Psalm 148, page 448
Praise the Lord. Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights above.
Praise him, all his angels; praise him, all his heavenly hosts.
Praise him sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars.
Praise him you highest heavens and you waters above the skies.
Let them praise the name of the Lord, for he commanded and they were created.
He set them in place forever and ever; he gave a decree that will never pass away.
Praise the Lord from the earth, you great sea creatures and all ocean depths, lightening and hail, snow and clouds, stormy winds that do his bidding, you mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars, wild animals and all cattle, small creatures and flying birds, kings of the earth and all nations, you princes and all rulers on earth, young men and maidens, old men and children.
Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is exalted; his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.
He has raised up for his people a horn, the praise of all his saints of Israel, the people close to his heart.
Praise the Lord.
Sermon
Jay Bookman, opinion writer for the AJC began his Christmas day column with, “Tis the day we call Christmas, yet gloom fills the land, things haven’t been going exactly as planned. The news pages are full of jobs disappearing, CEO profiteering Illinois racketeering. Detroit is collapsing, the Earth overheating, and our 401(k)s are taking a beating.”[1]
In a way, it was refreshing to hear such an honest assessment, better than some commercials I saw in the days leading up to Christmas that had been pulling out all the stops to make a go of a weak economy.
The worst one starts with a flashback to Christmas morning: a sweet little girl in her nightgown has gotten a pony. She looks at the camera explaining how excited she is, how that excitement multiplies because the cute little girl from next door is exceedingly jealous to the point that she drops her toy pony in disgust. Then the little girl, as she pats her real pony on the head, exclaims: “The best present ever.” The commercial then flashes forward to that same little girl, now all grown up. It’s Christmas morning again and she walks outside to see the brand new Lexus her husband has bought her. Then the words that she never thought she would repeat again cross her lips, “The best present ever.”
This commercial seems so out of place, almost mean, considering how hard some people have been hit this Christmas season. All kinds of people – from the waitress at the IHOP, worried over her grandchildren, as their father is on disability, to the guy who put a new battery in my car at the Advanced Auto parts, worried about disappointed kids looking under the tree to see a whole lot less than last year. Certainly, given the current economic situation, those who could afford a Lexus last year can’t this year, so who could this commercial even be addressing? Bookman writes to those of us, who I think are in the majority these days, those of us, who, according to the standards set by the Lexus commercial will not be having the best Christmas ever. He writes “to those who are threatened with pending foreclosure, to those having trouble just keeping composure.”
And it’s not just Bookman of the AJC who writes to and for the economically hard pressed. Jack Haberer of The Presbyterian Outlook writes about signs of the season. “Tis a sign of the season: Brunswick, Ohio, cancelled its holiday lights display due to a lack of money. Snowflakes normally hung from the downtown light poles stayed in storage for possible use next year. Other signs: more people standing in unemployment lines than in cash register lines; a news headline: “Anxiety: the New Normal…”[2]
I think what would have seemed normal last year would have been the Lexus commercial. A big girl or boy gets just that super expensive toy that they wanted for Christmas. But today this commercial seems strikingly out of place.
This has been a hard year for many people, and hard years tend to inspire hard questions and dismal outlooks. I read an article recently about a New Yorker, observing the aftermath of a plummeting Dow. He was ridding the subway and saw a man in a suit with a rolled-up issue of the Economist in his fist saying to the woman next to him, “Look at me. I’m the definition of dispensable.”[3]
He wrote about what it means to have your whole identity wrapped up in making money; that when making money is a part of who you are, losing money affects your entire being. One day you have it all, a great job, great stocks, a great office, but then, because of the moving of the market, because of changes nearly completely out of your control, you feel the ground underneath you shake as you begin to question everything. This Christmas, the wealthy and poor faced a common uncertainty, as a market we were used to seeing rise and rise is falling lower and lower.
So the words of Simeon from the Gospel of Luke take on new meaning – “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
These fearsome words from a righteous old man who finally got the present he had been hoping for, signal a great and mighty change. But because we know the end of the story, these changes, the falling and rising of many, and even the sword that will pierce your own soul, are good news. Many will fall and many will rise, but not so we may be condemned, so that the world will be rectified and redeemed.
In sure hope that rectifying and redeeming creation is exactly Christ’s work these days, Jack Haberer ends his article in The Presbyterian Outlook with the words, “Tis time for the church to herald some different signs of the season.”
This Christmas those old modes for achieving happiness, those old traditions of celebrating Christ’s birth through buying extravagant gifts, were not nearly so possible. We are faced with a choice then: shall we lament our inability to buy and buy, despair over how this Christmas there was not a Lexus to surprise us in our driveway, or should we take a long look at how we celebrate the birth of what is truly the best Christmas present ever?
“Praise the Lord!” directs the Psalmist. “Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights above. “Praise him, all his angels, praise him all his heavenly hosts.”
Then, as though the psalmist were our own Emily Moon, she calls directions to the sky above, saying, “Praise him sun and moon, praise him, all you shining stars. Praise him, you highest heavens and you waters above the skies. Let them praise the name of the Lord, for he commanded and they were created. He set them in place for ever and ever; he gave a decree that will never pass away.”
Far from consumerism or lamenting what you can’t afford, this psalm calls you to direct the heavens, the earth, and the creatures of the land and sea as all God’s critters truly have a place in this choir of praise to the Lord our creator.
The businessman who fears unemployment with worry and fear says to the woman next to him on the subway train, “Look at me. I’m the definition of dispensable,” but Psalm 148 calls this man to a most important task: to direct choirs of angels, to call on the sun and the moon to sing praises, calls on lightening and hail, snow and clouds, mountains and hills, fruit trees and cedars to lift their voices in praise to the King.
This psalm shows us exactly what we were created to do. We are called to take up our music, to lift our hands, and to keep time as we lead all of creation in singing praise to the Lord.
The great danger of our culture, and the great travesty of our culture’s celebration of Christmas, is that it takes us away from what would really give us pleasure, would really bring us joy, would really fulfill us as we were meant to be fulfilled – by being joyful, by singing praises to God who created, who redeemed, and who sustains us now – by giving thanks for these great gifts that we have.
So the psalmist calls us to direct creation in singing, not like a mother forcefully suggesting to her children that they write a thank-you note to aunts and uncles who sent presents[4], but like a director, who knows the words, who feels the words, who believes these words of thanksgiving to God in a way that makes this spirit of praise contagious.
If only it were Emily Moon in the commercial and not that Lexus – then we would know that with “mind, soul, spirit, and voice, it takes the whole body to sing and rejoice.”
This is the thing that we were created to do – not to count our losses, but to count our blessings – to lead all of creation in thanking God for the glorious gifts that have been given – especially the gift of a savior, born, not to provide us all with a Lexus, but born in a manger, to show us the error of our ways. He is our example – the one who lived to show us how we are meant to live.
We were not created to concentrate on what gifts we wish we would have gotten. We were not redeemed to dwell on what money we wish we would have made. We were born for thanking God for the gift that has come, the gift that matters more than anything else.
Therefore, let us stand and sing; that with joy in our hearts we might conduct the heavenly choirs in praise of our God.
Amen.
[1] Jay Bookman, “Tis the day we call Christmas” (Atlanta Journal Constitution, December 25, 2008).
[2] Jack Haberer, “Editor’s Outlook: Signs of the Season” (The Presbyterian Outlook, December 22, 2008) 5.
[3] Joel Lovell, “Men + Money; Your Loss is Your Gain” (GQ, 12/2008) 183.
[4] Stephen Farris, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008) 155.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Remembering Joanne
1 Corinthians 13, page 813
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain; faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Sermon
The city of Corinth where the Church that Paul’s letter to the Corinthians was addressed lies on the Anatolian Fault – the meeting of the Eurasian and Anatolian Plates. These plates have been going against and away from each other for as long as humans have been paying attention.
“Nowhere have civilization and nature waged more persistent war than in this part of the world,” writes Rick Gore of National Geographic.
It was near this fault line that the Colossus of Rhodes was constructed in the 3rd Century, BC, only to fall 50 years later. This region was the home of the Greek island of Thera, buried under two stories of ash and debris, to seemingly disappear and give birth to the story of the lost continent of Atlantis. It was also along this fault line that Antiochus the 1st built his tomb and monument to himself. “There he proclaimed, his mausoleum would be “unravaged by the outrages of time,” as though even the inevitable earthquakes would leave this monument to his life unscathed.[1]
Today the monument that he built for himself is cracked and toppled – his tomb nearly covered by rocks that have tumbled down due to the shaking of the earth.
Along this fault line – even the work of the most audacious human beings cannot last. Unlike the Pyramids of Egypt, the Aqueducts of Rome, the Sky-Scrapers of Dubai, the monuments built by human hands along the Anatolian Fault cannot stand the test of time.
Stone will crack by the forces of collision, the greatest of shipping vessels laid waste by the forces of subduction and extension on the sea floor, homes, stores, temples, and tombs have all been laid waste by the movements of the plates.
What can last then – Paul asks the Corinthians who know to well the earthquakes and volcanoes that can take away their life work. What will truly last the test of time?
Paul writes: “But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.”
As though he knew that even the work of the ancients could not stand the test of time along the Anatolian Fault, Paul writes of something that can truly last the test of time: “and now these three remain: faith, hope and love.”
Beyond the moving of the plates these three remain.
Beyond the eruption of the volcano, these three remain.
Beyond death, beyond time, beyond the grave, these three remain.
