Righteous God, you rule the nations.
Guard brave men and women,
Who risk themselves in battle for their country.
Give them compassion for all.
Give them hope for the nations in which they serve.
Keep our sons and daughters from hate that hardens, but fill them with the fruits of the Spirit: faith, hope, and love.
Though they must be at war, let them live for peace,
As eager for peace as for victory.
Encourage them as they encourage one another, and never let hard duty separate them from loyalty to your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ.
When all of us, here, safe at home, see this flag that we raise today, remind us of those who have fought and died for what it represents; remind us of those who serve in far away places for our sake. Help us to keep them in our hearts, that though they are separated from us, often by oceans of worry and fear, we might always be unified by a common faith in your son.
Holy Lord, look after our sons and daughter.
Keep them ever in your sight, watching over them that they might come home to us safe and sound.
Amen.[1]
[1] This prayer draws on a prayer from the Book of Common Worship (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993) 818.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
What Does the Lord Require?
Mark 12: 38-44, page 718
As he taught, Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted in the marketplaces, and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets.
They devour widow’s houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. Such people will be punished most severely.”
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth. This poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything – all she had to live on.”
Sermon
“Such people will be punished most severely,” Jesus says.
My goodness – they sound like a bunch of jerks too – always wearing those flowing robes like they’re something special – always sitting up front in the sanctuary for everyone to see them.
Sounds like you’re in big trouble choir.
But the truth is this passage isn’t an indictment of the synagogue choir, the teachers of the law were the ones who stood up in front of everybody, read scripture and interpreted those ancient words that the crowds might apply the Word of God to their lives.
They were uniquely powerful then, as no one could question what they were saying or how they interpreted the Bible, as no one else could read.
However – it’s almost the same power that all ministers have now, not because people can’t read the Bible, but because most of the time they just don’t choose to!
So you have ministers all over the place emphasizing the parts of the Bible that they want to emphasize, claiming to be pointing their flock in the direction of the most important parts – but really, who knows?
However, there’s no explaining away or avoiding our passage for today. It’s quite clear.
Should I abuse my authority – taking advantage of those who trust me to know the scripture – I can expect to be punished most severely.
As those poor widows having no knowledge of how to deal with their homes or property, were signing everything away to teachers of the law who they trusted – and they really have no recourse, because without a husband there is no one to help them understand what they are signing – and more than that, as illiterate, they can’t even read what they are signing for themselves. What we have in this passage is a strong case for literacy, because the ability to read a contract is pure power, that unchecked turns into corruption.
Such has always been the case, new immigrants taken advantage of, signing contracts they can’t understand, and forced to trust the untrustworthy to explain it all to them.
It’s a wonder then, that Christ, the man who stormed the temple, knew its abuses first hand, didn’t stop this poor woman from giving away her last two coins to an establishment he knew wouldn’t use her money responsibly.
What I want to know is why doesn’t he stop this poor woman before she spends her last two coins on the pastor’s flowing robe fund?
Why doesn’t he direct her towards some better use of her money – saying something like, “No don’t give your money to them, don’t you see it will just go to pay the CEO’s salary – give your money to the homeless shelter down the street – your money will go directly to the people who need it.”
Or better yet, “Keep your money. You need those two coins much more than the synagogue does. God knows your heart, and God doesn’t want you to go hungry.”
But that’s not what Jesus does.
Jesus doesn’t stop her from giving those last two coins away.
Jesus seems to know how important it is to accept a gift; how sometimes it is most important to let someone say, “Thank you.”
You remember the time a woman came in and anointed his feet with oil, oil precious and valuable poured out on his feet. Everyone was whispering, “Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages, and the money given to the poor.”
“Leave her alone,” Jesus said, “She has done a beautiful thing.”
I think it must have made Jesus feel guilty to watch this widow give her last two coins away – it may have even made him angry as he knew what those coins would go to pay for - but he lets her do it as he must have known why she would give, even her last two coins.
That she wasn’t concerned with helping pay for the teacher’s new robes.
That she certainly wasn’t about making a show of her generosity. It’s not clear that anyone even noticed besides Jesus.
And though then, like now, there were probably religious leaders telling her that if she gave her money to the church she could expect a great reward, I don’t think it’s likely that this woman thought she would be getting something in return for her show of faith.
In fact, while Jesus is clear about how the teachers of the law will be punished, there’s no mention of how this faithful widow is going to be rewarded.
It doesn’t say that she gets a new husband because of her faith.
It doesn’t say that on her way home she uncovers a treasure chest full of gold.
It doesn’t say even that in the next life she will be treated like a queen – there’s no mention of any reward at all.
What we readers are left to assume is that she’s already received her reward and that now she gives to show her thanks to God.
Sometimes it takes losing everything to appreciate what we have – and I assume that while he was alive this poor widow complained about toilet seats left up, mayonnaise jars left out on the counter, too much money spent on loose living – but now that he’s gone all she can do is think about what a blessing from God it was to have met someone who she could love and who loved her in return. She can’t give her husband that one last gift to show him how much he meant, but she could thank God for him and so she puts in her two last coins.
And what a blessing it was to have her friends gather around her as she wept, casseroles brought over, visits made – how could she ever thank all those who prayed and prayed that he would get better? They would never accept her gift, but she could thank God for them, and so she puts in her two last coins.
Then to hear words of assurance, that this good-bye isn’t really a good-bye, as the preacher said they’d meet again on some far off shore. How could she ever thank the writers of scripture for giving those assuring words, how could she ever thank the choir for singing those promises of God, how could she ever thank God for making those promises true? Who would accept her gift? No one would allow her to give her last two coins away, but she so wanted to thank God for what she’d received and so she puts in her two last coins.
What I learn today from this widow is not what it means to sacrifice, not what it means to give until it hurts, but what it means to say “Thanks.”
Like her, today we sit in this place where God is present, but I’m worried we’ve all been sitting here so long we forgot what a special place this is.
In the years I was in seminary, Sara and I floated from church to church, every Sunday checking the square, “I’d like to speak to a pastor,” but no pastor ever called.
The Sunday we visited this church, we first received a gift bag, the next day there was a fresh loaf of bread on our front door, and two days later Roy Brown was on the phone ready to visit us and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
How many places are there in this world where you show up and actually feel like you matter?
Three years ago, when I had just started serving this church as your associate pastor, I remember walking into this sanctuary on the first Sunday of Advent, fighting off tears because as soon as I heard the choir and all of you singing, I knew that I was blessed to have been called to a church where the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ was an occasion worth celebrating with joy.
Where else is the good news read and sung, where else are the promises of God heard that you might be encouraged, empowered, and strengthened to live life.
I don’t know what your experience of this place has been, but I hope and pray that it won’t take a great loss to fully appreciate what all God has blessed you with in this place.
So don’t wait for that day. Today is the day to give like the widow, not because it’s easy, but because when you really think about it, there’s nothing else to do – there’s no other way to respond than to respond in thanks for this gift that you have received.
Give thanks to God for this place today – not because you should, not because you’ll be rewarded – but because this church is a gift from God to you, and it’s time to for you to say “Thanks.”
-Amen.
As he taught, Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted in the marketplaces, and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets.
They devour widow’s houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. Such people will be punished most severely.”
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth. This poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything – all she had to live on.”
Sermon
“Such people will be punished most severely,” Jesus says.
My goodness – they sound like a bunch of jerks too – always wearing those flowing robes like they’re something special – always sitting up front in the sanctuary for everyone to see them.
Sounds like you’re in big trouble choir.
But the truth is this passage isn’t an indictment of the synagogue choir, the teachers of the law were the ones who stood up in front of everybody, read scripture and interpreted those ancient words that the crowds might apply the Word of God to their lives.
They were uniquely powerful then, as no one could question what they were saying or how they interpreted the Bible, as no one else could read.
However – it’s almost the same power that all ministers have now, not because people can’t read the Bible, but because most of the time they just don’t choose to!
So you have ministers all over the place emphasizing the parts of the Bible that they want to emphasize, claiming to be pointing their flock in the direction of the most important parts – but really, who knows?
However, there’s no explaining away or avoiding our passage for today. It’s quite clear.
Should I abuse my authority – taking advantage of those who trust me to know the scripture – I can expect to be punished most severely.
