6/29/25 Sermon

Last week both in the sermon briefly and in the e-mail that went out Wednesday, I told you that I’ve been spending a lot of time with community and religious leaders talking about the rise in antisemitism and antisemitic threats that our Jewish siblings have been receiving.  And most of you have seen either on Facebook or through the emails or in the back of the bulletin this morning, the statement that Session and I unanimously agreed to put out into the world.

Now, I’ll be honest with you, family.  I’ve always believed that words matter.  I’ve always believed that presence - just showing up and listening in order to be supportive is powerful.  But I had my doubts that putting up a statement was really enough.  I didn’t really think it would have much of an impact besides making me and maybe us feel better or like we’ve done something.  And I’ll be honest again, it ISNT enough and we’re GOING to do more. I have meetings with several rabbis in the coming weeks to find ways we can do more and be more present and supportive - like by attending their services as a sign of solidarity, pulpit exchanges, and educational programs that I’m going to highly encourage you support and be a part of.  But I was wrong about one thing.  That statement we released as a church HAS made a difference.  And it has helped.

I want to share with you some snippets of messages I’ve received this past week:

1. Rabbi Wendi Geffen

Senior Rabbi, North Shore Congregation Israel

“On behalf of my community … I want to sincerely and profoundly thank you and your church for your incredibly meaningful statement of support and friendship with the Jewish community. … Within 10 minutes of my reposting it, SO MANY congregants told me how comforted and supported they felt. Thank you for being a true friend and ally.”

With gratitude and hopes for Shalom

2. Rabbi Alex Freedman

Associate Rabbi, North Suburban Synagogue Beth El, Highland Park

“Your church’s statement of support and solidarity against antisemitism means a lot to me and the Jewish community. Thank you for your outspoken support; I will be sharing it with our congregation.”

3. Rabbi Michael Schwab

Senior Rabbi, Beth El, Highland Park

“I wanted to thank you so much for the heartfelt message … standing in solidarity with your Jewish neighbors. Please share my gratitude with your leaders and congregants. Together we can build a community based on love, understanding, and mutual cooperation.”

4. Rev. Marcia Lauzon

Episcopal priest, raised at HPPC

“Growing up in Highland Park among Jewish neighbors taught me the blessing of knowing another faith and the evil of hatred.
… I applaud and thank the Session for its resolution. I will pass this on to my diocesan leadership.

‘Respect the dignity of every human person’—our baptismal covenant—echoes your stand today.

I hold you in prayer. May God bless you in this endeavor.”

I’m so stinking proud of this church and your leadership.

Not every church would do this.  Not even every church I’ve served would support putting out a statement like that.  I’ve seen the handwringing and heard the spoken concerns about things like this being too political and what about the other groups that are targeted and what kind of message does this really send? Are we going to do this for every group when faced with discrimination?

And My answer is always the same:  if you think fighting prejudice and discrimination is too political, then you really aren’t going to like Jesus. It sends the message that we don’t just TALK about loving our neighbors in church, we try to go out into the world and actually do it. And if we need to keep fighting hatred in the public arena, then you can count me in.  Because its absolutely wrong and antithetical to the Gospel, life, teachings, and witness of Jesus Christ.  But this church - YOU - without hesitation or second guess have stepped up to answer the plea from our Jewish neighbors to show them that they are loved.  I couldn’t be more proud and humbled and honored to be your minister.

Now, listen. I know we aren’t a perfect church. We don’t always get along with each other.  We pick what can sometimes seem like stupid fights with each other. We save our handwringing for things like rummage or where certain things should go or how we get more people active and involved and in the doors of this church.  We have serious conversations and arguments and sometimes major disagreements over a whole host of topics.

But when it really matters, we come together.  When our town was devastated in the trauma and tragedy of the 4th of July 3 years ago, this church - you - opened our doors and our hearts wide open to give people of all faiths, all politics, all walks of life a place, a time, and a community to grieve and pray with.  And you did it for no other reason than it was the right thing to do.

That moment—when we opened our doors after the 4th of July shooting—and this moment—when we opened our hearts to stand with our Jewish neighbors—they’re not separate events. They’re threads in the same sacred fabric. They’re part of a story this church keeps choosing to tell with its actions: that when love is needed, we show up. Not perfectly. Not always smoothly. But faithfully.

