeremiah, Jesus was reminding the Israelites to worship the one and only true God named Yahweh.

            In today’s passage from the gospel of Matthew, Peter names Jesus as the Messiah, the son of the living God. For the Israelites, their messiah would be their new king, and a religious leader who would save God’s people from the oppression and discrimination of foreign governments. Looking for a political revolutionary, they did not understand that their salvation would come in a different way. Jesus’ power was not steeped in political, economic, or military might. He used God’s power for healing and hope.

Last week, the gospel of Matthew claimed that Jesus began to understand his mission differently, expanding it beyond the lost sheep of Israel. And today’s passage represents yet another turning point in the life of Jesus. After stopping in Caesarea Philippi, Jesus heads towards Jerusalem, and “from that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must undergo great suffering at the hands of the religious and political leaders.”

“It will be me,” Jesus was saying to his disciples, “who will be thrown into that cave. Although you will see my body and blood on the cross, you will not have to try again, for my sacrifice will be once and for all people. I am your GOAT, an acronym for ‘Greatest Of All Time.’”

            On that day in Caesarea Philippi long ago, when I was on my sabbatical, our group of pilgrims reflected upon this passage in that particular location. In the trickling waters that flowed down from Mount Hermon into the Jordan River, in the current day Golan Heights, we renewed our baptismal covenants. Identifying ourselves as Christians, people who believed that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of the Living God, who came for the salvation of all God’s people, we offered ourselves once again as living sacrifices, to carry on the ministry that he began long ago.

So how is it that we can present ourselves as living sacrifices to the one we claim as our Messiah? St. Paul offers his advice. “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God-- what is good and acceptable and perfect. St. Paul reminds us that we are a team, that is we are One Body in Christ, with various gifts to offer by the grace given to us by God. We can sing songs of praise, and take a knee for our Lord, during our worship services. Then, after we leave this place, we can hope that people will identify us as Christians, that they will know that we are Christians by our love.

Romans 12:1-8            Matthew 16:13-20

Good Fish Bad Fish

 

 The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling     

One of the Boston Sports writers once described his feelings about a certain Celtics basketball player as a binary flip flop between love and hate. This player was inconsistent and erratic, and therefore frustrating to watch at times. His amazing defensive plays were followed by bonehead offensive shots. But he was also known as the heart and soul of the team, and more importantly he was beloved in the community for helping kids with cancer. He was someone who gave it his all, who left everything on the court.

Now you may think I’m a little tiresome with my Celtics basketball analogies. “Oh, no, here she goes again,” I can hear you say. But Jesus constantly invited us to think about the realities of life to help us imagine what the kingdom of heaven may be like. Using five short parables, Jesus said, “This is what the kingdom of heaven is like” and then He described quite ordinary professions: a farmer, a woman baking bread, a merchant, and a fisherman.

He also described real landscapes. The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that grows into a large tree where birds can build nests and create new life. The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that leavens the woman’s bread. It’s a treasure in a field, and a pearl that has great value. It’s like a net that is thrown into the sea, and later, when the boat returns to home port, angels will come and separate the good fish from the bad.

At that point, I imagine the crowd around Jesus beginning to murmur. They may wonder if the decision of God’s angels is a binary choice. Do good fish go to heaven and bad fish burn in hell? Will the truly evil people in our world face the consequences of their heinous actions? And will good fish like you and me go elsewhere? Where is our hope in a landscape that at times seems filled with violence and hate?

“God has a purpose,” St Paul declares in his letter to the Romans. Everything will work out in the end, and it will be for the good. We are destined for the kingdom of heaven, he claims; for we have been conformed into the image of Jesus, like bread that has been well kneaded by our suffering and pain. We will be justified, that is we will be made righteous, and then glorified by God because of Jesus. Or as Talitha J. Arnold once wrote, “Jesus transforms human life not by scaring the hell out of people, but by helping them see the heaven (that is) close at hand. “(Feasting on the Word, p.286)

Not so fast, you might protest. What about that judgment issue that Jesus describes in the last of these five parables today? Will those people get their comeuppance in the end, their time in the fiery furnace, for the choices they’ve made? Will those murderers, shooters, bad actors, and bad fish finally pay for the deeds they have done? And what exactly will the judgment of God look like for you and me and them?