Not far from Corinth, along the same fault line that they knew too well, Antiochus the 1st built himself a monument that he might be remembered as a great ruler throughout the ages. Out of stone he made a name for himself, but by the shaking of time his monument will soon turn to nothing more than a pile of rock – hardly a reflection of a great life lived, more a reflection of time wasted on something that could not last.
So you see – so you already know – Antiochus the 1st wasn’t like Joanne, for while the monument to Antiochus the 1st’s life will soon pass away to nothing, the monument of Joanne’s life isn’t built of stone, not carved out of rock, but built up by the love that radiated from her eyes to the hearts of a husband, daughter, and son who she loved so well. The work of her hands is a family who will never forget her name, her faith, her hope, and especially not her love; because she didn’t build up with stone – she built us up with her words – she built us up a monument to herself with love.
Today we gather here to remember a woman who will be missed, a life that was fully lived, and a heart unlike any we have ever known.
Today we must mourn exactly the gift of God that we no longer have with us – unlike the monument of Antiochus the 1st that fell, the monuments to the life of Joanne Hicks will stand forever.
Her faith in people and her faith in God that gave her peace.
Her hope in the future that enabled her to continue fighting till the end.
And the love she had for us – the love that she built with her hands, spread with her voice, and poured into her family – these things will never leave, will never be shaken, can never die.
But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away; where there was suffering, it has ceased; where cancer crippled, it has been stilled; where there was worry, it has passed away.
While this time of mourning will certainly last far beyond today, remember, that now these three remain, and these three will remain with us forever: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest – the one that Joanne dedicated her life to – the one that will never die – the one that will bind us together forever – that will never be shake, that will never die, the one that still stands - is love.
-Amen.
[1] Rick Gore, “A History Forged by Disaster.” National Geographic, July 2000. 54.
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain; faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Sermon
The city of Corinth where the Church that Paul’s letter to the Corinthians was addressed lies on the Anatolian Fault – the meeting of the Eurasian and Anatolian Plates. These plates have been going against and away from each other for as long as humans have been paying attention.
“Nowhere have civilization and nature waged more persistent war than in this part of the world,” writes Rick Gore of National Geographic.
It was near this fault line that the Colossus of Rhodes was constructed in the 3rd Century, BC, only to fall 50 years later. This region was the home of the Greek island of Thera, buried under two stories of ash and debris, to seemingly disappear and give birth to the story of the lost continent of Atlantis. It was also along this fault line that Antiochus the 1st built his tomb and monument to himself. “There he proclaimed, his mausoleum would be “unravaged by the outrages of time,” as though even the inevitable earthquakes would leave this monument to his life unscathed.[1]
Today the monument that he built for himself is cracked and toppled – his tomb nearly covered by rocks that have tumbled down due to the shaking of the earth.
Along this fault line – even the work of the most audacious human beings cannot last. Unlike the Pyramids of Egypt, the Aqueducts of Rome, the Sky-Scrapers of Dubai, the monuments built by human hands along the Anatolian Fault cannot stand the test of time.
Stone will crack by the forces of collision, the greatest of shipping vessels laid waste by the forces of subduction and extension on the sea floor, homes, stores, temples, and tombs have all been laid waste by the movements of the plates.
What can last then – Paul asks the Corinthians who know to well the earthquakes and volcanoes that can take away their life work. What will truly last the test of time?
Paul writes: “But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.”
As though he knew that even the work of the ancients could not stand the test of time along the Anatolian Fault, Paul writes of something that can truly last the test of time: “and now these three remain: faith, hope and love.”
Beyond the moving of the plates these three remain.
Beyond the eruption of the volcano, these three remain.
Beyond death, beyond time, beyond the grave, these three remain.
Not far from Corinth, along the same fault line that they knew too well, Antiochus the 1st built himself a monument that he might be remembered as a great ruler throughout the ages. Out of stone he made a name for himself, but by the shaking of time his monument will soon turn to nothing more than a pile of rock – hardly a reflection of a great life lived, more a reflection of time wasted on something that could not last.
So you see – so you already know – Antiochus the 1st wasn’t like Joanne, for while the monument to Antiochus the 1st’s life will soon pass away to nothing, the monument of Joanne’s life isn’t built of stone, not carved out of rock, but built up by the love that radiated from her eyes to the hearts of a husband, daughter, and son who she loved so well. The work of her hands is a family who will never forget her name, her faith, her hope, and especially not her love; because she didn’t build up with stone – she built us up with her words – she built us up a monument to herself with love.
Today we gather here to remember a woman who will be missed, a life that was fully lived, and a heart unlike any we have ever known.
Today we must mourn exactly the gift of God that we no longer have with us – unlike the monument of Antiochus the 1st that fell, the monuments to the life of Joanne Hicks will stand forever.
Her faith in people and her faith in God that gave her peace.
Her hope in the future that enabled her to continue fighting till the end.
And the love she had for us – the love that she built with her hands, spread with her voice, and poured into her family – these things will never leave, will never be shaken, can never die.
But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away; where there was suffering, it has ceased; where cancer crippled, it has been stilled; where there was worry, it has passed away.
While this time of mourning will certainly last far beyond today, remember, that now these three remain, and these three will remain with us forever: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest – the one that Joanne dedicated her life to – the one that will never die – the one that will bind us together forever – that will never be shake, that will never die, the one that still stands - is love.
-Amen.
[1] Rick Gore, “A History Forged by Disaster.” National Geographic, July 2000. 54.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Wake Up!
Mark 13: 24-37, page 719
“But in those days, following that distress, “’the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’
“And at that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.
“Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door. I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
“No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with his assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch.
“Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back – whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”
Sermon
There is a joke I just heard this past week, which was especially funny when I read it after reading this scripture passage on staying ever ready and awake for Christ’s return. A Sunday school teacher asked a class why it was important to be quiet in the sanctuary during the sermon – and a wise little girl perked up to answer – because people are sleeping.
Realizing how tempting it is to sleep during one of the busiest times of the year – the Sunday after Thanksgiving and two record setting shopping days – and during what must be one of the most worrisome economic climates of your lifetime – bringing with it worries over jobs, stocks, and paying the mortgage – though all your kids can think about is bigger and better toys that aren’t going to pay for themselves – the temptation to doze off is understandable.
Recognizing the many challenges we all face during these trying times, I would like to keep you awake this morning with a sermon full of exciting twists and turns – one that will keep you on the edge of your seat with an ever changing plot that keeps you wondering what will happen next. I would love to preach a sermon that is like a good book that you stay up all night to read – one that keeps you turning its pages, not even noticing how tired you are or how soon the sun will rise.
That’s what I would love to preach this morning.
However – our scripture passage today isn’t necessarily suspenseful, though it is mysteriously odd. Its meaning isn’t a mystery, though apocalyptic passages like this one have been made out to be clues laid out for the faithful by modern fiction authors.
Jesus, in this 13th chapter of Mark, doesn’t seem concerned with keeping the reader’s attention. This passage does not employ a tricky plot twist to surprise you or compel you to tune in for the next installment or episode - if anything Mark chapter 13 is the spoiler that gives the ending away 3 chapters early. Here, Jesus tells the disciples what is going to happen in the end. So, as the preacher, I guess I’ll go and do the same thing. The point of this sermon is – Christ is coming.
It feels weird to give the point away like that – but that’s it – Christ is coming. That’s what I have to say – Christ is coming.
I hope I haven’t ruined the sermon or given you permission to catch up on your sleep – but giving the end away is exactly what Jesus does in this 13th chapter.
It’s a lot like the way my wife Sara reads suspenseful books – if things get to be too nerve racking she’ll skip to the last page and read the end before continuing on wherever she left off.
And maybe that’s exactly what Jesus is doing here for the disciples. To relieve their worried minds he skips to the very end, and gives them the last line of the book – Christ is coming.
He had just told them some very bad news – he had just told Peter, James, John, and Andrew that they must be on their guard – for before to long “you will be handed over to the local councils and flogged in the synagogues. On account of me you will stand before governors and kings as witnesses to them… brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child. Children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. All people will hate you because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.”
For the disciples, that is just what happened. After having their palm read by Jesus it’s a wonder they didn’t ask for their money back – truly a wonder they didn’t leave right then and go back to their day jobs. Their futures didn’t hold wealth, prestige, or even health, but according to the Historian, Hippolytus of Rome, Andrew eventually reached his end when he was crucified on an olive tree. James was stoned to death. John died in exile, and Peter was crucified upside down.[1]
Jesus warns them of the hardship that lays ahead, saying, sorry guys, but things are going to get pretty bad.
But then he goes even further here in chapter 13 – drawing them past a sobering, if cruel look at their end – beyond - to the real end – that in the end the owner of the house will return.
Jesus is clear, telling the disciples that hard times are ahead – hard times that may in fact get even harder – but the fig tree that Jesus withered up to nothing back in chapter 11 will soon have tender twigs blossoming with summer’s leaves. That the signs of rebirth – that the signs of Jesus arrival will be all around.
My good friend George takes Jesus’ arrival seriously with a bumper sticker on his car that says, “Jesus is coming – look busy”. The sticker is a warning that seems based on this passage here – “keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back.”
But this passage is not a warning for disobedient teenagers throwing a party, fearful of our parents’ return. This passage is for the children of God – who – after enduring hard times - times of worry, death, sadness, trepidation, facing a future that is at best unknown – and at worst, a future almost certainly worse than the present – that we, the children of God can look forward to the arrival of the one who will put things right.
