Who is holding up your arms?

Scripture Lessons: Philippians 2: 1-13 and Exodus 17: 1-13 Preached on September 27, 2020 Sermon Title: Who is holding up your arms? There was a wonderful article in the paper last Sunday written by the dean of St. Phillip’s Cathedral downtown. He’s the very Reverend Samuel G. Candler. (I’d like to know how I might become the very Rev. Joe Evans, but that’s not the point I want to get to.) Living up to his title, this article was very good, nearly as good as the one our own Rev. Cassie Waits wrote for the Marietta paper last week, and in it the Very Rev. Samuel G. Candler claimed that among the long list of essential businesses that we just can’t get by without during this pandemic season is the church. You might not call the church a business, but his argument is that what we do, especially in this hour is essential. That faith gatherings are essential to life, and not just essential to our spiritual lives. Here’s a quote from his article: By faith gatherings, I do not mean just the transmission of our teaching or our latest social ethic. Teachings and social positions very, from generation to generation. What is essential about our established religious gatherings is our practice of gathering spiritually with people who are different from us. Think about it. How often does that really happen? This week we announced a phased reopening for in-person worship to start next Sunday with the first quarter of our congregation being invited. I’m excited about that, but regardless of where or how you worship, whether at home with our virtual service which will continue or at the in-person service which will be a little different (someone said “Sanitized) to prevent the spread of the virus, the act of a large group of people doing something together stands in stark contrast to so much of what we’ve been seeing lately. This week we were invited to celebrate our daughter Lily’s volleyball season. Her team had to conform to a set of rules so there were masks and temperature checks. However, the parents who wore a mask all ended up on one side while the parents who didn’t want to were on the other. The ones with their noses sticking out were kind of in the middle. We were all at the same event but even there we were divided. Consider how essential worship is. When the politicians gather, they are divided by an aisle, but in here we all gather together to bow our heads before the One God and Father of us all. While different signs decorate our front yards, here we affirm what we all have in common. Churches are filled with different kinds of people who might attend different kinds of rallies, but in this room we all stand to make one common statement of faith, “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” It’s a rare thing when a group of people can all agree on one statement about anything, and yet here, in this room, it happens Sunday after Sunday. We do it again and again, week after week, standing all at once to say what we believe. In our world today such communal acts are essential. Why? Because the evil one is doing everything in his power to convince us that we don’t have anything in common. We know now that when we read articles on the internet, more articles that we might agree with are suggested, so that we continue reading what we already agree with without having to read anything that we disagree with. Without exposure to opposing opinions we build up a kind of false confidence about how wise we are. Therefore, the Very Reverend considers gathering for worship with people we don’t agree with to be essential. Here in this room we first all stand together and pray a prayer boldly claiming that none of us has it right. This morning we confessed together: I am too self-righteous for my own good. Refusing to apologize, I never get beyond my mistakes. So sure that I’m not broken, I fail to be healed Joe Brice told us that he was worried about leading that prayer because he thought folks would be saying, “Yea, Joe, that sounds about right. You need to be praying that prayer.” Only, I’m the one who wrote it and I wrote that prayer because I know who I am. I’m not perfect, but I’m afraid to admit it. I don’t like being wrong, even though I often am. I’m happy being around people who agree with me, however I’m worse off when I live in such an echo chamber. Even more than that, I know that my soul is in jeopardy when there’s no one there to disagree with me and save me from myself. In the words of the Very Reverend: When we begin to lose… community, our voices become more random and untethered. In fact, we become idiots. Do we know what an idiot is? [We think] an idiot is someone who is dumb or stupid. Instead, the true meaning of the word “idiot” (coming from the Greek, meaning “one’s own) is someone who can think only within his or her own mindset, unable to see the world from another’s perspective. Do you know someone like that? Do you resemble someone like that? There’s a plaque that hangs in our kitchen: The opinions of the husband in this house do not necessarily represent those of the management. Our household is blessed by two opinions, two people who make decisions, not always unilaterally. Likewise, today, as we gather for worship let us rejoice in the truth that we are doing something together and that none of us is perfect, all knowing, or has it all figured out. This time of worship is something like an AA Meeting. In AA the only requirement is admitting that you have a problem you can’t fix on your own. In worship the only requirement is that we admit we have a problem with sin that we can’t solve ourselves. There’s no shame in admitting such limitations, for even Moses needed help. There’s bumper sticker: even Moses started out as a basket case. Have you seen that one? It’s true, and as he grew up he kept needing a little help. It’s there in our Second Scripture Lesson. Did you notice it? We’ve been in Exodus for weeks, both literally and figuratively. We’ve been reading from the book of Exodus since late August while our lives have been somewhere in-between what we once considered normal and what our new normal will become. Something important to remember about the Israelites in the book of Exodus is that while they were out Egypt but not yet in the Promised Land they really complained a lot. Last Sunday Rev. Cassie Waits reflected on how they complained until God provided them with food to eat. That satisfied them for a little while, but now they’re thirsty: From the wilderness of Sin, the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” Maybe that right there is a lesson for us in and of itself. How many miracles had they received by this time? There were 10 full on plagues in Egypt, God divided the water of an entire sea, provided food for them out of thin air, and still they complained. If your kids are whinny, they’re probably not half as ungrateful as the Israelites were. These Israelites complained and complained and complained. So, Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people?” But the Lord said to Moses (and this is what I really want to emphasize), “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you… Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Maybe you’ve heard this story before, of Moses striking the rock and God again providing this complaining people with exactly what they were asking for, but have you ever noticed that Moses wasn’t allowed to go strike the rock alone? Then, when Amalek came and fought with Israel, Moses sent out Joshua to choose some men to go and fight, but whenever Moses raised up his hands Joshua and the troops would prevail while when Moses lowered his hands, Amalek prevailed, so: They took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side; so, his hands were steady until the sun set. And Joshua defeated Amalek and his people with the sword. Even Moses couldn’t do it on his own. He had to take elders with him out to strike the rock. He needed Aaron and Hur to hold up his hands. Why then do some Republicans think that our country will be better if we get rid of all the Democrats and why do some Democrats think that we’ll have achieved utopia once all the Republicans are out of office? Why do we all have at least one person in our lives who we hope won’t show up at Thanksgiving Dinner? Why do we seek uniformity? Why do we fear disagreements? Why are we so sure we have it right and they have it wrong? It’s because we all suffer from self-righteousness. We all want to do it all on our own. However, there’s only One in human history who could have, and he chose not to. Our Second Scripture Lesson from the book of Philippians says it this way: Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not on your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. Did you hear that? I could complain about the state of our union today so much that you would mistake me for an Israelite, so let me just say this: there’s a lot to be worried about these days. We have a lot of work to do. And may that work begin with us, all trying to look more like Him and less like the world. Last week I opened up a fortune cookie and there, on the slip of paper I read: “You would do well to work as a team in the coming weeks.” After the week I’ve had, I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have made it had it not been exactly that way. So many people are holding my arms up. Far too many for me to think for a minute that I can pastor this church all on my own, but what about you? Who is holding your arms up? Who is keeping your world from falling apart? Who is delivering your Amazon packages, keeping your lights on, changing your sheets, doing your laundry, cutting your grass, paving your road, or stocking your grocery shelves? Who is saving you from yourself? Who confronts you when you’re wrong? Who stops you before you run right off that cliff? Who has given you enough grace to cover up all those broken places? No one is an island, so accept the help he provides and the accept the truth that we all need each other. Amen.