Now, the judgment of God is often defined as a fiery furnace; however, it can also be interpreted as a moment of clarity, when the truth of who we are and what we’ve done is revealed to us. Or when the truth of a situation and a person is understood in new and different ways. We humans are good at judging others without ever knowing the fullness and the truth of a situation.

People who have had near death experiences have claimed that they have seen their whole lives pass before them in the presence of a loving God. Burning off the dross of their lives, they see themselves pass through a tunnel of light into the loving embrace of God’s arms. For some who have committed acts worthy of our condemnation and judgment such an experience has been life-altering. And yet, who wants to sit next to that so-called evil person at the great feast in heaven? While God may have condemned and then forgiven them, and indeed maybe even changed them for good, we’re not so sure.

The Rev. Alexis Vaughn recently reviewed a book called “The Light We Give” by Sikh educator and activist Simran Jeet Singh. She entitled her review “Can People be Evil?” and while the author of this book says “No” Vaughn says, “I’m not so sure.” Singh rejects the idea of a binary choice between people being either good or evil after “seven Sikhs were massacred as they worshiped together in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, in 2012.” 

“While grappling with his personal anger and sadness following this massacre, Singh felt the need to speak to diverse audiences about the Sikh faith and the implications of hate for American society. He traveled to a summer camp to speak to Sikh children immediately after the massacre, and asked the children if they knew what had happened. A young girl responded, “A bad, bad man came and killed a bunch of us. He was evil.”

“Singh wrestled with how to respond because he found something unsettling about naming Wade Michael Page, the shooter, as evil. He explained: ‘On the one hand, I preferred this framing because it helped make sense of a seemingly senseless massacre. But on the other hand, hearing a child say these words out loud revealed a truth that upset me. I took comfort in seeing him as evil. But I don’t believe in evil as a reality of our world, and I certainly don’t believe that people are evil. Damaged and destructive, yes. But evil, no.’”

Now you and I know that I can name a litany of stories about the evil actions of people throughout our world. We hear about binary acts of love and hate, good and evil, on a daily basis. Unlike Singh, however, I believe that evil is a reality of our world.

But I also believe that people are not binary, that is 100% good or 100% evil. And so, the remaining ultimate question for me is whether or not there is a small seed, that is a kernel of God’s goodness, that lies at the very center of every human being. And if there is that seed, it can never be destroyed, and indeed it can even grow. Furthermore, I wonder if any evil person or action can exist in the kingdom of heaven. Has all evil and all evil actions been burned away in the fiery furnace, leaving only goodness and God to remain?

Today’s fifth parable by Jesus reminds us that we are accountable to God for our behavior. He reminds us that God oversees that great Dragnet that will eventually gather all of us, good fish and bad fish alike, into God’s loving presence. No one condemns except God. No one can eternally save except God.

Parables also beg questions about our Creator. If God has created all those fishes in the deep blue sea like you and me, then is it not God who oversees all eternal judgments? And if so, will God create a new heavenly rest for everyone where evil acts can no longer exist?  Where we can all build nests and create new life safely?

St. Paul acknowledges that we are weak at times and in need of help; and so, he names the Holy Spirit as our intercessor, who Steven D. Paulson calls our “personal groaner.” When we cannot pray or do not know how to pray or when we are appalled at the evil and hateful actions of others, or ourselves for that matter, we can turn to our “personal groaner” to intercede for us. We can ask God for help.

And St. Paul reminds us that God has not only given us a “personal groaner” called the Holy Spirit but also God’s very own Son who will intercede for us. In the end St. Paul offers us hope. “If God is for us, (then) who is against us?”  Who indeed will separate us from the love of God. Nothing, St. Paul professes. For St. Paul himself, a convicted murderer, and a religious zealot, was converted from a hater of Christians to a lover of Jesus. He flipped!

