As a Presbyterian clergyperson, I belong to a regional judicatory called Albany Presbytery, and this spring Albany Presbytery released a statement objecting—as a matter of Christian principle—to destructive developments in US politics around immigration, social services, public discourse, and other parts of the common good. I was honored to participate in drafting that statement, and I am proud to see that it’s getting some attention on the national stage.
A sermon preached at Putnam Presbyterian Church on September 8, 2024
Sermon text: Mark 7:24–30
Of all the stories of Jesus told to us by the Gospel writers, this one is—hands-down—the least flattering. In the first part of the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is wandering around, teaching and performing miracles, but largely staying out of the spotlight, for he has decided that the time has not yet come to reveal himself in full to the world. In that spirit, he sneaks into a house in the region of Tyre, presumably with a sympathetic follower, perhaps to catch a meal and some rest. But his reputation precedes him, and soon a woman intrudes and sits at his feet. This woman is a Gentile, which in biblical parlance means that she is not Jewish. And in case we didn’t catch that important detail, the storyteller emphasizes that she is Syrophoenician. She is not Jewish, but she comes to this Jewish healer with a dire need. Her daughter is ill. In that ancient worldview, the girl is considered to have a demon, and she needs help. So her mother falls at the feet of Jesus and begs him to come and lay hands on her daughter.
Jesus’ response is abrupt, and, to readers of this story ever since, very puzzling. He says to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Translation: I am here for the people of Israel, not for Gentiles. But not only does he refuse to help her because she is not Jewish, the way he puts it peddles in insults. Dogs he calls her kind. The Messiah of God refers to Gentiles as animals.
A sermon preached in August 2023 at Hebron United and Putnam United Presbyterian Churches
Sermon Text: Romans 11:1–2, 25–36
Many of us probably noted in the news this summer the conclusion of the case involving the Tree of Life Synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in October 2018. Robert Bowers was convicted in June and sentenced to death earlier this month for killing eleven people gathered for worship at the synagogue. The sentence itself is worthy of a sermon, but not today. Today it is enough for the resolution of that case to remind us that antisemitism remains an acute problem in the United States. More than 3,600 acts of antisemitic hatred were committed in 2022, the largest number for a single year since the Anti-Defamation League started tracking such activity in 1979. Antisemitism is no more a relic of history than racism is. It is not something that plagued us in the past but that we have gotten over, an argument you hear with naïve frequency about racism. Racism remains a national problem, and so does antisemitism. In fact, both of these deeply rooted national sins have been given new permission in the caustic political culture in which we find ourselves.
And—like racism—something that Christian Americans need to wrestle honestly with is the complicity of our religious tradition in this national sin. Truth be told, antisemitism is a problem in the US because Christianity is so dominant in this country, and whether we like to admit it or not, antisemitism goes way back in our religious tradition.
James Calvin Davis 