Rev. Nancy S. Taylor

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It is early days in Jesus’ ministry. Yet, word is already out about a new prophet mighty in word and deed. Word is he is a healer and a teacher. Word is, this one’s the real deal, the genuine article.

So, when word arrives that he is in town … he’s come to our town every last one of us, rush over to the Common to hear this preacher and teacher, to see this miracle worker ... to judge and to see for ourselves.

When we arrive at the Common, Jesus is at the top of a hill and thousands are spilling down the hill, eager to hear him.

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Rabbi Jesus is teaching, out of doors on a hillside in Galilee. He is teaching his disciples, but thousands of people are gathered round to listen in. They are peasants, non-citizens in an occupied empire. They are the poor, the dispossessed.

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Can you blame them? Can you blame Mary, Peter and the other disciple for their confusion at the tomb? Can you blame them that disorientated by grief they falter and fumble? Can you blame them that in the aftermath of Jesus’ gruesome death, and with the discovery that his body is missing, they fail to rise to the high occasion of this day? Who can blame them for running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off?

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Did you hear? Did you take in the conversation between Jesus and the Canaanite woman? Did you hear what Jesus said? He called her a dog. Actually, it is even worse than that. He called her daughter a dog. He said, in so many words, that her daughter was beneath and beyond his compassion. That he wasn’t going to waste his time, his healing powers on the likes of her.

Can that be right? Was Jesus that rude? That unfeeling? Is this the Jesus of “Jesus loves me this I know because the Bible tells me so”? Or, is this some other Jesus?

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John Romero recalls running in the 1973 Boston Marathon¹. The weather was hot ... too hot for a Marathon. By the start of the race the temperature had already climbed to 76 degrees.

Two miles into the race Romero was in the midst of a large clutch of runners. Every single one of them, bone dry and thirsty … and there was no water in sight.

Orange peels lay strewn across the pavement, but there were no oranges to be had. Empty paper cups littered the road ... but there was no water.

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A Jesus story. But bear with me for, while the story appears to be about adultery it is not. I promise. On the other hand, we do have to get a little bit into adultery before we can get past it and through it and onto the Jesus story.

A Jesus story. Scene One.

Some religious authorities catch a woman in the very act of adultery. They drag her into the Temple where Jesus is teaching and they shove her toward Jesus.

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By faith did we baptize Samuel James Houghton Wetherald this morning. By faith did we baptize him into the family of Jesus Christ. By faith did we mark him for God, for good and for love. By faith did we become his brothers and sisters, family to Samuel. The Christian family expands every time there is a baptism. For Christians, water is thicker than blood.

Old South Church has been and continues to be blessed with a great many great Samuels who, by baptism, are our kith and kin. Allow me to introduce a few of them to you.

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This past Thursday Old South Church was honored to host the Commonwealth’s celebration of Nelson Mandela’s 95th birthday.

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Among the Bible’s masterpieces—in and among such masterpieces as the 23rd Psalm, Mary’s Magnificat and the Beatitudes—there lurk a great many utterly inscrutable stories. And among these inscrutable stories, today’s story might take the cake.

This story begins as a simple notification that turns into a negotiation. But, oh my word, what a negotiation it is! And, the negotiating partners? No less than Father Abraham and God.