And that kind of choice? That kind of love-in-action? It connects us to something much bigger than ourselves. Because faith communities across time have always faced moments like this—moments when the Gospel calls them to stand up, speak out, and push against the currents of fear, division, or conformity.

One of those communities lived nearly two thousand years ago, in a region called Galatia...

Let me tell you about the churches in Galatia.

A few years after Jesus’ resurrection, the Apostle Paul traveled through Galatia—a diverse Roman province in  what’s now modern-day Turkey. Paul preached a radical message there: God’s grace, freely given through Jesus Christ, was available to everyone—Jew and Gentile alike. That message hit home in powerful ways. People embraced it wholeheartedly, forming these vibrant, multicultural communities rooted in freedom and love.

But not long after Paul moved on, new teachers moved in. And they pretty much brought a whole different message entirely, insisting that believing in Jesus wasn’t enough. But you also had to follow strict Jewish laws and traditions if you really want to belong to God. And tragically, some of the Galatian churches started to believe them.

Now, when Paul heard this, he was devastated. He was crushed—and of course he was angry. He’d passionately preached that God’s love required no hoops and no qualifications. Yet here they were, slipping back into religious bondage. He quickly wrote them one of his most fervent letters, beginning bluntly: “I am astonished you are so quickly deserting the one who called you.”

To Paul, this wasn’t a minor theological disagreement—it was everything. At stake was the very heart of the Gospel: freedom. Not freedom to live selfishly or recklessly, but freedom to live courageously by the Spirit—to embody love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, and self-control. Paul warned them clearly: “It’s for freedom that Christ has set you free. Don’t submit again to slavery.” Don’t go back to a life dictated by fear, conformity, or division.

He reminded them powerfully, “Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything. What counts is a new creation.” What mattered most wasn’t religious labels or rituals, but lives transformed by grace, courageously committed to love.

This ancient struggle is our struggle too.

Like the Galatians, we live in a world tempted by easy answers, tribal divisions, and simplistic judgments. We’re surrounded by voices telling us to measure up, to fit in, to conform—or to divide ourselves sharply from those who think or live differently. And sometimes, even our faith communities can fall prey to this temptation—turning the grace of God into something conditional, a standard to meet, or a badge of identity.

But Paul’s message to the Galatians—and to us—is crystal clear. We’ve been set free. And our freedom is not to serve ourselves, nor to judge others, nor to build walls of separation, but to serve one another through love.

The freedom Christ offers isn’t about escaping responsibilities or ignoring the struggles around us. It’s freedom for something—freedom for loving boldly, freedom for standing courageously against hatred, freedom for choosing compassion over division.

That’s exactly what we’ve begun doing here. When we publicly declared our support for our Jewish neighbors, we embodied Paul’s vision of Christian freedom — freedom lived out in tangible love, solidarity, and grace. And yet, as powerful and meaningful as this beginning is, Paul reminds us that walking in the Spirit is a lifelong journey. It’s about continually choosing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control in a world that more often than not lacks these very qualities.

So, let’s commit today—not just in words but in action—to keep walking this road. Let’s stand alongside those who are marginalized or threatened. Let’s reject voices of hatred, division, and fear, whether they come from outside or within. Let’s choose grace over judgment, unity over division, and the liberating love of Christ over the restrictive bonds of religious or social prejudice.

Friends, earlier I shared the heartfelt words of gratitude we received from leaders in our community. Those words aren’t just compliments; they're sacred affirmations reminding us that courageous love matters, that solidarity matters, and that the freedom Christ gives us—to love radically and boldly—can literally change lives.

Yes, we’re imperfect, messy, and complicated—but when it counts most, we've seen what we can become. When our community suffered, you opened your hearts wide without hesitation. When our Jewish neighbors reached out, you chose solidarity over silence, love over fear.

Church, this is who we are called to be—people defined not by labels, divisions, or shallow religiosity, but by courageous, transformative love.

So keep choosing that love. Keep standing boldly against hatred. Keep living into the freedom Christ offers—a freedom that sends us out into the world not timidly, but confidently, passionately, relentlessly committed to grace.

Because when all else fades away, what remains is love. Love is our calling. Love is our freedom. Love is the new creation Christ invites us into.

Let’s go live it. Boldly. Fearlessly. Faithfully Together.

Amen.