As those poor widows having no knowledge of how to deal with their homes or property, were signing everything away to teachers of the law who they trusted – and they really have no recourse, because without a husband there is no one to help them understand what they are signing – and more than that, as illiterate, they can’t even read what they are signing for themselves. What we have in this passage is a strong case for literacy, because the ability to read a contract is pure power, that unchecked turns into corruption.
Such has always been the case, new immigrants taken advantage of, signing contracts they can’t understand, and forced to trust the untrustworthy to explain it all to them.
It’s a wonder then, that Christ, the man who stormed the temple, knew its abuses first hand, didn’t stop this poor woman from giving away her last two coins to an establishment he knew wouldn’t use her money responsibly.
What I want to know is why doesn’t he stop this poor woman before she spends her last two coins on the pastor’s flowing robe fund?
Why doesn’t he direct her towards some better use of her money – saying something like, “No don’t give your money to them, don’t you see it will just go to pay the CEO’s salary – give your money to the homeless shelter down the street – your money will go directly to the people who need it.”
Or better yet, “Keep your money. You need those two coins much more than the synagogue does. God knows your heart, and God doesn’t want you to go hungry.”
But that’s not what Jesus does.
Jesus doesn’t stop her from giving those last two coins away.
Jesus seems to know how important it is to accept a gift; how sometimes it is most important to let someone say, “Thank you.”
You remember the time a woman came in and anointed his feet with oil, oil precious and valuable poured out on his feet. Everyone was whispering, “Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages, and the money given to the poor.”
“Leave her alone,” Jesus said, “She has done a beautiful thing.”
I think it must have made Jesus feel guilty to watch this widow give her last two coins away – it may have even made him angry as he knew what those coins would go to pay for - but he lets her do it as he must have known why she would give, even her last two coins.
That she wasn’t concerned with helping pay for the teacher’s new robes.
That she certainly wasn’t about making a show of her generosity. It’s not clear that anyone even noticed besides Jesus.
And though then, like now, there were probably religious leaders telling her that if she gave her money to the church she could expect a great reward, I don’t think it’s likely that this woman thought she would be getting something in return for her show of faith.
In fact, while Jesus is clear about how the teachers of the law will be punished, there’s no mention of how this faithful widow is going to be rewarded.
It doesn’t say that she gets a new husband because of her faith.
It doesn’t say that on her way home she uncovers a treasure chest full of gold.
It doesn’t say even that in the next life she will be treated like a queen – there’s no mention of any reward at all.
What we readers are left to assume is that she’s already received her reward and that now she gives to show her thanks to God.
Sometimes it takes losing everything to appreciate what we have – and I assume that while he was alive this poor widow complained about toilet seats left up, mayonnaise jars left out on the counter, too much money spent on loose living – but now that he’s gone all she can do is think about what a blessing from God it was to have met someone who she could love and who loved her in return. She can’t give her husband that one last gift to show him how much he meant, but she could thank God for him and so she puts in her two last coins.
And what a blessing it was to have her friends gather around her as she wept, casseroles brought over, visits made – how could she ever thank all those who prayed and prayed that he would get better? They would never accept her gift, but she could thank God for them, and so she puts in her two last coins.
Then to hear words of assurance, that this good-bye isn’t really a good-bye, as the preacher said they’d meet again on some far off shore. How could she ever thank the writers of scripture for giving those assuring words, how could she ever thank the choir for singing those promises of God, how could she ever thank God for making those promises true? Who would accept her gift? No one would allow her to give her last two coins away, but she so wanted to thank God for what she’d received and so she puts in her two last coins.
What I learn today from this widow is not what it means to sacrifice, not what it means to give until it hurts, but what it means to say “Thanks.”
Like her, today we sit in this place where God is present, but I’m worried we’ve all been sitting here so long we forgot what a special place this is.
In the years I was in seminary, Sara and I floated from church to church, every Sunday checking the square, “I’d like to speak to a pastor,” but no pastor ever called.
The Sunday we visited this church, we first received a gift bag, the next day there was a fresh loaf of bread on our front door, and two days later Roy Brown was on the phone ready to visit us and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
How many places are there in this world where you show up and actually feel like you matter?
Three years ago, when I had just started serving this church as your associate pastor, I remember walking into this sanctuary on the first Sunday of Advent, fighting off tears because as soon as I heard the choir and all of you singing, I knew that I was blessed to have been called to a church where the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ was an occasion worth celebrating with joy.
Where else is the good news read and sung, where else are the promises of God heard that you might be encouraged, empowered, and strengthened to live life.
I don’t know what your experience of this place has been, but I hope and pray that it won’t take a great loss to fully appreciate what all God has blessed you with in this place.
So don’t wait for that day. Today is the day to give like the widow, not because it’s easy, but because when you really think about it, there’s nothing else to do – there’s no other way to respond than to respond in thanks for this gift that you have received.
Give thanks to God for this place today – not because you should, not because you’ll be rewarded – but because this church is a gift from God to you, and it’s time to for you to say “Thanks.”
-Amen.
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Last Word
John 11: 32-44, page 761
When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see Lord,” they replied.
Jesus wept.
Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said.
“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”
Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”
When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.
Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”
Sermon
There is a new book out by Dan Brown, an author whose book The da Vinci Code was greeted with widespread popularity as well as widespread controversy. His new book, The Lost Symbol, takes place mostly in Washington DC, and deals with ideas about the human capacity for greatness.
His main character, Robert Langdon reflects on principles of the world’s great religions; how the Buddha said, ‘You are God yourself.’ Or how Jesus taught that ‘the kingdom of God is within you’ and even promised us, ‘the works I do, you can do… and greater.’[1]
Always on the look-out for conspiracies as he was in the da Vinci Code, Brown’s latest book sees these ideas about the human capacity for greater authority and power, all around Washington DC, present symbolically in our Nation’s Capitol’s greatest monuments.
And it’s possible to read these same ideas into the story that we are faced with today – that of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.
Jesus, deeply moved by the people around him, is able to raise a man from the dead, saying to Martha, the sister of the dead man, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
As though faith could elevate Martha to a higher realm of consciousness, where what seems impossible becomes possible – and we should be encouraged to go and do likewise - the works I do, you can do… and greater.
Our culture may just be pushing us in this direction – as all around us are people challenging their humanness, fighting to become larger than life, to find a way out of poverty and into great wealth, to escape being normal by getting noticed and admired by peers, to ascend above the crowd to stand boldly under the limelight of celebrity.
We don’t like being normal, so we try our best to rise above.
We don’t want to be another Joe six-pack so we try for American Idol.
We don’t want to be hurt, so we put on a face of strong resolve.
We don’t want to be rejected so we pretend not to care.
And sometimes we follow this Jesus, thinking that he’ll help us get where we need to go – that he’ll set us apart and high up on a hill to be a shining light to the world, no longer imprisoned by the world, but set free.
It’d be good to avoid the not so nice parts of being human.
Avoid sadness, self-loathing, illness, age, and death – just rise above it all.
We are chained to these mortal bodies, flawed and limited, doomed to experience human emotion and grief – our savior should come to show us how to ascend above it all.
Maybe that’s what Mary was thinking when fell at his feet mourning the loss of her brother, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She assumed that he would have prevented it from happening – if only he’d been there sooner.
But this way of thinking misses a point made prominent by two simple words here in our scripture lesson for today. Verse 35 is the shortest verse in the Bible, but it says all that we ever wanted to know: “Jesus wept.”
To this show of emotion, some said, “See how he loved him;” But others said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man from dying?”
I think this is the question that we all ask.
If this Jesus were so great, then why is there still death? Why do we lose people who we love?
Jesus doesn’t stop Lazarus from dying, but stays away while death’s shadow closes in, and the stone covers the mouth of his burial cave.
4 days pass and we wonder why – why he had to go – why he had to leave us – why he wasn’t spared.
Limited then we might say – or insufficient. And many did - others saw weakness, vulnerability. So many others never even wondered if this man was who he said he was as God must certainly have power over death if God can give the blind their sight.
But this God who weeps doesn’t avoid death himself – and in this death we know that God didn’t come to earth to avoid the pain of human life, to avoid that most prominent feeling of loss, forgo that thing that we all fear the most – dying – but to face death himself, and to face it with human tears.
And just as Lazarus’ body was placed in the tomb, we placed him in the tomb.
And then the tomb was sealed – and the shadow fell.
But just when we thought death would have the last word, we hear the words: “Lazarus, come out!”