To the poor and oppressed – your days of want and struggle are numbered – for your liberator is coming.
To the sick – to the heart broken – to the hurting – Jesus is coming – your healer is coming.
To the worried minds left awake at night, searching for some sign that bills will be paid and children provided for – take heart – Jesus is coming.
To the mourning – know that heaven and earth will pass away, but the words of the Lord will never pass away.
And to the given up – to the people of lost hope – Jesus is coming, Jesus is coming, Jesus is coming.
Do not give up.
For the words of Daniel quoted here in Mark are there for us – “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the starts will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.” But these sights are only signs that the Son of Man is coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, “from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.”
This Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent, and it may look like winter out there – but look to the tender branches of the fig tree – Jesus is coming.
The leaves of this tree spring forth in a world that seems to be increasingly selfish, increasingly cold, but where, in a community where homelessness is rising, jobs harder and harder to come by, here we are - members of a church who has opened her doors to the world – a church whose members gave up their Thanksgiving to spend it with the needy in our Fellowship Hall – a church whose members took the time to bake pies and turkeys for people who they don’t even know.
Barb Kell wrote me an email last Friday with her reflections from Thursday’s Thanksgiving dinner for the community in our Fellowship Hall. She said that “I am pretty sure that everyone who came to eat went home feeling the love of Christ shining through all those who served them today.” “That the light was shining and lighting the path, and while we may not know exactly where it leads – I know that the light is shining to show us the way during uncertain times.”
Today we are a people who know suspense – but it may well be the kind of suspense that burns holes in our stomachs rather than the kind of suspense that keeps us turning the pages of a good book. For that reason Jesus gives us the end of the story. He shows us where our path is leading.
Tomorrow may seem uncertain, but in case you didn’t here it before I’ll tell you the end of the story again – Jesus is coming – Jesus is coming – Jesus is coming.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
[1] www.ichthus.info/disciples/intro.html
“But in those days, following that distress, “’the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’
“And at that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.
“Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door. I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
“No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with his assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch.
“Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back – whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”
Sermon
There is a joke I just heard this past week, which was especially funny when I read it after reading this scripture passage on staying ever ready and awake for Christ’s return. A Sunday school teacher asked a class why it was important to be quiet in the sanctuary during the sermon – and a wise little girl perked up to answer – because people are sleeping.
Realizing how tempting it is to sleep during one of the busiest times of the year – the Sunday after Thanksgiving and two record setting shopping days – and during what must be one of the most worrisome economic climates of your lifetime – bringing with it worries over jobs, stocks, and paying the mortgage – though all your kids can think about is bigger and better toys that aren’t going to pay for themselves – the temptation to doze off is understandable.
Recognizing the many challenges we all face during these trying times, I would like to keep you awake this morning with a sermon full of exciting twists and turns – one that will keep you on the edge of your seat with an ever changing plot that keeps you wondering what will happen next. I would love to preach a sermon that is like a good book that you stay up all night to read – one that keeps you turning its pages, not even noticing how tired you are or how soon the sun will rise.
That’s what I would love to preach this morning.
However – our scripture passage today isn’t necessarily suspenseful, though it is mysteriously odd. Its meaning isn’t a mystery, though apocalyptic passages like this one have been made out to be clues laid out for the faithful by modern fiction authors.
Jesus, in this 13th chapter of Mark, doesn’t seem concerned with keeping the reader’s attention. This passage does not employ a tricky plot twist to surprise you or compel you to tune in for the next installment or episode - if anything Mark chapter 13 is the spoiler that gives the ending away 3 chapters early. Here, Jesus tells the disciples what is going to happen in the end. So, as the preacher, I guess I’ll go and do the same thing. The point of this sermon is – Christ is coming.
It feels weird to give the point away like that – but that’s it – Christ is coming. That’s what I have to say – Christ is coming.
I hope I haven’t ruined the sermon or given you permission to catch up on your sleep – but giving the end away is exactly what Jesus does in this 13th chapter.
It’s a lot like the way my wife Sara reads suspenseful books – if things get to be too nerve racking she’ll skip to the last page and read the end before continuing on wherever she left off.
And maybe that’s exactly what Jesus is doing here for the disciples. To relieve their worried minds he skips to the very end, and gives them the last line of the book – Christ is coming.
He had just told them some very bad news – he had just told Peter, James, John, and Andrew that they must be on their guard – for before to long “you will be handed over to the local councils and flogged in the synagogues. On account of me you will stand before governors and kings as witnesses to them… brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child. Children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. All people will hate you because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.”
For the disciples, that is just what happened. After having their palm read by Jesus it’s a wonder they didn’t ask for their money back – truly a wonder they didn’t leave right then and go back to their day jobs. Their futures didn’t hold wealth, prestige, or even health, but according to the Historian, Hippolytus of Rome, Andrew eventually reached his end when he was crucified on an olive tree. James was stoned to death. John died in exile, and Peter was crucified upside down.[1]
Jesus warns them of the hardship that lays ahead, saying, sorry guys, but things are going to get pretty bad.
But then he goes even further here in chapter 13 – drawing them past a sobering, if cruel look at their end – beyond - to the real end – that in the end the owner of the house will return.
Jesus is clear, telling the disciples that hard times are ahead – hard times that may in fact get even harder – but the fig tree that Jesus withered up to nothing back in chapter 11 will soon have tender twigs blossoming with summer’s leaves. That the signs of rebirth – that the signs of Jesus arrival will be all around.
My good friend George takes Jesus’ arrival seriously with a bumper sticker on his car that says, “Jesus is coming – look busy”. The sticker is a warning that seems based on this passage here – “keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back.”
But this passage is not a warning for disobedient teenagers throwing a party, fearful of our parents’ return. This passage is for the children of God – who – after enduring hard times - times of worry, death, sadness, trepidation, facing a future that is at best unknown – and at worst, a future almost certainly worse than the present – that we, the children of God can look forward to the arrival of the one who will put things right.
To the poor and oppressed – your days of want and struggle are numbered – for your liberator is coming.
To the sick – to the heart broken – to the hurting – Jesus is coming – your healer is coming.
To the worried minds left awake at night, searching for some sign that bills will be paid and children provided for – take heart – Jesus is coming.
To the mourning – know that heaven and earth will pass away, but the words of the Lord will never pass away.
And to the given up – to the people of lost hope – Jesus is coming, Jesus is coming, Jesus is coming.
Do not give up.
For the words of Daniel quoted here in Mark are there for us – “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the starts will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.” But these sights are only signs that the Son of Man is coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, “from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.”
This Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent, and it may look like winter out there – but look to the tender branches of the fig tree – Jesus is coming.
The leaves of this tree spring forth in a world that seems to be increasingly selfish, increasingly cold, but where, in a community where homelessness is rising, jobs harder and harder to come by, here we are - members of a church who has opened her doors to the world – a church whose members gave up their Thanksgiving to spend it with the needy in our Fellowship Hall – a church whose members took the time to bake pies and turkeys for people who they don’t even know.
Barb Kell wrote me an email last Friday with her reflections from Thursday’s Thanksgiving dinner for the community in our Fellowship Hall. She said that “I am pretty sure that everyone who came to eat went home feeling the love of Christ shining through all those who served them today.” “That the light was shining and lighting the path, and while we may not know exactly where it leads – I know that the light is shining to show us the way during uncertain times.”
Today we are a people who know suspense – but it may well be the kind of suspense that burns holes in our stomachs rather than the kind of suspense that keeps us turning the pages of a good book. For that reason Jesus gives us the end of the story. He shows us where our path is leading.
Tomorrow may seem uncertain, but in case you didn’t here it before I’ll tell you the end of the story again – Jesus is coming – Jesus is coming – Jesus is coming.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
[1] www.ichthus.info/disciples/intro.html
Monday, November 3, 2008
Who's Afraid of Molech?
Leviticus 20: 1-8, page 85
The Lord said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites: ‘Any Israelite or any alien living in Israel who gives any of his or her children to Molech must be put to death. The people of the community are to stone him or her. I will set my face against that person and I will cut him or her off from the people; for by giving his or her children to Molech, he or she has defiled my sanctuary and profaned my holy name. If the people of the community close their eyes when that man or women gives one of his or her children to Molech and they fail to pit him or her to death, I will set my face against that man or woman and his or her family and will cut off from their people both him or her and all who follow in prostituting themselves to Molech.
“’I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute him or herself by following them, and I will cut him or her off from the people.
“’Consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am the Lord your God. Keep my decrees and follow them. I am the Lord who makes you holy.
Sermon
Halloween is here – or just passed – and fit for the season is this scripture passage on Molech – an idol, but one with powers that make you wonder whether he is real or not.
Such was the case in Salem Massachusetts in 1692. Driven by the fear that three young girls had been afflicted by witchcraft the town took to the warpath. They first accused the most disempowered, the easiest possible scapegoat, a slave woman named Tituba. However her testimony only led to Martha Corey, an upstanding Puritan woman in the community. And while it may have been fine with those Puritans to think about that poor slave woman as a witch, Martha Corey was different – if she was a witch anyone could be a witch. So after her accusation and eventual execution failed to rid the town of witchcraft many more were accused. In the end, logic and justice were suspended. 19 were hanged, one crushed to death under the weight of stones and at least four died in prison while awaiting trial.[1]
The most interesting aspect of this tragic piece of American history to me is that Martha Corey’s execution didn’t solve the problem, but intensified it. Her execution didn’t rid the town from the evil, but the injustice done to her became just the beach-head evil needed to launch it’s attach on Salem. Her accusation and execution hardly rid the town from evil but made things worse as terror-fueled finger-pointing engulfed Salem.