St. Paul became convinced, and then was convicted, 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.” All people, once separated by divisions, hate, and violence, are reconciled to God through Jesus.

The first four parables today also give us hope. Jesus can be the leaven in our daily bread, the treasure that can be found in our fields at home, work, school, or in the community. He is the pearl of great price, which Jesus bought with his very own blood, and is now ours forever. In the kingdom of heaven, He is the Tree of Eternal Life, a place where birds from all nations can build nests and create new life. And for us Christians, He has become the heart and soul of our team, and the Son of God who left it all on the court for our sakes.

That being said, I still wonder, can people be evil? Like the Rev. Alexis Vaughn, some days I’m not so sure.

 Romans 8:26-39                Matthew 13:31-33,44-52

 

The Light We Give            How Sikh Wisdom Can Transform Your Life    By Simran Jeet Singh

A book review by Alexis Vaughan entitled “Can People Be Evil?”

Alexis Vaughan, a Disciples of Christ minister, serves as director of racial equity initiatives at Interfaith America.                     Published on July 6, 2023 Christian Century

The Sower of Seeds

 

Church of the Redeemer             The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                   

The women’s Bible study group that meets on Thursday mornings recently has been working our way through the gospel of Mark. Presumed to be the first gospel written after the death and resurrection of Jesus, Mark describes Jesus as an action figure. Implicitly suggesting that Jesus has divine power, Mark tells us that Jesus was someone who healed the sick, cast out demons, and challenged his religious leaders straight from the jump. Then he began his teaching ministry by telling parables.

            Now recall that people in those days didn’t have church bulletins in which every word was printed. In fact, in those days, many people didn’t know how to read, and so religion was an oral tradition. Pointing to the obvious activity in front of them, whether he’s inside or outside a house, whether he’s in the city of Jerusalem or the countryside of Galilee, whether he’s in Jewish or Gentile territory, on land or at sea, in a synagogue, a boat, or on the plains, Jesus repeatedly told the crowd around him to “Look.”  If you are not blind to the spiritual realities of your lives, then you will see the kingdom of heaven right there in front of you. God is at work.

Jesus also said, “Listen.” If your ears are willing to disconnect from the latest political dramas, the talk that sabotages your well-being, or fears that burden you, then you will hear the good news of God. Just “look” and “listen” Jesus told his followers. The kingdom of heaven is right here in front of you. Can you see it? Can you hear the good news of God in the cacophony of voices that is surrounding you?

            Apparently Jesus often used parables to invite his listeners into a deeper and wider understanding of God and our responses to God and others.Today’s parable about the sower, the seeds, and the soil is famously entitled “The Parable of the Sower” for that’s where it all begins. “Who is the Sower of these seeds,” we may well ask? Is it God? Is it Jesus? Is St. Matthew? Is it me in this pulpit today? Or perhaps, more importantly, is it you?

            I know there are many gardeners here at Redeemer, and let me confess right away that I am not one of them. While I may have a green thumb as a Celtics fan, I tend to kill plants. In fact, I have never carefully placed any little seeds into a small patch of soil in order to watch it grow. A plant whisperer, I am not; and while I appreciate the hard work of gardeners, I don’t like gardening.

Indeed if I were a sower of seeds, I would be like the one Jesus described in today’s parable. I would throw my seeds carelessly everywhere, wherever I walked, disregarding the terrain, and not caring, nor even seeing where the seeds have landed. And so, I wondered, why would Jesus portray such an irresponsible sower, someone who is like me, as a lesson for his listeners?

Every time I hear this parable, I remember my short-lived occupation as a sower of seeds which I have told frequently. Paul and I had just moved to Glastonbury, Connecticut, a town which is known for its many farms that produce berries, corn, fresh vegetables, pumpkins, and Christmas trees. Oftentimes you can pick your own products in the fields on their farms or buy them fresh off the shelf at their shops along the roadside.