These words that break the silence, that shine a light that even the shadow of death cannot extinguish, come from one who did not spare himself, could have risen above, could have avoided it all, but choose to share our grief, share our limitations, share our fear, and even die himself that death while not avoided, might forever be concurred and forever prevented from having the last word, as the last word on death is not silence, but “Lazarus, come out!”
Today we remember men and women whom we have lost in the last year – and as we remember what we have lost, also remember this truth – that Christ, though divine, shares in your grief; and that Christ, though immortal, took on our human limitations that you might never face the shadow of death alone, trusting that the last word will not come from death, but from Christ, the one who has taken from death her sting.
-Amen.
[1] Ibid. 492.
When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see Lord,” they replied.
Jesus wept.
Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said.
“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”
Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”
When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.
Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”
Sermon
There is a new book out by Dan Brown, an author whose book The da Vinci Code was greeted with widespread popularity as well as widespread controversy. His new book, The Lost Symbol, takes place mostly in Washington DC, and deals with ideas about the human capacity for greatness.
His main character, Robert Langdon reflects on principles of the world’s great religions; how the Buddha said, ‘You are God yourself.’ Or how Jesus taught that ‘the kingdom of God is within you’ and even promised us, ‘the works I do, you can do… and greater.’[1]
Always on the look-out for conspiracies as he was in the da Vinci Code, Brown’s latest book sees these ideas about the human capacity for greater authority and power, all around Washington DC, present symbolically in our Nation’s Capitol’s greatest monuments.
And it’s possible to read these same ideas into the story that we are faced with today – that of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.
Jesus, deeply moved by the people around him, is able to raise a man from the dead, saying to Martha, the sister of the dead man, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
As though faith could elevate Martha to a higher realm of consciousness, where what seems impossible becomes possible – and we should be encouraged to go and do likewise - the works I do, you can do… and greater.
Our culture may just be pushing us in this direction – as all around us are people challenging their humanness, fighting to become larger than life, to find a way out of poverty and into great wealth, to escape being normal by getting noticed and admired by peers, to ascend above the crowd to stand boldly under the limelight of celebrity.
We don’t like being normal, so we try our best to rise above.
We don’t want to be another Joe six-pack so we try for American Idol.
We don’t want to be hurt, so we put on a face of strong resolve.
We don’t want to be rejected so we pretend not to care.
And sometimes we follow this Jesus, thinking that he’ll help us get where we need to go – that he’ll set us apart and high up on a hill to be a shining light to the world, no longer imprisoned by the world, but set free.
It’d be good to avoid the not so nice parts of being human.
Avoid sadness, self-loathing, illness, age, and death – just rise above it all.
We are chained to these mortal bodies, flawed and limited, doomed to experience human emotion and grief – our savior should come to show us how to ascend above it all.
Maybe that’s what Mary was thinking when fell at his feet mourning the loss of her brother, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She assumed that he would have prevented it from happening – if only he’d been there sooner.
But this way of thinking misses a point made prominent by two simple words here in our scripture lesson for today. Verse 35 is the shortest verse in the Bible, but it says all that we ever wanted to know: “Jesus wept.”
To this show of emotion, some said, “See how he loved him;” But others said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man from dying?”
I think this is the question that we all ask.
If this Jesus were so great, then why is there still death? Why do we lose people who we love?
Jesus doesn’t stop Lazarus from dying, but stays away while death’s shadow closes in, and the stone covers the mouth of his burial cave.
4 days pass and we wonder why – why he had to go – why he had to leave us – why he wasn’t spared.
Limited then we might say – or insufficient. And many did - others saw weakness, vulnerability. So many others never even wondered if this man was who he said he was as God must certainly have power over death if God can give the blind their sight.
But this God who weeps doesn’t avoid death himself – and in this death we know that God didn’t come to earth to avoid the pain of human life, to avoid that most prominent feeling of loss, forgo that thing that we all fear the most – dying – but to face death himself, and to face it with human tears.
And just as Lazarus’ body was placed in the tomb, we placed him in the tomb.
And then the tomb was sealed – and the shadow fell.
But just when we thought death would have the last word, we hear the words: “Lazarus, come out!”
These words that break the silence, that shine a light that even the shadow of death cannot extinguish, come from one who did not spare himself, could have risen above, could have avoided it all, but choose to share our grief, share our limitations, share our fear, and even die himself that death while not avoided, might forever be concurred and forever prevented from having the last word, as the last word on death is not silence, but “Lazarus, come out!”
Today we remember men and women whom we have lost in the last year – and as we remember what we have lost, also remember this truth – that Christ, though divine, shares in your grief; and that Christ, though immortal, took on our human limitations that you might never face the shadow of death alone, trusting that the last word will not come from death, but from Christ, the one who has taken from death her sting.
-Amen.
[1] Ibid. 492.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
O Bless Your Heart
Mark 10: 13-31, page 716
People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.
As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him.
“Good Teacher,” he asked, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good – except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do no murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.’”
“Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
Jesus looked at him and loved him.
“One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad because he had great wealth.
Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!”
The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle then for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”
The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
Peter said to him, “We have left everything to follow you!”
“I tell you the truth,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sister or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields – and with them persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”
Sermon
Jesus says, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
Now what Jesus means here is up for your own interpretation – as the quality of children that Jesus sees as vital for entering the kingdom is not clearly stated.
Some would say that children, unlike adults don’t see race or nationality, and so aren’t susceptible to the prejudices that afflict their older counterparts – so it could be that in seeing all people as equal children are to be emulated. Others would say that to enter the kingdom of God you must become innocent like a child, while still others would look to some instance of children sharing toys and come to the conclusion that you must become selfless like a child, sharing what you have.
Before deciding which quality it is that Jesus is talking about, let me remind you that there’s a word to describe people who use words like “without prejudice” “innocent,” or “selfless,” to describe children: “Delusional.”
As far as prejudice goes, if our daughter Lily could deport all men with beards I know that she wouldn’t hesitate – she has come to the early conclusion that they are not to be trusted, even her bearded grandfather is not to be trusted at all.
And though our little Lily can’t talk yet, she communicates in high pitched squeals and urrrr, but I hear her quite clearly when she demands, “I want my bottle and I want my bottle now! Not in 5 minutes – not when you’re done writing your sermon – NOW!”
So I get it for her – as children are many wonderful things, but above all else, children are dependent, completely and utterly dependent on those bigger and more powerful for their well-being.
Interesting then, that Jesus would urge his followers to emulate children.
But regardless of the peculiar nature of his teachings, people came to Jesus that he might lead them on the path to eternal life. “Good teacher,” a rich man asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good – except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.’”
“Teacher,” the rich man declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
Before scripture tells us Jesus’ response to this statement, the author of the Gospel of Mark wants you to know that, “Jesus looked - at this rich man who has apparently never sinned in his entire life - and loved him.”
Now the writer of Mark wrote in Greek about a Palestinian Jew named Jesus who spoke Aramaic, a language that never developed its own literary tradition, but remained an oral derivation of Hebrew only. So these words, first retained as a spoken story told in Aramaic, then translated and written down in Greek, were then translated into English to form the words, “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” So it’s possible then, that what we have is a mistranslation of how Jesus actually looked, how Jesus actually felt. In fact, I’m confident that what the author of Mark meant to use to describe Jesus here is an expression Grandmothers in the South say often when their grandchildren do something stupid but they’re too naive to know any better – if this event here with the rich man were taking place here in Lilburn, and Jesus were not a Palestinian Jew but a Gwinnett County Grandmother then the words would not be, “Jesus looked at him and loved him;” but, “Jesus looked at him and said, well bless your heart.”
What the author of Mark didn’t take the time to write down, I assume he just ran out of parchment, was that, “after looking at the young man and loving him, Jesus said to Peter under his breath, this guy thinks he’s never sinned! Can you believe that?”
This rich man goes to Jesus asking, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life.”
What must I do?
As though this rich man could pull himself up by his bootstraps right up into the kingdom of God. As though he didn’t need anyone to help, as though he could do it all himself, as though he were all grown-up, self-sufficient, and self-secure.
But here is an independence based on an illusion – an illusion provided by the perceived security of affluence – for wealth convinces us all to believe the lie that we are not children dependent on God – we are not dependent on anyone or anything.
Wealth closes our eyes to the insecurity of human existence.
The rich man can’t seem to face this fact – that those fields that provide him so much income would be bear, dry ground, if it were not for the God who provides the rain.