Should someone stand up to question these proceedings, well, what better evidence that the questioner was a witch himself! Salem’s fear of witchcraft only intensified with each accusation, giving that dark magic more and more power.
It started with – our children are at risk! How can we protect them? That fear led the community to blame Martha. But when the problem didn’t go away things only got worse and Molech’s powers doubled, then tripled, until Molech had turned all of Salem Massachusetts into a great ball of fear and blame. They knew that Molech had to be stopped, that the children must be protected, but how?
The Lord said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites: ‘Any Israelite or any alien living in Israel who gives any of their children to Molech must be put to death.’”
They had taken extreme measures – and not just one person but 24 had been put to death, but still the children were at risk.
“I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute him or herself by following them, and I will cut him or her off from the people.”
Indeed, the people of Salem were cut off from each other – cut off by way of fear and finger pointing. No one could be trusted, as anyone could be a witch. The witch could be next door, down the street – you might even be married to a witch.
Molech has to be stopped; the children are at risk, but how can we stop him?
Fear over communism swept through the United States through the 40’s and 50’s. During this time many thousands of Americans were accused of being Communists or communist sympathizers and so became the subject of aggressive investigations and questioning before government or private-industry panels, committees and agencies.
To McCarthy and his proponents, the investigations were necessary – as America could not fall into the hands of the Communists.
The primary targets of such suspicions were government employees, those in the entertainment industry, educators and union activists. The level of fear surrounding communism at this time was simply too great for real justice, so suspicions were often given credence despite inconclusive or questionable evidence, and the level of threat posed by a person's real or supposed leftist associations or beliefs was often greatly exaggerated.[2]
But the communists had to be stopped so what else was there to do but to suspend justice? However, with each accusation the communist threat became greater than it was before.
Molech has to be stopped, the children are at risk, but how can we stop him?
On September 11, 2001 the unfathomable happened. Many were murdered, as Molech was given a new face. Fear swept the county and along with it came water boarding, prisoner abuse, the suspension of rights and justice, and eventually war. To look at the last few years we know that Molech has been at work, but the most lethal weapon of mass destruction that Molech has used against us, the one that has caused the most harm to our country and our world is fear. Out of fear we suspended our values and our sense of justice, and began to look like the monster that they claim we are.
But Molech has to be stopped! What can we do?
We must storm his lair – kill his priests – burn his holy scripture – eradicate him from the face of the earth!
But the problem is that Molech is made of stone, and the only way to stop Molech is to take back the power we gave him.
So the Lord said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites: ‘Any Israelite or ay alien living in Israel who gives his or her children to Molech must be put to death…because I am the Lord your God. Keep my decrees and follow them. I am the Lord, who makes you holy.’”
Molech – Witchcraft – Communism – terrorism?
They are not God. And their power slips away when they can’t feed on our fear.
So the Lord doesn’t command Moses to destroy or eradicate Molech – that would only validate his power over the Israelites and Molech isn’t responsible for the evil being done among the Israelites.
Molech – was Molech responsible? No – it was the Israelites who turned to this idol who were responsible for the horrors done to their children.
Witchcraft tore the town of Salem apart – but was some witch the source of the chaos? No, the chaos was a result of the people’s fear of witchcraft.
Communism ate at the seams of American society – but were the Russians truly that crafty? No, the injustice done was not a result of communism, but the people’s fear of communism.
And terrorism – could Osama Bin Laden have orchestrated the mess that we are in? Is he so powerful that he could have pulled the rug out from under the economy – certainly not? But isn’t what is happening now exactly what he would have wanted.
As the economy flops, as we react out of desperation and worry – our greatest defense against terror is to never fuel his strength with our fear.
We are not at the mercy of any idol or any person.
So Moses charges us – Do not prostitute yourselves to idols – do not give your power away.
Who is it that can hold you hostage? Who can prevent you from doing and getting what you want? Is it the democrats, the republicans; is it your boss, your spouse? Do you work at a job you hate, but feel as though you can’t quit because you fear losing security?
When we honor these other gods with our fear, we disempower ourselves and know the jaws of Molech.
For Molech – Witchcraft – the Communists – the terrorists – teachers – friends – drugs – alcohol – may have power, but what they intrinsically have is nothing compared to the power they posses when we give our power over to them through fear.
There is only one living God - and while this living God demands your life just as Molech does, it is not so that you might die – though even death has lost its sting by the hands of our God – it is so that in dying to the fears, wants, and worrier of this world that you might truly live.
-Amen.
[1] http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/salem.htm
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McCarthyism
The Lord said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites: ‘Any Israelite or any alien living in Israel who gives any of his or her children to Molech must be put to death. The people of the community are to stone him or her. I will set my face against that person and I will cut him or her off from the people; for by giving his or her children to Molech, he or she has defiled my sanctuary and profaned my holy name. If the people of the community close their eyes when that man or women gives one of his or her children to Molech and they fail to pit him or her to death, I will set my face against that man or woman and his or her family and will cut off from their people both him or her and all who follow in prostituting themselves to Molech.
“’I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute him or herself by following them, and I will cut him or her off from the people.
“’Consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am the Lord your God. Keep my decrees and follow them. I am the Lord who makes you holy.
Sermon
Halloween is here – or just passed – and fit for the season is this scripture passage on Molech – an idol, but one with powers that make you wonder whether he is real or not.
Such was the case in Salem Massachusetts in 1692. Driven by the fear that three young girls had been afflicted by witchcraft the town took to the warpath. They first accused the most disempowered, the easiest possible scapegoat, a slave woman named Tituba. However her testimony only led to Martha Corey, an upstanding Puritan woman in the community. And while it may have been fine with those Puritans to think about that poor slave woman as a witch, Martha Corey was different – if she was a witch anyone could be a witch. So after her accusation and eventual execution failed to rid the town of witchcraft many more were accused. In the end, logic and justice were suspended. 19 were hanged, one crushed to death under the weight of stones and at least four died in prison while awaiting trial.[1]
The most interesting aspect of this tragic piece of American history to me is that Martha Corey’s execution didn’t solve the problem, but intensified it. Her execution didn’t rid the town from the evil, but the injustice done to her became just the beach-head evil needed to launch it’s attach on Salem. Her accusation and execution hardly rid the town from evil but made things worse as terror-fueled finger-pointing engulfed Salem.
Should someone stand up to question these proceedings, well, what better evidence that the questioner was a witch himself! Salem’s fear of witchcraft only intensified with each accusation, giving that dark magic more and more power.
It started with – our children are at risk! How can we protect them? That fear led the community to blame Martha. But when the problem didn’t go away things only got worse and Molech’s powers doubled, then tripled, until Molech had turned all of Salem Massachusetts into a great ball of fear and blame. They knew that Molech had to be stopped, that the children must be protected, but how?
The Lord said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites: ‘Any Israelite or any alien living in Israel who gives any of their children to Molech must be put to death.’”
They had taken extreme measures – and not just one person but 24 had been put to death, but still the children were at risk.
“I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute him or herself by following them, and I will cut him or her off from the people.”
Indeed, the people of Salem were cut off from each other – cut off by way of fear and finger pointing. No one could be trusted, as anyone could be a witch. The witch could be next door, down the street – you might even be married to a witch.
Molech has to be stopped; the children are at risk, but how can we stop him?
Fear over communism swept through the United States through the 40’s and 50’s. During this time many thousands of Americans were accused of being Communists or communist sympathizers and so became the subject of aggressive investigations and questioning before government or private-industry panels, committees and agencies.
To McCarthy and his proponents, the investigations were necessary – as America could not fall into the hands of the Communists.
The primary targets of such suspicions were government employees, those in the entertainment industry, educators and union activists. The level of fear surrounding communism at this time was simply too great for real justice, so suspicions were often given credence despite inconclusive or questionable evidence, and the level of threat posed by a person's real or supposed leftist associations or beliefs was often greatly exaggerated.[2]
But the communists had to be stopped so what else was there to do but to suspend justice? However, with each accusation the communist threat became greater than it was before.
Molech has to be stopped, the children are at risk, but how can we stop him?
On September 11, 2001 the unfathomable happened. Many were murdered, as Molech was given a new face. Fear swept the county and along with it came water boarding, prisoner abuse, the suspension of rights and justice, and eventually war. To look at the last few years we know that Molech has been at work, but the most lethal weapon of mass destruction that Molech has used against us, the one that has caused the most harm to our country and our world is fear. Out of fear we suspended our values and our sense of justice, and began to look like the monster that they claim we are.
But Molech has to be stopped! What can we do?
We must storm his lair – kill his priests – burn his holy scripture – eradicate him from the face of the earth!
But the problem is that Molech is made of stone, and the only way to stop Molech is to take back the power we gave him.
So the Lord said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites: ‘Any Israelite or ay alien living in Israel who gives his or her children to Molech must be put to death…because I am the Lord your God. Keep my decrees and follow them. I am the Lord, who makes you holy.’”
Molech – Witchcraft – Communism – terrorism?
They are not God. And their power slips away when they can’t feed on our fear.
So the Lord doesn’t command Moses to destroy or eradicate Molech – that would only validate his power over the Israelites and Molech isn’t responsible for the evil being done among the Israelites.
Molech – was Molech responsible? No – it was the Israelites who turned to this idol who were responsible for the horrors done to their children.
