Those Who Wander, Bring Them Back

Scripture Lessons: Esther 7: 1-6 and James 5: 13-20 Sermon Title: Those who Wander, Bring them Back Preached on September 26, 2021 You may know that just a few weeks ago, a former member of our church died, suddenly. His funeral was last Monday. A friend of mine was playing golf with this man’s son when his mother called and told him that his father had died while away on business. I can imagine few more difficult phone calls, so what I give thanks to God for amid tragedy are the little miracles like this one, that when Sam Rapp got the news that his father died, Brian Robinson was standing there with him. Now, Brian didn’t feel prepared for a moment like this one. He’s a dentist, not a grief counselor. So, what I want to preach about today is how much comfort presence brings, how much one simple act of kindness can change things, and how God has put us here on this earth to live our faith, how the book of James calls us to do something, but the world makes too many of us afraid to act. We worry about having the right words, and so sometimes we say nothing. We worry about looking awkward or making someone uncomfortable, so we don’t act or go or pray, although in her sermon two weeks ago, Rev. Cassie Waits proclaimed that a person who calls herself a runner isn’t really a runner and a Christian who doesn’t live her faith can’t call herself a Christian. There’s a great Tony Robbins quote I heard this week. Tony Robbins is one of those self-help speakers, and this is my favorite thing I’ve heard him say, “In life, lots of people know what to do, but few people actually do what they know. Knowing is not enough! You must take action.” And I tell you, churches are just full of people who know what to do, but life changing things happen when disciples have the courage to do what they know, to step out in faith as James implores: Are there any among you suffering? Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. That’s what James says, even though the cynics among us would ask: “what’s a little oil going to do in the face of cancer or heart disease?” The self-conscious among us wonder if they should even go. With their voices in our heads let us remember that a simple act of authentic kindness is enough to defy the power of sin and death. It’s true. Listen to this: on a trip to Boston a few years ago we walked the Freedom Trail. Right next to the Freedom Trail is a noteworthy Holocaust memorial. One simple glass tower dedicated to each of the concentration camps, numbers on the outsides etched in the glass of all the people murdered at each one. The numbers reach to the sky, but on the inside of the tower, where you walk through, there are quotes from survivors. This one was especially profound: Ilse, a childhood friend of mine, once found a raspberry in the camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf. Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry, and you give it to your friend. The world might make us feel small. Like our actions have no meaning. That there’s nothing really to be done. “Who am I to make a difference,” we’ve learned to ask, but don’t forget that you are one who can make a difference, just by doing what you know to do. That’s how it was with Esther. Our first Scripture Lesson comes from that great book which tells the story of a Jewish girl who had somehow lucked out and made it into the palace of the King of Persia while the Jewish people lived there in exile. No one there knew she was a Jew, and they didn’t need to know, for if she hid her identity, she’d be spared from all the hardship her people faced living as an oppressed minority under the most powerful empire on earth. She knew that she could get by if she’d just wake up every morning, put on her makeup, and laugh at the emperor’s jokes. She wasn’t powerful. She didn’t need to be wise. All she had to do was keep the emperor happy and she could keep on living. Maybe doing so doesn’t feel very good, however, it’s better than the alternative she could imagine. She stayed quiet and she survived until the only father she had ever known needed her. She got by until she heard that her people needed her. Then, she spoke out against the evil Haman who was plotting their demise. She said something, and surely to her it seemed to her as though her voice would be nothing more than wind whistling through the reeds. That resistance was futile. Surely, she felt as though her will to make a difference would be like water against the rock. That she was powerless to really change anything, just a pretty face with no means to persuade the emperor. Still, she spoke the words we just read. She spoke and look what happened? She saved her people from genocide. Of course, it must have been hard. Of course, it took courage. What Ester did may sound nearly impossible, and that “nearly” is what she had to remember. That audacious belief that something could be done is what it really took for her to act. She had to believe, at least a little bit, that things could change. That hope was real. That God was alive and not dead. Meanwhile, the powers of sin and death are always trying to persuade us that it’s better to hide, keep silent, over think everything, and be paralyzed by our own anxiety. That’s just where the evil one wants us: thinking that nothing can be done, for within us is the power to comfort a friend in grief, just by reaching out and squeezing his hand. Within us is the power to defy Nazi Germany with a gift of a raspberry. Within us is the means to bring those who are lost back to the land of the living; therefore, James is bold to say: My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another, you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. Did you hear that? Within you is the power to bring back the wandering sinner. And I don’t think the author of the book of James means that we should correct, shame, judge, manipulate, or lecture the wandering sinner. If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a group of Christians who wanted to bring you back into the fold after having been caught dancing, smoking, or listening to rap music then you know that so often judgmental Christians push people further from the church rather than brings them back into it. I don’t like that, and I don’t believe James would either. What I believe James is talking about here is something closer to the South African principle of ubuntu, which I learned about from Katherine Wesselink’s Facebook page. Yesterday, our daughter Lily had five volleyball matches, so in between I had a lot of time to look at facebook. This is what I learned: [In some South African tribes] when someone does something wrong, he is taken to the center of the village and surrounded by his tribe for two days while they speak of all the good he has done. They believe each person is good, yet sometimes makes mistakes, which is really a cry for help. They unite in this ritual to encourage a person to reconnect with his true nature. The belief is that unity and affirmation have more power to change behavior than shame and punishment. This is known as Ubuntu – humanity towards others. Have you ever heard of such a thing? It makes me remember the pastor who preached my great uncle Jim’s funeral. He told the story of being a 9 or 10-year-old boy. His father had just died, and his house was full of people. So full that he couldn’t really make out who all was there. His memory of the day was of a bunch of men and women wanting to say some words that would make this young boy feel better. The only vivid memory this preacher had of that sad day years ago was climbing the steps, and as he did, someone took his hand and squeezed it. That was all, but that was all my Great Uncle Jim needed to do, for despite all the years that had passed between the day of his father’s funeral when he was a child and the day of my Great Uncle Jim’s death, that preacher, now retired, remembered that simple gesture which pulled him back into the land of the living by helping him see that he was not alone on one of the worst days of his life. Does it really take more than that? A simple gesture. A kind word. A raspberry in a leaf. My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another, you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. So, bring them back. Those who wander through the valley of the shadow of death, walk with them there awhile. Bring them back to the land of the living by just holding their hand. Bring them back from the shadow. Bring them back into the light by reminding them that they are more than their shame. Bring them back into community, from the pain of isolation. Don’t treat the mourning the way people used to treat leppers. Don’t isolate the sinner. Remember how Jesus was always eating with them. Do what he did: stay close by them. Don’t be afraid of the tears of hurting people. Bring them back into the church. Bring them back into the circle. Do not leave them in the cold. Do not shame them with your words. Do not add on to the oppressed the weight of your judgement. Bring them back. Bring them back. Bring them back. With that James ends his letter, and with that he challenges us to live our lives with faith, hope, and love. Amen.