That his property would not be nearly so beautiful and valuable if it were not for the God who prevented the river from rising above her banks – at least most of the time.
And that his life would not be so pleasurable if it were not for God – who keeps that heart inside this man's chest beating – if it were not for God who provides him air to breath and eyes to take in the majesty of creation.
So Jesus asks him to give up his wealth willingly that he might figure it out.
But we’re not always so lucky. We feel safe in our nice houses – but then the water rises and we face the fact that we are victims to the whims of powers bigger and stronger than ourselves.
We feel secure with money in the bank – but should the job market dry up, stock prices drop – should powers out of our control choose to shift the winds of favor - how self-sufficient do you feel now?
We feel as though we may just live-forever – but who knows when the heart that beats in our chest might just stop beating?
So Jesus addresses the disciples as children, not because they are innocent, kind, or unblemished by the prejudices of the day, but because we are not in control of our lives – though we are often blinded to it – we are more like children then we like to admit.
And the rich man isn’t ready to admit it.
He isn’t sick – so he doesn’t need Jesus to heal him – and so he walks away.
He isn’t poor – so he doesn’t need Jesus to feed him – and so he walks away.
He came to Jesus looking for some wisdom – calling him “good teacher” – but when Jesus couldn’t offer him anything, besides urging him to face his own limitation – he just walked away.
“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”
How hard it is – but it’s not just hard. It’s impossible.
It’s impossible for you to do it on your own. But the rich man thought otherwise – Good teacher, what must “I” do to inherit eternal life. So you see - the rich man wasn’t looking for a savior either – so he walks away.
Some would say he walked away doomed – but he’s no more doomed than any of us.
For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. It’s impossible in fact. “But not with God; all things are possible with God.”
So give thanks for the one who intercedes on your behalf.
Who grants you the salvation that you cannot earn on your own.
Praise God for the high priest – the one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart and exalted above the heavens.
For he is no good teacher – he is your savior.
Thanks be to God.
-Amen.
People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.
As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him.
“Good Teacher,” he asked, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good – except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do no murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.’”
“Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
Jesus looked at him and loved him.
“One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad because he had great wealth.
Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!”
The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle then for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”
The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
Peter said to him, “We have left everything to follow you!”
“I tell you the truth,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sister or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields – and with them persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”
Sermon
Jesus says, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
Now what Jesus means here is up for your own interpretation – as the quality of children that Jesus sees as vital for entering the kingdom is not clearly stated.
Some would say that children, unlike adults don’t see race or nationality, and so aren’t susceptible to the prejudices that afflict their older counterparts – so it could be that in seeing all people as equal children are to be emulated. Others would say that to enter the kingdom of God you must become innocent like a child, while still others would look to some instance of children sharing toys and come to the conclusion that you must become selfless like a child, sharing what you have.
Before deciding which quality it is that Jesus is talking about, let me remind you that there’s a word to describe people who use words like “without prejudice” “innocent,” or “selfless,” to describe children: “Delusional.”
As far as prejudice goes, if our daughter Lily could deport all men with beards I know that she wouldn’t hesitate – she has come to the early conclusion that they are not to be trusted, even her bearded grandfather is not to be trusted at all.
And though our little Lily can’t talk yet, she communicates in high pitched squeals and urrrr, but I hear her quite clearly when she demands, “I want my bottle and I want my bottle now! Not in 5 minutes – not when you’re done writing your sermon – NOW!”
So I get it for her – as children are many wonderful things, but above all else, children are dependent, completely and utterly dependent on those bigger and more powerful for their well-being.
Interesting then, that Jesus would urge his followers to emulate children.
But regardless of the peculiar nature of his teachings, people came to Jesus that he might lead them on the path to eternal life. “Good teacher,” a rich man asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good – except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.’”
“Teacher,” the rich man declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
Before scripture tells us Jesus’ response to this statement, the author of the Gospel of Mark wants you to know that, “Jesus looked - at this rich man who has apparently never sinned in his entire life - and loved him.”
Now the writer of Mark wrote in Greek about a Palestinian Jew named Jesus who spoke Aramaic, a language that never developed its own literary tradition, but remained an oral derivation of Hebrew only. So these words, first retained as a spoken story told in Aramaic, then translated and written down in Greek, were then translated into English to form the words, “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” So it’s possible then, that what we have is a mistranslation of how Jesus actually looked, how Jesus actually felt. In fact, I’m confident that what the author of Mark meant to use to describe Jesus here is an expression Grandmothers in the South say often when their grandchildren do something stupid but they’re too naive to know any better – if this event here with the rich man were taking place here in Lilburn, and Jesus were not a Palestinian Jew but a Gwinnett County Grandmother then the words would not be, “Jesus looked at him and loved him;” but, “Jesus looked at him and said, well bless your heart.”
What the author of Mark didn’t take the time to write down, I assume he just ran out of parchment, was that, “after looking at the young man and loving him, Jesus said to Peter under his breath, this guy thinks he’s never sinned! Can you believe that?”
This rich man goes to Jesus asking, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life.”
What must I do?
As though this rich man could pull himself up by his bootstraps right up into the kingdom of God. As though he didn’t need anyone to help, as though he could do it all himself, as though he were all grown-up, self-sufficient, and self-secure.
But here is an independence based on an illusion – an illusion provided by the perceived security of affluence – for wealth convinces us all to believe the lie that we are not children dependent on God – we are not dependent on anyone or anything.
Wealth closes our eyes to the insecurity of human existence.
The rich man can’t seem to face this fact – that those fields that provide him so much income would be bear, dry ground, if it were not for the God who provides the rain.
That his property would not be nearly so beautiful and valuable if it were not for the God who prevented the river from rising above her banks – at least most of the time.
And that his life would not be so pleasurable if it were not for God – who keeps that heart inside this man's chest beating – if it were not for God who provides him air to breath and eyes to take in the majesty of creation.
So Jesus asks him to give up his wealth willingly that he might figure it out.
But we’re not always so lucky. We feel safe in our nice houses – but then the water rises and we face the fact that we are victims to the whims of powers bigger and stronger than ourselves.
We feel secure with money in the bank – but should the job market dry up, stock prices drop – should powers out of our control choose to shift the winds of favor - how self-sufficient do you feel now?
We feel as though we may just live-forever – but who knows when the heart that beats in our chest might just stop beating?
So Jesus addresses the disciples as children, not because they are innocent, kind, or unblemished by the prejudices of the day, but because we are not in control of our lives – though we are often blinded to it – we are more like children then we like to admit.
And the rich man isn’t ready to admit it.
He isn’t sick – so he doesn’t need Jesus to heal him – and so he walks away.
He isn’t poor – so he doesn’t need Jesus to feed him – and so he walks away.
He came to Jesus looking for some wisdom – calling him “good teacher” – but when Jesus couldn’t offer him anything, besides urging him to face his own limitation – he just walked away.
“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”
How hard it is – but it’s not just hard. It’s impossible.
It’s impossible for you to do it on your own. But the rich man thought otherwise – Good teacher, what must “I” do to inherit eternal life. So you see - the rich man wasn’t looking for a savior either – so he walks away.
Some would say he walked away doomed – but he’s no more doomed than any of us.
For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. It’s impossible in fact. “But not with God; all things are possible with God.”
So give thanks for the one who intercedes on your behalf.
Who grants you the salvation that you cannot earn on your own.
Praise God for the high priest – the one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart and exalted above the heavens.
For he is no good teacher – he is your savior.
Thanks be to God.
-Amen.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Out of the Storm
Job 38: 1-7 and 34-41 page 380
Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. The Lord said, “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.
“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone – while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?”
34-41
“Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water? Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom and gave understanding to the mind?
Who has the wisdom to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens when the dust becomes hard and the clods of earth stick together?
Do you hunt the prey for the lioness and satisfy the hunger of the lions when they crouch in their dens or lie in wait in a thicket?
Who provides food for the raven when it’s young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?"
Sermon
Words have a way at getting to the heart of matters, especially when they are formed into questions.
I still remember my childhood Sunday school teacher’s face the day we read about baby Jesus getting circumcised. “Um, Mrs. Smith, what exactly is circumcision?”
“That’s one you’ll have to ask your father when you get home.”
I didn’t really understand why she wouldn’t answer my question, but now I know this technique as an important tactic for deflecting questions it would be better not to answer.