Witchcraft tore the town of Salem apart – but was some witch the source of the chaos? No, the chaos was a result of the people’s fear of witchcraft.
Communism ate at the seams of American society – but were the Russians truly that crafty? No, the injustice done was not a result of communism, but the people’s fear of communism.
And terrorism – could Osama Bin Laden have orchestrated the mess that we are in? Is he so powerful that he could have pulled the rug out from under the economy – certainly not? But isn’t what is happening now exactly what he would have wanted.
As the economy flops, as we react out of desperation and worry – our greatest defense against terror is to never fuel his strength with our fear.
We are not at the mercy of any idol or any person.
So Moses charges us – Do not prostitute yourselves to idols – do not give your power away.
Who is it that can hold you hostage? Who can prevent you from doing and getting what you want? Is it the democrats, the republicans; is it your boss, your spouse? Do you work at a job you hate, but feel as though you can’t quit because you fear losing security?
When we honor these other gods with our fear, we disempower ourselves and know the jaws of Molech.
For Molech – Witchcraft – the Communists – the terrorists – teachers – friends – drugs – alcohol – may have power, but what they intrinsically have is nothing compared to the power they posses when we give our power over to them through fear.
There is only one living God - and while this living God demands your life just as Molech does, it is not so that you might die – though even death has lost its sting by the hands of our God – it is so that in dying to the fears, wants, and worrier of this world that you might truly live.
-Amen.
[1] http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/salem.htm
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McCarthyism
Monday, October 13, 2008
Who Will Light the Way?
1 Thessalonians 2: 1-13
You know, brothers and sisters, that our visit to you was not a failure. We had previously suffered and been insulted in Philippi, as you know, but with the help of our God we dared to tell you the gospel in spite of strong opposition. For the appeal we make does not spring from error or impure motives, nor are we trying to trick you. On the contrary, we speak as those approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please men or women but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed – God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from men or women, not from you or anyone else.
As apostles of Christ we could have been a burden to you, but we were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children. We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us. Surely you remember brothers and sisters, our toil and hardship; we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you.
You are witnesses, and so is God, of how holy, righteous and blameless we were among you who believed. For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into the Kingdom and glory.
And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of mortals, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe.
Sermon
Maybe I should have grown out of it by now, but the reality is that I am still pretty skittish about being alone in the dark. Left behind in a dark basement, on a trail through the woods at night all by myself, or swimming in a lake or pond where I can’t see the bottom I’ll start to worry about what might be there hidden by shadow without a light to show me exactly what’s there.
Just a few years ago I went to see a horror movie called What Lies Beneath. At some point in the movie a half-decomposed arm reaches up to grab a woman on the leg, pulling her down into the water – or that’s pretty much what happened. I don’t remember exactly what happened because I didn’t see it all. As soon as the arm reached up I screamed and covered my eyes. When I opened my eyes again it was to face two 10-year-old girls who couldn’t stop laughing at me.
I have been thinking about this fear of the unknown lately again, and though I didn’t react quite the same way, as Sara and I watched the presidential debates last Tuesday night I began to be afraid of what lies ahead – not in a dark basement, a trail through the woods, or at the bottom of a lake, but what is going to happen to this country in the next few years. We are approaching a new time in history, a time that seems like none I have lived through before, and so I am afraid, as the future is unknown without a light to show me exactly what’s ahead.
The debates opened with a question about the economy, to which each candidate opened with words that weren’t so assuring for me. Barak Obama opened his response with: I think everybody knows now we are in the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. And a lot of you I think are worried about your jobs, your pensions, your retirement accounts, your ability to send your child or your grandchild to college.
And then from John McCain: you go to the heart of America’s worries tonight. Americans are angry, they’re upset, and they’re a little fearful. It’s our job to fix the problem.[1]
What I really wanted to hear one of them say would have been: “You are just having a nightmare. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Everything is fine.”
But judging from the pictures coming out of Wall Street, most of which show a stock broker looking agonized with his face in his hands, this financial crisis is not like an imaginary monster hiding in the basement, woods, or at the bottom of a lake. This is a real problem that we are going to be dealing with for a long time, and I don’t know what to expect as there isn’t someone up ahead showing us that we’ll get through it soon enough.
But we are not the first community to go into uncharted territory. The Thessalonian Christians, by virtue of becoming Christians, turned their back to what they had known, what their parents had taught, they changed the course of their lives away from what was expected and controllable into the unknown.
They walked away from what was normal and predictable, and they left behind friends who would talk behind their back and parents who would wonder where they went wrong. These Christians stepped out into the unknown; walking towards Christ but away from what was predictable.
It’s possible that they didn’t expect this kind of sacrifice, so as they ran into persecution and discrimination from the Roman authorities, they must have played with the idea of heading back home, maybe not back to mothers and fathers who would tell them that everything is going to be alright, but back to the rhythms of life that they recognized, to the pagan religious system that was permissible.
Maybe in response to their waning faith, Paul addresses them like a brother, saying “you know brothers and sisters, that our visit to you was not a failure,” that you were led away from a pagan culture for a reason. To make the transition easier, knowing that starting a new life isn’t easy at all, Paul address them as a mother saying, “But we were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children.” Then as a father saying, “For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting, and urging you to live lives worthy of God,” so that you might continue on despite the temptation to return to the way things were.
In this way Paul and his fellow evangelists step forward to light the way. In the vacancy of their earthly brothers, mothers, and fathers, Paul and his companions tell the Thessalonian Christians, that “this new faith is hard, you will encounter hardship as we have, but you have to keep the faith. You are a part of something more as God is at work in you.”
Words like these that can bring us hope as we step out into uncertainty, as these words can light the way. They are encouraging signs left behind by the faithful who have traveled the same path that we follow now.
They light the way, like my grandfather’s memories, giving me stories to help me believe that I really can live without cable TV, a car, or a daily trip to the grocery store – that the fact that my dogs love to chase after squirrels might not be such a bad thing, as he, like others in our congregation, know a good recipe for squirrel soup should we need to skimp on groceries.
Scripture lights the way, to remind us that even when the chosen people were exiled in Babylon God’s promises did not fade, that even when the Temple was destroyed, Jerusalem seemingly lost, God was making a way where there was no way, leading the Israelites in a new song unlike the one they sang before.
I certainly don’t mean to say that our economic challenges are nothing; just that scripture tells us that where God’s people walk, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not consume it.
I don’t mean that life is without challenges or bumps along the road, that stocks that climb won’t come crashing down, but that generations rise and fall while the word of God endures forever.
I don’t mean that it won’t be seriously uncomfortable when the oil runs dry, but that there is no bottom to the depths of the love of God whose word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.
So we cannot encounter hardship with complete fear, as the memories of those who have walked through hardship – through captivity, slavery, depression, heartache, divorce, war, hardship, poverty, and conflict go on before us to light the way.
We are a part of something bigger that is being done in our midst.
As a church, it can be easy to think that we will never get back to the way it was, and the truth is, maybe we won’t. We look out into an unknown future, wondering who we will be if we aren’t who we were? What does the future hold in a changing county, in a changing word? Scripture tells us that the word of God is at work in us, and that the chapter in the book of life on Good Shepherd is not closed, but being written now as we take encouragement from our past to lead us into our future.
As a people growing older, it can be easy to wonder about the future, what will happen next. The kids are gone, work is done, so what happens now? Have you reached the end of your ability to contribute to society? Are you spent? Hardly. You must hold onto the memories of your life, using those memories to light the way for generation who need you to light the way.
In changing family structures, being single may mean a longing for family made whole again. Wishing you could go back to the way it was because that is what seems normal. But don’t forget what God is doing – that we must keep going towards the joy that lies ahead.
Change is a part of our lives, and as our country changes some wonder if God can love the United States if the Christian majority is lost. Christianity is becoming another faith in an increasingly secular culture. In these times we must return to scripture to remember the Israelites who lived through Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon, the Thessalonian Christians who lived through Rome despite discrimination – to be reminded that we are not a passing fad – that we are the people of god and that the word of God is working through us – living, breathing, bringing something new to a world that is not just running short on oil, but on hope, purpose, joy, and love.
God’s will is being done through us. We are a part of this great thing even now.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
[1] USNews and World Report, Hot Docs: AIG Bailout and Spa Visits, Sarah Palin's Assets, and Toxic Trailers, Posted October 8, 2008.
You know, brothers and sisters, that our visit to you was not a failure. We had previously suffered and been insulted in Philippi, as you know, but with the help of our God we dared to tell you the gospel in spite of strong opposition. For the appeal we make does not spring from error or impure motives, nor are we trying to trick you. On the contrary, we speak as those approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please men or women but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed – God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from men or women, not from you or anyone else.
As apostles of Christ we could have been a burden to you, but we were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children. We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us. Surely you remember brothers and sisters, our toil and hardship; we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you.
You are witnesses, and so is God, of how holy, righteous and blameless we were among you who believed. For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into the Kingdom and glory.
And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of mortals, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is at work in you who believe.
Sermon
Maybe I should have grown out of it by now, but the reality is that I am still pretty skittish about being alone in the dark. Left behind in a dark basement, on a trail through the woods at night all by myself, or swimming in a lake or pond where I can’t see the bottom I’ll start to worry about what might be there hidden by shadow without a light to show me exactly what’s there.
