Sermon: Pentecost 6 - Galatians 6.11-18, July 5, 2026
Scripture: Galatians 6.11-18
Preacher: Ryan Slifka
Sermon: Pentecost 6
Today is our final sermon in our series on the Apostle Paul’s letter to the churches in Galatia. This is our twelfth and final sermon in the series. This is it.
Using an ancient convention, Paul wrestles the pen from the scribe who he’s been dictating to this whole time, and writes the letter in his own hand. And he does it to hammer home his point with as much force as possible.
For those of you who’ve been here for the series you’ll know that the letter is more or less an argument about circumcision. There are folks who’ve gained influence in Galatia teaching that in you have to keep the whole law of Moses in order to be right with God and to be a part of the people of God. This includes the practice of circumcision.
Paul, in contrast, has carefully argued that no, on account of Jesus and his death and resurrection, keeping the law is no longer necessary. Rather, people–whether they be Jew or Gentile (meaning non-Jew)--are set right, and included in the people of God not through any kind of work, but through faith. Trust and loyalty to Jesus Christ.
Now, by the time picks up the pen himself, however, he turns towards what might be called the ad hominem. An attack on the character of his opponents. Not only have the Galatians been compelled by these false teachers towards circumcision rather than choosing it for themselves, Paul says. These false teacher are doing it for all the wrong reasons.
Wrong reason number one: they’re avoiding persecution. Jews have a special status in the Roman empire, what we might call a recognized religion, rather than a cult. These Christian come along, and they’re gathering converts not only from Jews but even the pagans–non-Jews, causing some trouble and angst. And though they are essentially Messianic Jews–they believe in a Jewish Messiah sent by the God of Israel–some of them like, Paul don’t require much of what it means to be counted as Jewish–meaning keeping the Law. So, these false teachers, Paul says, are luring folks into keeping the law just to save their own bacon. To keep the heat off that comes with being associated with Jesus and his cross. Essentially Paul’s accusing them of being sell-outs. Just to avoid cross-shaped persecution.
Avoiding persecution is wrong reason number one. Which is at least understandable. Who wants to be spat upon, kicked and thrown in jail?
Wrong reason number two is a bit more insidious: They don’t even actually care about keeping the Law, Paul says. They’re only pushing circumcision so they can “boast in your flesh.” How do I know? Paul asks. They only keep the law selectively. Because it’s all about reputation, it’s all about prestige. Numbers of converts. Proving how faithful, and good, and wise they must be for winning over so many. Which, as Paul says, really does just open them up to charges of hypocrisy for all the ways they aren’t as good as they ought to be.
In either case, Paul says, they’re just boasting in themselves. Which, as we’ll see, for Paul is antithetical to Jesus and his cross. And the whole Christian message.
Now, unless I’m mistaken, St. George’s is not the only congregation gathered here today that isn’t pushing circumcision for membership. It’d be real interesting if that weren’t the case, wouldn’t it? In that way we successfully avoid Paul’s critique.
It doesn’t mean, though, that we aren’t susceptible to his criticism in other ways.
We don’t know anything like persecution. But we can be rather sheepish about letting anyone see our Jesus card. Part of it’s because somebody might think we’re one of those Christians. We’re–rightly–tired of being lumped in with mean and politicized un-Christ-like public Christianity. But another part of it is that a lot of the stuff we believe in our post-Christian society can seem rather embarrassing. Forget the existence of some sort of source of all being. That’s nothing compared to an authoritative holy book, miracles, virgin births, or a God-Man being raised from the dead. Not to mention the forgiveness of sins.
Honestly, many of our churches are already hurting, shrinking, so it makes a lot of sense. It’s just another strike against us in the eyes of those who Friedrich Schleiermacher called the “cultured despisers of religion.” Even so, like Paul’s adversaries in Galatia who–with circumcision–are making their movement more palatable–we have a way of dialing things down to avoid embarrassment or ostracization. Saying “this is all very normal, rational and reasonable stuff that fits in perfectly fine with secular modernity.” Don’t let the cross on the building fool you.
On the other hand, if we’re not embarrassed, we can be boastful in the wrong way. Like, look how faithful and good we are. Look how well our church is doing. Could be baptisms, or children’s programs, or the success of our social justice ministries. How good our preacher is, or how righteous our politics can be. Could be look at how inclusive we are, or on the flip side how orthodox we are. Might not be number of circumcisions we’re counting. But we have our own fleshy boasts, too.
And yet, as Paul points out, when we boast in ourselves we–like his Galatian adversaries–easily open ourselves up to accusations of hypocrisy. Truthfully, when people get up close they can see that we’re not actually that great, that so much like other people in most ways. Don’t get me wrong–I LOVE the church both little-c and big C. I believe it is the #1 instrument for God’s mission in the world. But if our whole thing is premised on just how wonderful, amazing and near-perfect we are, then we’re just setting ourselves and other people for disappointment. Because as soon as people can see who we really are, warts and all. It’s more or less over.