It’s a technique employed by politicians all the time – so if you, like me, are wondering why Senators Saxby Chambliss and Harry Reid, along with Representative Charlie Rangel spent a total of over two hundred thousand dollars on golf, an inauguration party, and a self-portrait when their constituents are struggling to make ends meet…well, just don’t expect an answer anytime soon.[1]
But who would expect the same behavior from God?
God’s response to Job: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Who marked off its dimensions?” doesn’t answer Job’s question. Job finally meets God face to face after all his suffering, all his affliction, to question God and the fairness of the punishment he has undergone, and God deflects Job’s question, his question that gets at the timeless issue of, “Why do bad things happen to good people.”
Job hasn’t lost his faith. Job has been faithful, and all he wants is an answer.
In some ways silence would have been easier to understand – it would have shown Job that all his faith was in vain - but at least it would have been an answer he could have understood – that the world just isn’t fair, there’s no order to it, and there’s no point in trying to do what is right because there isn’t anyone watching – that there’s no one up there punishing the sinful and rewarding the faithful – as there isn’t really anyone up there at all.
Such is the conclusion many reach in the wake of tragedy – as asking why is the kind of question that rarely leads to resolution – so many people give up asking and give up believing at the same time.
When we consider the great tragedies of human history – the many examples of undeserved suffering – the slaughter of the southern Sudanese by the north, the murder of the Tutsi’s in Rwanda, how the dictator Pol-Pot imprisoned and tortured thousands of his own people in Cambodia; many Jews today who consider the Holocaust know either a God too weak to act or a God who was never really there at all.
The book I’m reading now, a work of fiction called The Book Thief takes place during this time period in a little town in Germany. The hero is a little girl named Liesel, an orphan taken in by an older couple after her father is murdered for being a communist and her mother just disappears all together. She is haunted by the memory of her brother’s death – every night taking her back to the dark day when he died in her arms.
Every night she sees into his empty eyes; it’s the sight of those eyes that scares her awake to find her foster father Hans Hubermann, who Liesel calls Papa, standing over her, stroking her hair or just sitting at her bedside.
On the day Liesel is old enough to connect the dots between the murder of her father, the disappearance of her mother, and the death of her brother, she shouts out to her foster father Hans, “I hate Hitler!”
Her Papa looks down at the ground, then meets his daughter’s gaze again without expression, and --- slaps this girl who he loves more than anything across the face.
In some ways, just about as cruel as a response as there could possibly be.
But how could Hans ever explain to a child the evil complexities of living in Nazi Germany?
A world where mothers disappear into the night, where brothers die in sisters’ arms, and hatred-fueled propaganda applauded while books burn.
Helping her understand was not the point. Keeping her safe was the point.
But this cold refusal, more than anything else is an apology, an apology from a man who would have changed the world for this little girl whom he loved, but only had the power to keep her lips sealed in a world where silence was safety.
You know it’s an apology and not the embodiment of anger, as his hand, once used to strike a silent fear, is back that night, and the next, and the night after that to comfort this young girl when her nightmares finally wake her up from a restless sleep. And we know that if the hands of her Papa could change the world, build up a safe place free from Hitler and his evil, they would.
But Job doesn’t want to be silent – and there’s nothing that God has done to keep him safe – what Job wants is an answer to the question he poses. God, however, knows that there comes a time when the answer to “why” can’t provide the healing that the afflicted really needs.
We want to know why – why is there suffering – why is there bloodshed – why do marriages end – why do children die before their parents – why is there war – why is there disease – why do hearts stop beating – why – why – why?
A God who hears these questions, then responds with more questions, is either a God too busy to mess with the trivial matter of a disgruntled human being – or a God dedicated to getting the faithful back to the business of living.
Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? No – and the reason the world is ordered this way is not for you to know.
Where were you when the sun was shining, and a little girl was pulling at your sleeve to go outside? This is your question to answer. Not where was God – where were you?
Were you still in bed while the world passed you by?
Were you still mourning what you lost, wishing it would have been different?
Were you so full of regret that you forgot to live?
Your place is not to ask why – your place is to live. Leave the rest to one who may not answer your question – but who will always be there, stroking your hair, sitting by your bedside, with you as the dawn breaks into a new day.
-Amen.
[1] Bob Keefe, “Leadership PACs keep cash flowing,” Atlanta Journal-Constitution (Tuesday, October 13, 2009) A1.
Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. The Lord said, “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.
“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone – while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?”
34-41
“Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water? Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom and gave understanding to the mind?
Who has the wisdom to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens when the dust becomes hard and the clods of earth stick together?
Do you hunt the prey for the lioness and satisfy the hunger of the lions when they crouch in their dens or lie in wait in a thicket?
Who provides food for the raven when it’s young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?"
Sermon
Words have a way at getting to the heart of matters, especially when they are formed into questions.
I still remember my childhood Sunday school teacher’s face the day we read about baby Jesus getting circumcised. “Um, Mrs. Smith, what exactly is circumcision?”
“That’s one you’ll have to ask your father when you get home.”
I didn’t really understand why she wouldn’t answer my question, but now I know this technique as an important tactic for deflecting questions it would be better not to answer.
It’s a technique employed by politicians all the time – so if you, like me, are wondering why Senators Saxby Chambliss and Harry Reid, along with Representative Charlie Rangel spent a total of over two hundred thousand dollars on golf, an inauguration party, and a self-portrait when their constituents are struggling to make ends meet…well, just don’t expect an answer anytime soon.[1]
But who would expect the same behavior from God?
God’s response to Job: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Who marked off its dimensions?” doesn’t answer Job’s question. Job finally meets God face to face after all his suffering, all his affliction, to question God and the fairness of the punishment he has undergone, and God deflects Job’s question, his question that gets at the timeless issue of, “Why do bad things happen to good people.”
Job hasn’t lost his faith. Job has been faithful, and all he wants is an answer.
In some ways silence would have been easier to understand – it would have shown Job that all his faith was in vain - but at least it would have been an answer he could have understood – that the world just isn’t fair, there’s no order to it, and there’s no point in trying to do what is right because there isn’t anyone watching – that there’s no one up there punishing the sinful and rewarding the faithful – as there isn’t really anyone up there at all.
Such is the conclusion many reach in the wake of tragedy – as asking why is the kind of question that rarely leads to resolution – so many people give up asking and give up believing at the same time.
When we consider the great tragedies of human history – the many examples of undeserved suffering – the slaughter of the southern Sudanese by the north, the murder of the Tutsi’s in Rwanda, how the dictator Pol-Pot imprisoned and tortured thousands of his own people in Cambodia; many Jews today who consider the Holocaust know either a God too weak to act or a God who was never really there at all.
The book I’m reading now, a work of fiction called The Book Thief takes place during this time period in a little town in Germany. The hero is a little girl named Liesel, an orphan taken in by an older couple after her father is murdered for being a communist and her mother just disappears all together. She is haunted by the memory of her brother’s death – every night taking her back to the dark day when he died in her arms.
Every night she sees into his empty eyes; it’s the sight of those eyes that scares her awake to find her foster father Hans Hubermann, who Liesel calls Papa, standing over her, stroking her hair or just sitting at her bedside.
On the day Liesel is old enough to connect the dots between the murder of her father, the disappearance of her mother, and the death of her brother, she shouts out to her foster father Hans, “I hate Hitler!”
Her Papa looks down at the ground, then meets his daughter’s gaze again without expression, and --- slaps this girl who he loves more than anything across the face.
In some ways, just about as cruel as a response as there could possibly be.
But how could Hans ever explain to a child the evil complexities of living in Nazi Germany?
A world where mothers disappear into the night, where brothers die in sisters’ arms, and hatred-fueled propaganda applauded while books burn.
Helping her understand was not the point. Keeping her safe was the point.
But this cold refusal, more than anything else is an apology, an apology from a man who would have changed the world for this little girl whom he loved, but only had the power to keep her lips sealed in a world where silence was safety.
You know it’s an apology and not the embodiment of anger, as his hand, once used to strike a silent fear, is back that night, and the next, and the night after that to comfort this young girl when her nightmares finally wake her up from a restless sleep. And we know that if the hands of her Papa could change the world, build up a safe place free from Hitler and his evil, they would.
But Job doesn’t want to be silent – and there’s nothing that God has done to keep him safe – what Job wants is an answer to the question he poses. God, however, knows that there comes a time when the answer to “why” can’t provide the healing that the afflicted really needs.