Just a few years ago I went to see a horror movie called What Lies Beneath. At some point in the movie a half-decomposed arm reaches up to grab a woman on the leg, pulling her down into the water – or that’s pretty much what happened. I don’t remember exactly what happened because I didn’t see it all. As soon as the arm reached up I screamed and covered my eyes. When I opened my eyes again it was to face two 10-year-old girls who couldn’t stop laughing at me.
I have been thinking about this fear of the unknown lately again, and though I didn’t react quite the same way, as Sara and I watched the presidential debates last Tuesday night I began to be afraid of what lies ahead – not in a dark basement, a trail through the woods, or at the bottom of a lake, but what is going to happen to this country in the next few years. We are approaching a new time in history, a time that seems like none I have lived through before, and so I am afraid, as the future is unknown without a light to show me exactly what’s ahead.
The debates opened with a question about the economy, to which each candidate opened with words that weren’t so assuring for me. Barak Obama opened his response with: I think everybody knows now we are in the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. And a lot of you I think are worried about your jobs, your pensions, your retirement accounts, your ability to send your child or your grandchild to college.
And then from John McCain: you go to the heart of America’s worries tonight. Americans are angry, they’re upset, and they’re a little fearful. It’s our job to fix the problem.[1]
What I really wanted to hear one of them say would have been: “You are just having a nightmare. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Everything is fine.”
But judging from the pictures coming out of Wall Street, most of which show a stock broker looking agonized with his face in his hands, this financial crisis is not like an imaginary monster hiding in the basement, woods, or at the bottom of a lake. This is a real problem that we are going to be dealing with for a long time, and I don’t know what to expect as there isn’t someone up ahead showing us that we’ll get through it soon enough.
But we are not the first community to go into uncharted territory. The Thessalonian Christians, by virtue of becoming Christians, turned their back to what they had known, what their parents had taught, they changed the course of their lives away from what was expected and controllable into the unknown.
They walked away from what was normal and predictable, and they left behind friends who would talk behind their back and parents who would wonder where they went wrong. These Christians stepped out into the unknown; walking towards Christ but away from what was predictable.
It’s possible that they didn’t expect this kind of sacrifice, so as they ran into persecution and discrimination from the Roman authorities, they must have played with the idea of heading back home, maybe not back to mothers and fathers who would tell them that everything is going to be alright, but back to the rhythms of life that they recognized, to the pagan religious system that was permissible.
Maybe in response to their waning faith, Paul addresses them like a brother, saying “you know brothers and sisters, that our visit to you was not a failure,” that you were led away from a pagan culture for a reason. To make the transition easier, knowing that starting a new life isn’t easy at all, Paul address them as a mother saying, “But we were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children.” Then as a father saying, “For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting, and urging you to live lives worthy of God,” so that you might continue on despite the temptation to return to the way things were.
In this way Paul and his fellow evangelists step forward to light the way. In the vacancy of their earthly brothers, mothers, and fathers, Paul and his companions tell the Thessalonian Christians, that “this new faith is hard, you will encounter hardship as we have, but you have to keep the faith. You are a part of something more as God is at work in you.”
Words like these that can bring us hope as we step out into uncertainty, as these words can light the way. They are encouraging signs left behind by the faithful who have traveled the same path that we follow now.
They light the way, like my grandfather’s memories, giving me stories to help me believe that I really can live without cable TV, a car, or a daily trip to the grocery store – that the fact that my dogs love to chase after squirrels might not be such a bad thing, as he, like others in our congregation, know a good recipe for squirrel soup should we need to skimp on groceries.
Scripture lights the way, to remind us that even when the chosen people were exiled in Babylon God’s promises did not fade, that even when the Temple was destroyed, Jerusalem seemingly lost, God was making a way where there was no way, leading the Israelites in a new song unlike the one they sang before.
I certainly don’t mean to say that our economic challenges are nothing; just that scripture tells us that where God’s people walk, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not consume it.
I don’t mean that life is without challenges or bumps along the road, that stocks that climb won’t come crashing down, but that generations rise and fall while the word of God endures forever.
I don’t mean that it won’t be seriously uncomfortable when the oil runs dry, but that there is no bottom to the depths of the love of God whose word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.
So we cannot encounter hardship with complete fear, as the memories of those who have walked through hardship – through captivity, slavery, depression, heartache, divorce, war, hardship, poverty, and conflict go on before us to light the way.
We are a part of something bigger that is being done in our midst.
As a church, it can be easy to think that we will never get back to the way it was, and the truth is, maybe we won’t. We look out into an unknown future, wondering who we will be if we aren’t who we were? What does the future hold in a changing county, in a changing word? Scripture tells us that the word of God is at work in us, and that the chapter in the book of life on Good Shepherd is not closed, but being written now as we take encouragement from our past to lead us into our future.
As a people growing older, it can be easy to wonder about the future, what will happen next. The kids are gone, work is done, so what happens now? Have you reached the end of your ability to contribute to society? Are you spent? Hardly. You must hold onto the memories of your life, using those memories to light the way for generation who need you to light the way.
In changing family structures, being single may mean a longing for family made whole again. Wishing you could go back to the way it was because that is what seems normal. But don’t forget what God is doing – that we must keep going towards the joy that lies ahead.
Change is a part of our lives, and as our country changes some wonder if God can love the United States if the Christian majority is lost. Christianity is becoming another faith in an increasingly secular culture. In these times we must return to scripture to remember the Israelites who lived through Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon, the Thessalonian Christians who lived through Rome despite discrimination – to be reminded that we are not a passing fad – that we are the people of god and that the word of God is working through us – living, breathing, bringing something new to a world that is not just running short on oil, but on hope, purpose, joy, and love.
God’s will is being done through us. We are a part of this great thing even now.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
[1] USNews and World Report, Hot Docs: AIG Bailout and Spa Visits, Sarah Palin's Assets, and Toxic Trailers, Posted October 8, 2008.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
The Maintenance of Divine Worship
1 Corinthians 14: 22-33a page 814
Tongues, then, are a sign, not for believers but for unbelievers; prophecy, however, is for believers, not for unbelievers. So if the whole church comes together and everyone speaks in tongues, and some who do not understand or some unbelievers come in, will they not say that you are out of your mind?
But if an unbeliever or someone who does not understand comes in while everybody is prophesying, he or she will be convinced by all that he or she is a sinner and will be judged by all, and the secrets of his or her heart will be laid bare.
So he or she will fall down and worship God, exclaiming, “God is really among you!”
What then shall we say, brothers and sisters? When you come together, everyone has a hymn or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church. If anyone speaks in a tongue, two – or at the most three – should speak, one at a time, and someone must interpret. If there is no interpreter, the speaker should keep quiet in the church and speak to him or herself and God.
Two or three prophets should speak, and the others should weigh carefully what is said. And if a revelation comes to someone who is sitting down, the first speaker should stop. For you can all prophesy in turn so that everyone may be instructed and encouraged. The spirits of prophets are subject to the control of the prophets. For God is not a God if disorder but of peace.
Sermon
Paul writes this letter to a pre-denominational Church; a church where slave and slave owner, Pentecostal and Presbyterian, young and old all worshiped together in one place. There was no bulletin, no set order for worship, and no hymnal as know it. There was singing, and people spoke, but with so many different kinds of people celebrating God all at once without much organization, Paul, out of obligation and in light of his reading of Genesis, calls this Church to order. With the words, “For God is not a God of disorder but of peace,” he calls the Corinthian Church back to the Creation of the Heavens and the Earth when God called order out of chaos.
With creation on his mind, Paul offers rules for worship as though he was a 3rd grade teacher calling order to a classroom: “If anyone speaks in a tongue, two – or at the most three – should speak, one at a time, and someone must interpret. If there is no interpreter, the speaker should keep quiet in the church and speak to him or herself and God,” and so on. These words are challenging in that we know that Churches don’t like change, that we like to think that the way we have been doing is the way it has always been, just as God created it to be. We forget that worship, like creation, is not something God made and then left to its own devices, as God continues to work change all around us.
But that doesn’t mean we have to like it.
I don’t know how the Corinthian congregation reacted, but I am thankful I was not the one who, after giving the benediction, had to wait at the door to hear from every disgruntled parishioner as they left the service.
As a seminary student, that time at the door became one of my favorite parts of the service. I was encouraged to think of myself as a good preacher so I had compliments to look forward to. In fact, the seminary thought I was good enough for them to send me to different churches around the South East to promote the seminary while I was still a student, and on a trip to Jacksonville FL I was given the opportunity to preach at a church I had never been to before. I preached a theologically sound sermon, one based on Jesus’ time in the wilderness, centering on the Liturgical Season of Lent. I did well in the sense that I was preaching a sermon any lifetime Presbyterian would have been proud to hear, inspiring a sense of pride and confidence in the kind of students being produced by Columbia Theological Seminary.
After giving the benediction I walked to the door as the congregation left and as folks left the sanctuary I got handshakes and encouraging words making my ego just a little bit bigger. Finally the last to exit approached me, a man in a suit that looked like it had been slept in who had walked into the sanctuary half way through the service. He walked up to me and asked me a question: “son, what year are you in seminary?”
“I’m in my third year sir.”
“Three years of school then.”“Yes sir.”
He took a long look at me in the eye and said, “Well, they should have taught you something better than that by now. Non-believers would have walked out this morning just the same as they walked in.”
He wasn’t the first person to question my homiletical greatness, but no one had ever been quite so blunt before. I was also taken off guard as this man wasn’t a member of the session, wasn’t a founding member of the church, in fact, I later learned that this man had never attended that church before, so it was hard to see what obligated him to let me know his dissatisfaction.