When we began looking for a house, our realtor wisely guided us away from a new housing development on land which had previously grown tobacco. Chemicals were known to infiltrate the water systems and could be harmful to your health. Despite the flat terrain, the beautiful red drying barns that populated the landscape, and the very green grass that was growing around these new houses, this location was not a good place to raise children nor to grow organic fruits and vegetables.

            So Paul and I bought a home that had been owned by two professionals, a pediatrician and a teacher, who were also environmentalists. They loved to create gardens and grow plants, flowers, and vegetables on their property. In one corner they had created a garden for vegetables, enclosed by a fence, where the sun and shade were well balanced. Paul was excited to sustain this garden, planting his own vegetables of tomatoes, green peppers, and squash.

 And, truth be told, I was not. Initially, I didn’t want to become involved in this gardening endeavor; for I knew my history and track record with gardening. Besides I was starting a new job as the rector of a parish and I was excited to plant my spiritual seeds of love there. When Paul asked me why I wouldn’t want to be engaged with God’s creation at our home, I responded arrogantly. “I care for the seeds of new life in God’s garden at the parish all day long, and I’m too tired when I get home.” And yet, Paul, who also worked long days in his own job, responded, “But so do I.”

            And so I agreed to participate, albeit reluctantly, and certainly not whole-heartedly. I was wary of some history between us. He would start projects and I would finish them. He is an entrepreneur and I am a day laborer. So I decided to start my own garden, on a much smaller scale and closer to our house. I wanted the boundaries, responsibilities, and the ownership of our gardens to be crystal clear.

I placed my plants in a raised bed next to our side door, on the sunny side of our house, right next to the water hose. Trying to minimize my labor, I planted only green beans. Unprotected by a fence, my green beans became a feast for the rabbits. Because I was closer to the garden hose, I thought that I would be more attentive to watering my plants, but I didn’t. The sun scorched my green beans.

In passive aggressive resistance, I did nothing with my own garden. Sure I sowed those new seeds; but I didn’t water them, weed them, or protect them. I trusted that God and Mother Nature would do all the work; and secretly, I hoped to eat the fruits of Paul’s garden and his good labors, unwilling to put in the hard work, or the daily care that was required for my own. My heart wasn’t really in it, and my actions betrayed my words.

            Truth be told, we both learned from our Sowing Seeds ministry. The busyness of our day jobs became the hard path upon which our good seeds fell; and so nothing grew in certain spots of both our gardens. Neither of us, in our haste, had prepared the soil well. There was too little soil in mine and his soil had been overused and was lacking in nutrients. Weeds, pests, thorny roots, not to mention New England rocks, hidden below the surface, often crowded out or strangled our plants.

Look and listen, Jesus told his followers. We are busy, rocky, thorny, shallow people; and so God’s seeds don’t always land on the best of our soils. At various times in our lives, at different stages in our growth, whether we’re at home, at work, at school, in our parish or the community at large, we will find ourselves tired, hurting, struggling, and less than enthusiastic about caring for our gardens. Preoccupied with physical, mental, and emotional challenges, we may let our spiritual lives languish.

            Jesus reminds us that God is the Sower of all seeds, perhaps irresponsibly, but surely God sows God’s seeds of love extravagantly, indiscriminately, and indeed even with radical generosity. Unworried about where they land, God knows that even if they die, these seeds will rise again in ways that we cannot see, nor even imagine. 

When life gets too hard, when the sun gets too hot, the rain seems relentless, creatures appear to be dangerous, and the weeds overpower us in our daily lives, it’s time for us to turn back to God, to remember that Jesus is our Master Gardener, and the Holy Spirit is always at work, even when we’re asleep. No matter what path we’re on, or in which part of God’s garden we live, God will always plant new seeds of faith, hope, and love to sustain us.

So trust the Sower of the Seeds. And then sow a little of your own with that very same Spirit: extravagantly, indiscriminately, and perhaps even with radical generosity.

 Romans 8:1-11    Matthew 13:1-9,18-23