We want to know why – why is there suffering – why is there bloodshed – why do marriages end – why do children die before their parents – why is there war – why is there disease – why do hearts stop beating – why – why – why?
A God who hears these questions, then responds with more questions, is either a God too busy to mess with the trivial matter of a disgruntled human being – or a God dedicated to getting the faithful back to the business of living.
Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? No – and the reason the world is ordered this way is not for you to know.
Where were you when the sun was shining, and a little girl was pulling at your sleeve to go outside? This is your question to answer. Not where was God – where were you?
Were you still in bed while the world passed you by?
Were you still mourning what you lost, wishing it would have been different?
Were you so full of regret that you forgot to live?
Your place is not to ask why – your place is to live. Leave the rest to one who may not answer your question – but who will always be there, stroking your hair, sitting by your bedside, with you as the dawn breaks into a new day.
-Amen.
[1] Bob Keefe, “Leadership PACs keep cash flowing,” Atlanta Journal-Constitution (Tuesday, October 13, 2009) A1.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Choose Life
Job 1: 1 page 359
In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.
Job 2: 1-10 page 360
On another day the angels came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them to present himself before God. And the Lord said to Satan, “Where have you come from?”
Satan answered the Lord, “From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.”
Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.”
“Skin for skin!” Satan replied, “A man will give all he has for his own life.” But stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones and he will surely curse you to your face.”
The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.”
So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.
His wife said to him, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!”
He replied, “You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?”
In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.
Sermon
I saw a flock of geese the other morning, and to be honest, considering everything that this church faces today, there was a real part of me that was wishing I could sprout wings and fly away with them.
Today we are celebrating our 35th anniversary, and we should be celebrating all the triumphs, all the joys, all the good things God has done in us and through us.
Today’s sermon should be like that of Moses – Moses came with Joshua son of Nun and spoke all the words of this song – he recollected the great deeds of the past.
Remembering the group who met in the Crissman’s living room, then stepped out in faith, began worshiping in a room above a butcher shop, and then finally bought this land, built that building and then this one, and all along the way sang praises to the one who provided a place to worship, a place to worship the God who has worked for our good since the beginning.
From a mountain top Moses addressed the Israelites as they looked over into the Promised Land, but today we find ourselves, not on the mountain top with Moses but in the ash heap with Job.
Today who feels like patting themselves on the back for great deeds done, as our shoulders bear the heavy weight of worry for what will happen next.
In the past two weeks four of our staff have been let go, and four more have seen their salary cut by 15%. We are just no longer an 800 member church and now is the time when we are forced to stop acting like it. Those days are now confined to our rear-view mirror, as we have changed, Gwinnett County has changed, and I dare to say that I am not the only one who has been tempted by the geese, that I am not the only one who’s wished to sprout wings and fly away – to quit or give up.
As Job was afflicted with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, scraping those sores with a piece of pottery, his wife said to him “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!”
This question doesn’t bring anything new to Job, but simply verbalizes that part of Job that watched the geese, wanting to sprout wings and fly away from all of this; the part of Job that has envied the geese flying overhead as he sits in the ash-heap, doomed to suffer through a situation he isn’t responsible for and which he isn’t in control over. “Curse God and die!” his wife cries, just give up, just quit, just close to doors, it’s not worth it.
But those doors can’t just close.
When the Yellow River flooded two men fell asleep just outside those doors – their car quit on them, refusing to start in three feet of water. So they started walking at 5 AM, only to be stopped by a police officer on that bridge. With nowhere else to go they lay down just outside those doors.
I asked them if I could call them a cab.
But they still had to wait in soaking wet clothes. It just so happened that Joe Bader gave me several suits months before, two of which wouldn’t quite button; and as they changed into dry clothes Pam McClure, the Pre School Director brought up snacks for them to eat while they waited.
I walked out with them when the cab finally came, and one of them said to me, “We’ve been knocking on doors for a long while, but yours was the only one that opened.”
So can we really just close these doors?
Just close the doors on the community we serve?
Just close the doors on the finest sacred music program in the county?
Just close the doors on youth ministry?
Just close the doors, curse God and die?
Job’s wife is here asking us the question, but I pray that Job is here with us too, providing us with the faithful answer, “Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?”
I look back on our history, and during the good times we are eager to see God’s hand at work, pushing nice families through our doors as they moved out into a land of low crime, new houses, and great schools – but today, seeing God’s hand at work doesn’t take the eye tuned for progress, it takes an eye lit by faith.
We have been waiting for God to act – but I dare say God is acting!
After all – who ever said making it to the Promised Land would be easy!
So Moses addresses the people as they look out into the Promised Land – The law, faith, these are no idle words – “they are your life.”
And in the time where death closes in, tempts us to give up and quit, it is in this time of trial that you, the faithful, must once again choose life.
Choose to believe that in all of this…God is at work.
Choose to believe that it is in the times of trial that God calls forth the faithful to carry the flame of faith into the unknown, uncertain future.
You must choose to believe that it is even now that God is working in you, leading us all into the Promised Land, though all around us words of doubt spring up as though Satan himself were hoping we would give up before our work is done!
So will we simply curse God and die, here on our 35th Anniversary? Hardly! Today is the day when we once again choose life!
We choose faith, we choose hope, and we choose life.
Rise up O Church of God. From the ash heap, rise up, as your new day dawns.
Amen.
In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.
Job 2: 1-10 page 360
On another day the angels came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them to present himself before God. And the Lord said to Satan, “Where have you come from?”
Satan answered the Lord, “From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.”
Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.”
“Skin for skin!” Satan replied, “A man will give all he has for his own life.” But stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones and he will surely curse you to your face.”
The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.”
So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.
His wife said to him, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!”
He replied, “You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?”
In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.
Sermon
I saw a flock of geese the other morning, and to be honest, considering everything that this church faces today, there was a real part of me that was wishing I could sprout wings and fly away with them.
Today we are celebrating our 35th anniversary, and we should be celebrating all the triumphs, all the joys, all the good things God has done in us and through us.
Today’s sermon should be like that of Moses – Moses came with Joshua son of Nun and spoke all the words of this song – he recollected the great deeds of the past.
Remembering the group who met in the Crissman’s living room, then stepped out in faith, began worshiping in a room above a butcher shop, and then finally bought this land, built that building and then this one, and all along the way sang praises to the one who provided a place to worship, a place to worship the God who has worked for our good since the beginning.
From a mountain top Moses addressed the Israelites as they looked over into the Promised Land, but today we find ourselves, not on the mountain top with Moses but in the ash heap with Job.
Today who feels like patting themselves on the back for great deeds done, as our shoulders bear the heavy weight of worry for what will happen next.
In the past two weeks four of our staff have been let go, and four more have seen their salary cut by 15%. We are just no longer an 800 member church and now is the time when we are forced to stop acting like it. Those days are now confined to our rear-view mirror, as we have changed, Gwinnett County has changed, and I dare to say that I am not the only one who has been tempted by the geese, that I am not the only one who’s wished to sprout wings and fly away – to quit or give up.
As Job was afflicted with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, scraping those sores with a piece of pottery, his wife said to him “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!”
This question doesn’t bring anything new to Job, but simply verbalizes that part of Job that watched the geese, wanting to sprout wings and fly away from all of this; the part of Job that has envied the geese flying overhead as he sits in the ash-heap, doomed to suffer through a situation he isn’t responsible for and which he isn’t in control over. “Curse God and die!” his wife cries, just give up, just quit, just close to doors, it’s not worth it.
But those doors can’t just close.
When the Yellow River flooded two men fell asleep just outside those doors – their car quit on them, refusing to start in three feet of water. So they started walking at 5 AM, only to be stopped by a police officer on that bridge. With nowhere else to go they lay down just outside those doors.
I asked them if I could call them a cab.
But they still had to wait in soaking wet clothes. It just so happened that Joe Bader gave me several suits months before, two of which wouldn’t quite button; and as they changed into dry clothes Pam McClure, the Pre School Director brought up snacks for them to eat while they waited.
I walked out with them when the cab finally came, and one of them said to me, “We’ve been knocking on doors for a long while, but yours was the only one that opened.”
So can we really just close these doors?
Just close the doors on the community we serve?
Just close the doors on the finest sacred music program in the county?
Just close the doors on youth ministry?
Just close the doors, curse God and die?