We may not be so keen on circumcision like the Galatians. But in our desire to avoid discomfort and judgment, to appear socially respectable or institutionally successful, we are just susceptible to the kind of boasting Paul talks about
But there is a better way. A “more excellent way” as Paul might say.
Which brings us to verses 14-16, which one scholar calls “the rhetorical heart of the letter.” Like, the whole point is here in a few sentences.
“May I never boast of anything,” Paul says.
“May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord, Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything; but a new creation is everything!”
Of course, you’d think the last thing Christians are supposed to do is be boastful. Believe it or not, not, though, this “more excellent way” involves boasting. Albeit boasting of a different sort. Boasting in the cross.
What does it mean to “boast in the cross?” I mean, clearly Paul isn’t talking about boasting about being a Christian to puff himself u
p and impress his neighbours. Nor is it masochistic reveling—like, look how great this suffering is.
No, what he’s doing is pointing away from himself to God. To what Jesus has done on the cross.
You see, for Paul, the crucifixion isn’t just a matter of injustice run amok–though it is. And it also isn’t only a mechanism for the forgiveness of sin–which it also is. But it’s more than that. It’s bigger than that. It’s as big as it gets.
The word Paul uses here is cosmos. The old world of violence and hatred. The world of sin, death and evil. The world as we know it in all its fallenness and brokenness. Cruelty and injustice, falsehood and deception. Human set against human, nation against nation into eternity. THAT world, that cosmos is effectively over. It was put to death with Jesus on the cross. With Jesus the old world, the world as we know it, was put to death.
And not only did the old world die, a whole new world was planted in its place. What Paul calls the “New Creation.” Now, what does he mean by that–”New Creation”? Is it what we say when we say we “go to heaven”? That when we die our souls leave our bodies and take up residence in another realm? No… this is one of the great misunderstandings of the Bible and Christian tradition. The images the Bible uses are the desert sprouting life. The heavenly city coming down. God dwelling among mortals. A new heavens and a new earth. Not an escape from this world, but the total renewal of all things.
And Jesus—he plays the central role. In him, all things hang together. His resurrection–that’s not just a dead body coming back to life. But as Paul says elsewhere, Jesus is the “first fruits.” But he’s God’s down payment, he’s the divine promise to us. Not only of our own destiny, but the destiny of the whole universe. He’s the new creation touching down, setting the stage for all the rest.
For Paul, it makes all the other stuff everybody’s hanging their hat on look small, look like nothing in comparison. This, not a law or an education, is what’s changed everything for him. Made him a new person. Made him put his life on the line enduring imprisonment, beating, trials, and even death. Circumcision, uncircumcision–who cares? In management speak, Paul is “keeping the main thing the main thing.” You want something to boast about? Paul says. Look to the cross, and empty tomb.
This is what’s captured Paul’s imagination. And this is what the Christian message is all about. The beautiful future where God is all in all. Experienced first here and now.
I know it’s hard. I know it’s easy for us to lose heart as church. It can be so tempting for us to lose nerve, to dial down the Jesus and shy away in a culture that is–if not hostile to us–increasingly indifferent. And it can also be tempting to look for renewal within ourselves, to puff ourselves up and to boast in our own flesh. Believe me–I’m preaching to myself as much as I am to you this morning.
All that’s a dead end, but thank God it’s also not the end. It’s so easy to be hopeless. But we’ve already been given this hope. Paul’s just reminding us of what we already know. It’s in our scriptures, in our DNA.
Not meaninglessness or moralism. Not an escape hatch from this world to some other one in the heavens. Not just a program for personal improvement or a challenge for social change, though these things do often indeed follow faith. But a New Creation! New Creation.
Nothing else, nothing can give us the same kind of satisfaction, nor can anything else measure up to its truth, beauty or goodness. The promise of the gospel is so much more. It’s the end of the old world of suffering, violence, and injustice, and the renewal, the transformation of all things. Heaven and earth coming together in one final, enfolding the universe, the world, the cosmos itself–including us–in its everlasting embrace. A promise, a living hope, which—following brother Paul—we can stake our lives on.
This is what we’re here for. This is the gift that we, the church, have been given.
We need not be ashamed of the gospel, dear friends. We need not pretend we’re something we’re not. We don’t need to sell ourselves or boast in ourselves, because we’ve been given the only thing that’s really worth boasting about in the end—the cross of Christ, where the old world was put to death; and the New Creation that has broken into our world in his resurrection.
Because our lives flow on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.
Hearing that sweet, though far off hymn that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife,
We can hear that music ringing: It finds an echo in our souls - how can we keep from singing?
This is what matters. New Creation! This is our precious treasure. Our pearl of great price. that’s so beautiful and wonderful, and life-giving that not only believing it, but sharing it’s worth all the embarrassment and the risk it entails.
Sing, brothers and sisters, sing!
May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers and sisters.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.