There is an aphorism about preaching that says the preacher “must hold the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.” This is often attributed to the influential Swiss theologian Karl Barth, whom Time Magazine in the 1960s called “the greatest living Protestant theologian.” Truth is, however, that he never really said it. What he actually said, in an interview with Time in 1963, was, “Take your Bible and take your newspaper, and read both. But interpret newspapers from your Bible.”[1] In other words, try to understand events in the world through the lens of Scripture and take guidance from it as you seek to live in this world.
As I followed the news media the past few weeks, two stories stood out for me. One was the witness of the women who are the surivors of Jeffrey Epstein’s human trafficking enterprise. The other was the tale of the US Women’s Ice Hockey team who won the Olympic gold medal but were nonetheless made the butt of a joke by the president. It seemed to me that John’s story of Jesus’ long conversation with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well offers us a lens through which to view these news stories. So I started making notes for a sermon along those lines.
I assume that everyone here has seen A Christmas Story?
“You are the light of the world. … [L]et your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
I’m sure you’re all familiar with Howard Thurman’s meditation entitled The Work of Christmas:
Do you all know what a tort is? Tort … T-O-R-T … no E on the end; I’m not talking about those wonderful little German or Austrian pastries. A tort is a civil wrong that causes harm to another person, resulting in legal liability for the person who commits the wrong. You leave a puddle of milk on the floor of your grocery store knowing it’s there, then someone slips in it and injures themselves: you have committed a tort. You speed through a stop sign, collide with another car, and injure the driver: you’ve not only broken the law, you’ve committed a tort.
A few weeks ago, as I was looking forward to my annual cover-Rachel’s-vacation gig here at Harcourt Parish, my plan was to preach a sort of two-part sermon on play and playfulness. Seemed like a good summer-time thing to do. Last week, on Pentecost Sunday, I suggested to you that playfulness is a gift of the Holy Spirit, that play is why we were made. Today being Trinity Sunday, I planned to follow-up with a few words about how a metaphor of play and playfulness can help us understand and participate in the relational community which the triune God is. 
Y’all know who John Wesley is, or was, I’m sure. The Anglican priest who founded Methodism? My paternal grandparents were Methodists and they really tried to make me into one but, for some reason, it didn’t stick. To this day when Evelyn and I visit a Methodist church, I will often turn to her as we are leaving and say, “There’s a reason I’m not a Methodist.” 
“Do you want to be made well? … Stand up, take your mat and walk.”
Let’s have a show of hands: everyone who believes that there is a Constitution of the United States raise your hand. OK, good. Now everyone who believes in the Constitution of the United States raise your hand. Some of you might be thinking, “Wait. Didn’t he just ask us to do that?” Well, no. There’s a difference between “belief that” and “belief in.” 
One of the things I try to do when I read the stories of Jesus in the Gospels, when he uses an odd or striking metaphor like “I will make you fishers of people”