Job’s wife is here asking us the question, but I pray that Job is here with us too, providing us with the faithful answer, “Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?”
I look back on our history, and during the good times we are eager to see God’s hand at work, pushing nice families through our doors as they moved out into a land of low crime, new houses, and great schools – but today, seeing God’s hand at work doesn’t take the eye tuned for progress, it takes an eye lit by faith.
We have been waiting for God to act – but I dare say God is acting!
After all – who ever said making it to the Promised Land would be easy!
So Moses addresses the people as they look out into the Promised Land – The law, faith, these are no idle words – “they are your life.”
And in the time where death closes in, tempts us to give up and quit, it is in this time of trial that you, the faithful, must once again choose life.
Choose to believe that in all of this…God is at work.
Choose to believe that it is in the times of trial that God calls forth the faithful to carry the flame of faith into the unknown, uncertain future.
You must choose to believe that it is even now that God is working in you, leading us all into the Promised Land, though all around us words of doubt spring up as though Satan himself were hoping we would give up before our work is done!
So will we simply curse God and die, here on our 35th Anniversary? Hardly! Today is the day when we once again choose life!
We choose faith, we choose hope, and we choose life.
Rise up O Church of God. From the ash heap, rise up, as your new day dawns.
Amen.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Ask
Esther 7: 1-10, page 357
So the king and Haman went to dine with Queen Esther, and as they were drinking wine on that second day, the king again asked, “Queen Esther, what is your petition? It will be given you. What is your request? Even up to half the kingdom, it will be granted.”
The Queen Esther answered, “If I have found favor with you, O king, and if it pleases your majesty, grant me my life – this is my petition. And spare my people – this is my request. For I and my people have been sold for destruction and slaughter and annihilation. If we had merely been sold as male and female slaves, I would have kept quiet, because no such distress would justify disturbing the king.
King Xerxes asked Queen Esther, “Who is he? Where is the man who has dared to do such a thing?”
Esther said, “The adversary and enemy is this vile Haman.”
Then Haman was terrified before the king and queen. The king got up in a rage, left his wine and went out into the palace garden. But Haman, realizing that the king had already decided his fate, stayed behind to beg Queen Esther for his life.
Just as the king returned from the palace garden to the banquet hall, Haman was falling on the couch where Esther was reclining.
The king exclaimed, “Will he even molest the queen while she is with me in the house?”
As soon as the word left the kings mouth, they covered Haman’s face. Then Harbona, one of the eunuchs attending the king, said, “A gallows seventy-five feet high stands by Haman’s house. He had it made for Mordecai, who spoke up to help the king.”
The king said, “Hang him on it!” so they hanged Haman on the gallows he had prepared for Mordecai. Then the king’s fury subsided.
Esther 9: 20-22
Mordecai recorded these events, and he sent letters to all the Jews throughout the provinces of King Xerxes, near and far, to have them celebrate annually the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the month of Adar as the time when the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month when their sorrow was turned into joy and their mourning into a day of celebration. He wrote them to observe the days as days of feasting and joy and giving presents of food to one another and gifts to the poor.
Sermon
Correctly, my daughter Lily thinks that I am absolutely the coolest, most interesting and talented person alive. She is amazed, completely amazed by my dexterity, and will stare in awe as I open and close my hand like this.
I think she must think that I am a genius, and I imagine that she would enjoy nothing better than to sit in my lap as I teach her everything she needs to know.
But I know, because a lot of people have let me know, that I should enjoy these days while they last because one day, before I know it, my little girl will not be so little anymore, and her interest in the wisdom that I have to offer her will reach its end.
My little girl’s face – what today is a sweet, fat little face with kissable little cheeks often colored with sweet potatoes – will some unfortunate day be a face with cheeks that I’m not allowed to kiss because they’re colored by blush or something.
And to become the person she wants to become, to impress the people who she wants to impress, she’ll need a different kind of wisdom than what I posses.
That day came for Mordecai, the closest thing to a father Esther ever had. When she first left his house for the palace he never strayed far from the king’s gates even though he had already said everything she wanted to hear. The eunuchs took over, gave her lessons and beauty treatments to prepare her to meet the king, 6 months with oil and myrrh and six with perfumes and cosmetics.
She had to learn new lessons – rules on how to look, how to walk, how to approach the king because she wasn’t one of a million poor little girls living life in the vast Persian Empire stretching from India to Egypt and she caught the break of a lifetime and became Queen in the most powerful man in the world’s court.
The wisdom she needed there was a wisdom that Mordecai could not have taught her, because Mordecai didn’t understand. He didn’t understand a world of feasts and excess as his was a world of famine and poverty. He didn’t understand a world of makeup and perfume as his was a world of dust and stench. He didn’t understand the world of a god-king whose will decided the fate of millions because Mordecai’s world was governed by the God of the Exodus, a God who would deliver the people from oppression in a foreign land, if not now than soon.
So when Mordecai ran into Haman, he didn’t know he was supposed to bow down, but his ignorance did not forgive his indiscretion – in fact, it sealed his fate and that of his people.
Based on his faith in his God, though, Mordecai believed that Esther must have been placed as Queen in this Persian Empire to deliver her people from the evil Haman’s plot.
But Esther is not so sure. She knows that there are rules to be followed and that it’s no simple thing to ask for a favor. At best his response will be a simple “no” –as just the act of asking will surely cost her life.
Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s love, but whatever it is Esther agrees to go to ask Xerxes to spare her people saying, “When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.”
She goes to him and she asks, even though, according to the rules of the empire, she knows the answer already.
She approaches Xerxes, knowing full well that this man cannot set the precedent of granting requests to anyone who asks, knowing full well that what she is doing breaks the law and ensures that she will forever lose her favored place in the court, she goes and asks knowing that the answer will be no and that she will surely die because of it, and she says to the King even though he won’t listen, “If I have found favor with you, O king, and if it pleases your majesty, grant me my life – this is my petition. And spare my people – this is my request. For I and my people have been sold for destruction and slaughter and annihilation. If we had merely been sold as male and female slaves, I would have kept quiet, because no such distress would justify disturbing the king.”
I wonder what thoughts passed through her head during the silence that followed. Did she watch his face, or look at the ground; maybe she stared out a window knowing that her father would be hanged but she would not have to live to see it happen.
I wonder if she remembered days of sitting on his lap, his fingers wiping away sweet potatoes, and hearing stories of a God whose will shaped the history of the world, whose will had liberated the people from slavery and Egypt, and the promise that this God would save the people again.
The lessons Mordecai taught her about this God must have seemed like fairy tales - if only the world really worked that way. If only Mordecai’s stories were true, if only the powers of life and death didn’t rest in the hands of a fickle king.
I’ll just imagine it’s true, until my fate is sealed with the word “no.” But that word never came.
King Xerxes demanded, “Who is he? Where is the vile Haman who has dared to exterminate your father and the Jews?”
Imagine the joy Mordecai felt then as he recorded these events, as he sent letters to all the Jews throughout the provinces of King Xerxes, near and far, to have them celebrate…to celebrate the time when their sorrow was turned into joy and their mourning into a day of celebration, because his daughter knew the answer to the question, but she asked it anyway.
If only we could be so bold – but what we have learned about the world and how it works almost always prevents us from asking such questions.
We’ve learned that we live in a world disinterested with religion.
We’ve learned that people would rather sleep in on Sunday morning.
We’ve learned that it’s better to get ahead ourselves, that when we catch a lucky break we should take it, and that we can’t worry about everybody else because we need to be worried about ourselves.
So we put away those Bible stories to make our way in the world as Esther made her way in the Persian court. We don’t talk about what we believe, we don’t invite people to church, and we don’t dare hope for a world where there is enough for everyone. If we did we’d stick out, people would stare – think of all we’d stand to lose.
This afternoon in the Town Hall meeting following the 11:00 service you will be presented with some numbers that may incite worry, anger, maybe even panic. I think that the lessons we’ve been taught by the world, like the lessons Esther learned at court lead us to react one way, but our faith, like the faith Mordecai taught Esther will lead us to another.
Our church faces a great trial, but we’ve got to remember that there is a power beyond what meets the eye at work in our world – a power that the world never takes into account.
So let us remember Esther – whose common sense told her one thing, but who nonetheless asked for the impossible, only to find that the God who liberated the people from Egypt was still at work – putting heroes in place, shaping the mind of a king, to save the people again.