He walked in late, dressed wrong, and spoke bluntly.
I wasn’t speaking in tongues, but this man who walked in the church service reacted just as Paul expected the unbeliever who entered the church in Corinth to react. What I said didn’t make any sense to him. It was inaccessible, and so meaningless.
We are short sighted if we read this passage from 1st Corinthians and think that Paul calls for orderly worship for the sake of those men and women who had already seen and heard the good news. Paul calls for orderly worship for the sake of those who are just now walking in, as well as those who aren’t here yet, but who are on their way.
For the Corinthian Church and for all churches, Paul claims that we must not speak in tongues if they cannot be interpreted, prophecy all at once so that no one can be heard clearly, houghty-toughty seminary jargon if it can’t be understood, or in symbolic code words if they only make sense to us, but to use language that is accessible, to worship in a way that makes room for the people who aren’t here yet but who are on their way.
The Great End of the Church that we are concerned with in the sermon for this week is the Maintenance of Divine Worship – maintenance, and not an ownership of worship. There is importance in that choice of words. If we have been given the responsibility of maintaining worship today we are obligated to remember that we only hold this honorable responsibility for a brief time, until the maintenance of worship passes to those who aren’t here yet, but who are on their way.
In some ways it would have been easier to get acclimated to that Corinthian Church. There was no Apostle’s Creed to remember, no Lord’s Prayer to recite with your eyes closed, no foundation of faith you’d be embarrassed not to have. Not only was it a time before the words, “I believe in the Holy Catholic Church,” but it would have been a time when we could have admitted we don’t know what those words really mean.
Like many Christians who have been in our shoes before, we have reached a challenging time in history, a time when the words we speak seem like another language to those just outside our door. It is a time when we must be bold to hold onto those tenants of belief that matter, but Paul reminds us that now we must be about teaching those tenants in a way that makes the truth they hold accessible.
Like the great Reformers Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Ulrich Zwingli, three men who did for the 16th Century what Paul did for the 1st, we have reached a point in time where we are called to reexamine tradition; asking if our traditions are accessible, or are we like the Corinthian Church, a litany of voices all at once in tongues that aren’t understood.
Just as Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli called the 16th Century Church’s Latin mass to question – demanding that the words spoke in worship be spoken not in an ancient language but in the language the congregation actually spoke, so we are called to examine what we believe and how we articulate that belief.
We fight about what kind of church we will become – a Purpose Driven Church a Discipleship Church; a church with a mission and a mission statement.
Our struggles seem worth fighting for, as we know what they are about and what is at stake. But what does a struggle within the session mean to those who do not know what a session is?
In a denomination that argues over homosexuality, abortion, or translating the Bible, it is time to ask if these issues really matter to a society of people who struggle with home foreclosure, diversity, gas prices, or putting food on the table.
We are called to the maintenance of this divine worship – a responsibility that we will have to pass on as worship in this church will last far beyond our short time on this earth. Worship will go on in this place without us, assuming that we make room for the people who aren’t here yet, but who are on their way. Making room for the questions that need to be asked. Making room by speaking words that matter in a way that can be understood. Making room by bringing order to what a nonbeliever would see as chaos. Making room by remembering that we are not the owners of this church and her worship, and that the church’s future does not rest solely on our shoulders. Making room for those who aren’t here yet but who are on their way, that they might look at us and exclaim: “God is really among you!”
Tongues, then, are a sign, not for believers but for unbelievers; prophecy, however, is for believers, not for unbelievers. So if the whole church comes together and everyone speaks in tongues, and some who do not understand or some unbelievers come in, will they not say that you are out of your mind?
But if an unbeliever or someone who does not understand comes in while everybody is prophesying, he or she will be convinced by all that he or she is a sinner and will be judged by all, and the secrets of his or her heart will be laid bare.
So he or she will fall down and worship God, exclaiming, “God is really among you!”
What then shall we say, brothers and sisters? When you come together, everyone has a hymn or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church. If anyone speaks in a tongue, two – or at the most three – should speak, one at a time, and someone must interpret. If there is no interpreter, the speaker should keep quiet in the church and speak to him or herself and God.
Two or three prophets should speak, and the others should weigh carefully what is said. And if a revelation comes to someone who is sitting down, the first speaker should stop. For you can all prophesy in turn so that everyone may be instructed and encouraged. The spirits of prophets are subject to the control of the prophets. For God is not a God if disorder but of peace.
Sermon
Paul writes this letter to a pre-denominational Church; a church where slave and slave owner, Pentecostal and Presbyterian, young and old all worshiped together in one place. There was no bulletin, no set order for worship, and no hymnal as know it. There was singing, and people spoke, but with so many different kinds of people celebrating God all at once without much organization, Paul, out of obligation and in light of his reading of Genesis, calls this Church to order. With the words, “For God is not a God of disorder but of peace,” he calls the Corinthian Church back to the Creation of the Heavens and the Earth when God called order out of chaos.
With creation on his mind, Paul offers rules for worship as though he was a 3rd grade teacher calling order to a classroom: “If anyone speaks in a tongue, two – or at the most three – should speak, one at a time, and someone must interpret. If there is no interpreter, the speaker should keep quiet in the church and speak to him or herself and God,” and so on. These words are challenging in that we know that Churches don’t like change, that we like to think that the way we have been doing is the way it has always been, just as God created it to be. We forget that worship, like creation, is not something God made and then left to its own devices, as God continues to work change all around us.
But that doesn’t mean we have to like it.
I don’t know how the Corinthian congregation reacted, but I am thankful I was not the one who, after giving the benediction, had to wait at the door to hear from every disgruntled parishioner as they left the service.
As a seminary student, that time at the door became one of my favorite parts of the service. I was encouraged to think of myself as a good preacher so I had compliments to look forward to. In fact, the seminary thought I was good enough for them to send me to different churches around the South East to promote the seminary while I was still a student, and on a trip to Jacksonville FL I was given the opportunity to preach at a church I had never been to before. I preached a theologically sound sermon, one based on Jesus’ time in the wilderness, centering on the Liturgical Season of Lent. I did well in the sense that I was preaching a sermon any lifetime Presbyterian would have been proud to hear, inspiring a sense of pride and confidence in the kind of students being produced by Columbia Theological Seminary.
After giving the benediction I walked to the door as the congregation left and as folks left the sanctuary I got handshakes and encouraging words making my ego just a little bit bigger. Finally the last to exit approached me, a man in a suit that looked like it had been slept in who had walked into the sanctuary half way through the service. He walked up to me and asked me a question: “son, what year are you in seminary?”
“I’m in my third year sir.”
“Three years of school then.”“Yes sir.”
He took a long look at me in the eye and said, “Well, they should have taught you something better than that by now. Non-believers would have walked out this morning just the same as they walked in.”
He wasn’t the first person to question my homiletical greatness, but no one had ever been quite so blunt before. I was also taken off guard as this man wasn’t a member of the session, wasn’t a founding member of the church, in fact, I later learned that this man had never attended that church before, so it was hard to see what obligated him to let me know his dissatisfaction.
He walked in late, dressed wrong, and spoke bluntly.
I wasn’t speaking in tongues, but this man who walked in the church service reacted just as Paul expected the unbeliever who entered the church in Corinth to react. What I said didn’t make any sense to him. It was inaccessible, and so meaningless.
We are short sighted if we read this passage from 1st Corinthians and think that Paul calls for orderly worship for the sake of those men and women who had already seen and heard the good news. Paul calls for orderly worship for the sake of those who are just now walking in, as well as those who aren’t here yet, but who are on their way.
For the Corinthian Church and for all churches, Paul claims that we must not speak in tongues if they cannot be interpreted, prophecy all at once so that no one can be heard clearly, houghty-toughty seminary jargon if it can’t be understood, or in symbolic code words if they only make sense to us, but to use language that is accessible, to worship in a way that makes room for the people who aren’t here yet but who are on their way.
The Great End of the Church that we are concerned with in the sermon for this week is the Maintenance of Divine Worship – maintenance, and not an ownership of worship. There is importance in that choice of words. If we have been given the responsibility of maintaining worship today we are obligated to remember that we only hold this honorable responsibility for a brief time, until the maintenance of worship passes to those who aren’t here yet, but who are on their way.
In some ways it would have been easier to get acclimated to that Corinthian Church. There was no Apostle’s Creed to remember, no Lord’s Prayer to recite with your eyes closed, no foundation of faith you’d be embarrassed not to have. Not only was it a time before the words, “I believe in the Holy Catholic Church,” but it would have been a time when we could have admitted we don’t know what those words really mean.
Like many Christians who have been in our shoes before, we have reached a challenging time in history, a time when the words we speak seem like another language to those just outside our door. It is a time when we must be bold to hold onto those tenants of belief that matter, but Paul reminds us that now we must be about teaching those tenants in a way that makes the truth they hold accessible.
Like the great Reformers Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Ulrich Zwingli, three men who did for the 16th Century what Paul did for the 1st, we have reached a point in time where we are called to reexamine tradition; asking if our traditions are accessible, or are we like the Corinthian Church, a litany of voices all at once in tongues that aren’t understood.
Just as Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli called the 16th Century Church’s Latin mass to question – demanding that the words spoke in worship be spoken not in an ancient language but in the language the congregation actually spoke, so we are called to examine what we believe and how we articulate that belief.
We fight about what kind of church we will become – a Purpose Driven Church a Discipleship Church; a church with a mission and a mission statement.