Her common sense told her that she should think rationally.
Her common sense told her that all was lost.
And her common sense told her that coincidence, luck, and the will of the king governed the world.
But Mordecai told her that she had been placed here for a reason – for just such a time as this. And today I am bold enough to believe the same thing – that we are all here today for a reason, that we are here today because this is a day when the future of this church needs you the most.
May we be bold – trusting that the God who turns sorrow to joy and mourning into a day of celebration is still at work in the world calling the ways of the world into question – proving once again that the final word does not come from the king, from the bank, from the economy, but from the God who liberated the people from Egypt, set the people free from the vile Haman, and who will work through you to make what seems impossible possible.
So the king and Haman went to dine with Queen Esther, and as they were drinking wine on that second day, the king again asked, “Queen Esther, what is your petition? It will be given you. What is your request? Even up to half the kingdom, it will be granted.”
The Queen Esther answered, “If I have found favor with you, O king, and if it pleases your majesty, grant me my life – this is my petition. And spare my people – this is my request. For I and my people have been sold for destruction and slaughter and annihilation. If we had merely been sold as male and female slaves, I would have kept quiet, because no such distress would justify disturbing the king.
King Xerxes asked Queen Esther, “Who is he? Where is the man who has dared to do such a thing?”
Esther said, “The adversary and enemy is this vile Haman.”
Then Haman was terrified before the king and queen. The king got up in a rage, left his wine and went out into the palace garden. But Haman, realizing that the king had already decided his fate, stayed behind to beg Queen Esther for his life.
Just as the king returned from the palace garden to the banquet hall, Haman was falling on the couch where Esther was reclining.
The king exclaimed, “Will he even molest the queen while she is with me in the house?”
As soon as the word left the kings mouth, they covered Haman’s face. Then Harbona, one of the eunuchs attending the king, said, “A gallows seventy-five feet high stands by Haman’s house. He had it made for Mordecai, who spoke up to help the king.”
The king said, “Hang him on it!” so they hanged Haman on the gallows he had prepared for Mordecai. Then the king’s fury subsided.
Esther 9: 20-22
Mordecai recorded these events, and he sent letters to all the Jews throughout the provinces of King Xerxes, near and far, to have them celebrate annually the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the month of Adar as the time when the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month when their sorrow was turned into joy and their mourning into a day of celebration. He wrote them to observe the days as days of feasting and joy and giving presents of food to one another and gifts to the poor.
Sermon
Correctly, my daughter Lily thinks that I am absolutely the coolest, most interesting and talented person alive. She is amazed, completely amazed by my dexterity, and will stare in awe as I open and close my hand like this.
I think she must think that I am a genius, and I imagine that she would enjoy nothing better than to sit in my lap as I teach her everything she needs to know.
But I know, because a lot of people have let me know, that I should enjoy these days while they last because one day, before I know it, my little girl will not be so little anymore, and her interest in the wisdom that I have to offer her will reach its end.
My little girl’s face – what today is a sweet, fat little face with kissable little cheeks often colored with sweet potatoes – will some unfortunate day be a face with cheeks that I’m not allowed to kiss because they’re colored by blush or something.
And to become the person she wants to become, to impress the people who she wants to impress, she’ll need a different kind of wisdom than what I posses.
That day came for Mordecai, the closest thing to a father Esther ever had. When she first left his house for the palace he never strayed far from the king’s gates even though he had already said everything she wanted to hear. The eunuchs took over, gave her lessons and beauty treatments to prepare her to meet the king, 6 months with oil and myrrh and six with perfumes and cosmetics.
She had to learn new lessons – rules on how to look, how to walk, how to approach the king because she wasn’t one of a million poor little girls living life in the vast Persian Empire stretching from India to Egypt and she caught the break of a lifetime and became Queen in the most powerful man in the world’s court.
The wisdom she needed there was a wisdom that Mordecai could not have taught her, because Mordecai didn’t understand. He didn’t understand a world of feasts and excess as his was a world of famine and poverty. He didn’t understand a world of makeup and perfume as his was a world of dust and stench. He didn’t understand the world of a god-king whose will decided the fate of millions because Mordecai’s world was governed by the God of the Exodus, a God who would deliver the people from oppression in a foreign land, if not now than soon.
So when Mordecai ran into Haman, he didn’t know he was supposed to bow down, but his ignorance did not forgive his indiscretion – in fact, it sealed his fate and that of his people.
Based on his faith in his God, though, Mordecai believed that Esther must have been placed as Queen in this Persian Empire to deliver her people from the evil Haman’s plot.
But Esther is not so sure. She knows that there are rules to be followed and that it’s no simple thing to ask for a favor. At best his response will be a simple “no” –as just the act of asking will surely cost her life.
Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s love, but whatever it is Esther agrees to go to ask Xerxes to spare her people saying, “When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.”
She goes to him and she asks, even though, according to the rules of the empire, she knows the answer already.
She approaches Xerxes, knowing full well that this man cannot set the precedent of granting requests to anyone who asks, knowing full well that what she is doing breaks the law and ensures that she will forever lose her favored place in the court, she goes and asks knowing that the answer will be no and that she will surely die because of it, and she says to the King even though he won’t listen, “If I have found favor with you, O king, and if it pleases your majesty, grant me my life – this is my petition. And spare my people – this is my request. For I and my people have been sold for destruction and slaughter and annihilation. If we had merely been sold as male and female slaves, I would have kept quiet, because no such distress would justify disturbing the king.”
I wonder what thoughts passed through her head during the silence that followed. Did she watch his face, or look at the ground; maybe she stared out a window knowing that her father would be hanged but she would not have to live to see it happen.
I wonder if she remembered days of sitting on his lap, his fingers wiping away sweet potatoes, and hearing stories of a God whose will shaped the history of the world, whose will had liberated the people from slavery and Egypt, and the promise that this God would save the people again.
The lessons Mordecai taught her about this God must have seemed like fairy tales - if only the world really worked that way. If only Mordecai’s stories were true, if only the powers of life and death didn’t rest in the hands of a fickle king.
I’ll just imagine it’s true, until my fate is sealed with the word “no.” But that word never came.
King Xerxes demanded, “Who is he? Where is the vile Haman who has dared to exterminate your father and the Jews?”
Imagine the joy Mordecai felt then as he recorded these events, as he sent letters to all the Jews throughout the provinces of King Xerxes, near and far, to have them celebrate…to celebrate the time when their sorrow was turned into joy and their mourning into a day of celebration, because his daughter knew the answer to the question, but she asked it anyway.
If only we could be so bold – but what we have learned about the world and how it works almost always prevents us from asking such questions.
We’ve learned that we live in a world disinterested with religion.
We’ve learned that people would rather sleep in on Sunday morning.
We’ve learned that it’s better to get ahead ourselves, that when we catch a lucky break we should take it, and that we can’t worry about everybody else because we need to be worried about ourselves.
So we put away those Bible stories to make our way in the world as Esther made her way in the Persian court. We don’t talk about what we believe, we don’t invite people to church, and we don’t dare hope for a world where there is enough for everyone. If we did we’d stick out, people would stare – think of all we’d stand to lose.
This afternoon in the Town Hall meeting following the 11:00 service you will be presented with some numbers that may incite worry, anger, maybe even panic. I think that the lessons we’ve been taught by the world, like the lessons Esther learned at court lead us to react one way, but our faith, like the faith Mordecai taught Esther will lead us to another.
Our church faces a great trial, but we’ve got to remember that there is a power beyond what meets the eye at work in our world – a power that the world never takes into account.
So let us remember Esther – whose common sense told her one thing, but who nonetheless asked for the impossible, only to find that the God who liberated the people from Egypt was still at work – putting heroes in place, shaping the mind of a king, to save the people again.
Her common sense told her that she should think rationally.
Her common sense told her that all was lost.
And her common sense told her that coincidence, luck, and the will of the king governed the world.
But Mordecai told her that she had been placed here for a reason – for just such a time as this. And today I am bold enough to believe the same thing – that we are all here today for a reason, that we are here today because this is a day when the future of this church needs you the most.
May we be bold – trusting that the God who turns sorrow to joy and mourning into a day of celebration is still at work in the world calling the ways of the world into question – proving once again that the final word does not come from the king, from the bank, from the economy, but from the God who liberated the people from Egypt, set the people free from the vile Haman, and who will work through you to make what seems impossible possible.
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