Our struggles seem worth fighting for, as we know what they are about and what is at stake. But what does a struggle within the session mean to those who do not know what a session is?
In a denomination that argues over homosexuality, abortion, or translating the Bible, it is time to ask if these issues really matter to a society of people who struggle with home foreclosure, diversity, gas prices, or putting food on the table.
We are called to the maintenance of this divine worship – a responsibility that we will have to pass on as worship in this church will last far beyond our short time on this earth. Worship will go on in this place without us, assuming that we make room for the people who aren’t here yet, but who are on their way. Making room for the questions that need to be asked. Making room by speaking words that matter in a way that can be understood. Making room by bringing order to what a nonbeliever would see as chaos. Making room by remembering that we are not the owners of this church and her worship, and that the church’s future does not rest solely on our shoulders. Making room for those who aren’t here yet but who are on their way, that they might look at us and exclaim: “God is really among you!”
Monday, August 4, 2008
What Kind of Miracle?
Matthew 14: 13-21, page 692
When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.
As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”
Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”
“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.
“Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.
Sermon
I saw a Haitian painting this last week, published in “The Wilson Quarterly,” a journal published by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. I’m not really a scholar, but one in our congregation bought me a subscription recently and I’ve at least been able to enjoy the pictures.
The painting, titled, “Paradise on Earth,” features Adam and Eve lounging under a tree, seemingly without a care in the world surrounded by animals and fruits to eat. Wilson Bigaud, the artist, looks on this scene with nostalgia it would seem. Looking back at the moment when Eve, seduced by the snake to eat from that one tree off-limits in a forest of plenty, reaches for the apple. Genesis tells it as though it were the decision that exiled human kind from a life that was easy, where there was plenty for everyone.[1]
It’s significant that the painting is from a Haitian painter, considering how far the Haitian people have come from a land of plenty. As rice prices climb, this country, close to the hearts of many in this congregation, is more in need than ever. Their situation is not unique, and according to the United Nations World Food Program, today hungry people riot in the streets of the world out of desperation with high food prices that threaten to plunge more than 100 million people into hunger.[2]
In one sense, it is in this context that Jesus responds, providing food to people who do not have enough, to people hungry, struggling to eek out a living.
But we know that considering the limitations of medicine in the ancient world, it was not only the poor who sought Jesus out, but also the wealthy. In need of a miracle, people who no doubt had plenty, if not more than enough to eat, also sought Jesus out.
Of course, they would have been amazed by this man who, “Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to haven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves,” then fed 5,000 men, not even counting the women and children and managed to have 12 baskets full left over.
But this kind of miracle wouldn’t have given them anything they didn’t already have. We know that the wealthy in Roman society often gave banquets celebrating with friends who would eat and eat to the point of explosion, often forcing themselves to vomit in the alley so they could return to the feast and do it all over again.
It’s true that prices have been rising in our grocery stores, causing us all to tighten our belts during an economic crunch, but I can relate better, even to this picture of the Roman elite than the poor in the ancient or modern world.
Like an Ancient Roman Banquet, my first trip to an all-you-can eat buffalo wing restaurant was not an exercise in restraint but excess, and it didn’t take me long before my pants felt too right, my skin felt clammy, and I was making my own trip to the bathroom, though I didn’t return to the feast so I might do it all over again.
I recognize then, that what I need is not a miracle of multiplying loaves and fishes, but something else.
Like Adam and Eve, tempted by the snake from the Garden of Eden to go for more, it is not want that I suffer from.
So it strikes me as miraculous, not only that Jesus fed these 5,000 men, in addition to all the women and children, but also, that the wealthy in the crowd “ate and were satisfied.”
While we do live in a society where our most essential needs are met, ironically, we don’t often experience true satisfaction. So for us, Jesus provides a different kind of miracle.
A journalist specializing in consumerism named Rob Walker recently wrote a book titled: Buying In: The Secret Dialogue Between What We Buy and Who We Are. In this book he analyzes a study that polled middle class families, asking them: Which products could they simply not live without. They were asked about their dishwasher, clothes washer and dryer, home computer, microwave oven, high-speed Internet service, air-conditioning, and especially their cell phone.
Their answers: yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.[3]
Products like the cell phone, once considered a luxury item of “high-class extravagance” had become a tool Americans can’t imagine life without.[4]
But how has it happened? In a relatively short time, our lives have changed and adapted to new products, new ways of living, and once we have evolved to incorporate these new tools into our lives it is hard, if not impossible, to imagine ever going back.
We were once a country of one car, one-income households. We lived on less; we had more time for each other.
But today we are a country where many families own multiple cars, often duel incomes, and though we live on more, have more, we also work more to get things that we want – which, according to the findings of that recent research project, in a short time will become things that we can’t imagine life without.
According to journalists and sociologists, consumerism has convinced us that we need more, and commercials, like the snake from the Garden of Eden, meet us in our living rooms to tempt us away from satisfaction to pursue goods and services that we never even knew we wanted.
Convinced then, we work and work, buy and buy, drink and drink, shop and shop, eat and eat, as though we have lost the ability to say “enough.”
To save us from this cycle, that truly does enslave, God calls us to Haiti, into the presence of those who truly do not have enough, to realize the difference between what we want and what we need. There is a saying there, that God has provided plenty. However, God left it in our hands to share.
In our passage from Matthew we see that God does indeed provide, but the miracle Christ brings to the 21st Century American Church is that all, rich and poor, walked away from this great feast satisfied.
This miracle is significant, as we are not satisfied; but our dis-satisfaction doesn’t come from a state of hunger, as we have plenty to eat; a lack of shelter, as most have homes; but from a constant message telling us to buy more than we need, want more than we can afford, to never be satisfied with what we have. This message, one that is seemingly inescapable, is one we must learn to fight against.
We are all the victims of an unquenchable thirst for more, more, more. Today a feast is provided. This table is set for rich and poor, strong and weak, for the hungry and the full. Invited by Jesus Christ we are called here together, so that the hungry might be filled, and that we all would be satisfied.
Amen.
[1] Daniel Akst, Cheap Eats, Wilson Quarterly, Summer 2003. 31.
[2] Sue Kirchhoff, Poll: Food costs a major worry for consumers, USA Today, 4/25/08.
[3] Farhad Manjoo, Branded, New York Times, July 27, 2008.
[4] Ibid.
When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.
As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”
Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”
“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.
“Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.
Sermon
I saw a Haitian painting this last week, published in “The Wilson Quarterly,” a journal published by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. I’m not really a scholar, but one in our congregation bought me a subscription recently and I’ve at least been able to enjoy the pictures.
The painting, titled, “Paradise on Earth,” features Adam and Eve lounging under a tree, seemingly without a care in the world surrounded by animals and fruits to eat. Wilson Bigaud, the artist, looks on this scene with nostalgia it would seem. Looking back at the moment when Eve, seduced by the snake to eat from that one tree off-limits in a forest of plenty, reaches for the apple. Genesis tells it as though it were the decision that exiled human kind from a life that was easy, where there was plenty for everyone.[1]
It’s significant that the painting is from a Haitian painter, considering how far the Haitian people have come from a land of plenty. As rice prices climb, this country, close to the hearts of many in this congregation, is more in need than ever. Their situation is not unique, and according to the United Nations World Food Program, today hungry people riot in the streets of the world out of desperation with high food prices that threaten to plunge more than 100 million people into hunger.[2]
In one sense, it is in this context that Jesus responds, providing food to people who do not have enough, to people hungry, struggling to eek out a living.
But we know that considering the limitations of medicine in the ancient world, it was not only the poor who sought Jesus out, but also the wealthy. In need of a miracle, people who no doubt had plenty, if not more than enough to eat, also sought Jesus out.
Of course, they would have been amazed by this man who, “Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to haven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves,” then fed 5,000 men, not even counting the women and children and managed to have 12 baskets full left over.
But this kind of miracle wouldn’t have given them anything they didn’t already have. We know that the wealthy in Roman society often gave banquets celebrating with friends who would eat and eat to the point of explosion, often forcing themselves to vomit in the alley so they could return to the feast and do it all over again.
It’s true that prices have been rising in our grocery stores, causing us all to tighten our belts during an economic crunch, but I can relate better, even to this picture of the Roman elite than the poor in the ancient or modern world.
Like an Ancient Roman Banquet, my first trip to an all-you-can eat buffalo wing restaurant was not an exercise in restraint but excess, and it didn’t take me long before my pants felt too right, my skin felt clammy, and I was making my own trip to the bathroom, though I didn’t return to the feast so I might do it all over again.
I recognize then, that what I need is not a miracle of multiplying loaves and fishes, but something else.
Like Adam and Eve, tempted by the snake from the Garden of Eden to go for more, it is not want that I suffer from.
So it strikes me as miraculous, not only that Jesus fed these 5,000 men, in addition to all the women and children, but also, that the wealthy in the crowd “ate and were satisfied.”
While we do live in a society where our most essential needs are met, ironically, we don’t often experience true satisfaction. So for us, Jesus provides a different kind of miracle.
A journalist specializing in consumerism named Rob Walker recently wrote a book titled: Buying In: The Secret Dialogue Between What We Buy and Who We Are. In this book he analyzes a study that polled middle class families, asking them: Which products could they simply not live without. They were asked about their dishwasher, clothes washer and dryer, home computer, microwave oven, high-speed Internet service, air-conditioning, and especially their cell phone.
Their answers: yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.[3]
Products like the cell phone, once considered a luxury item of “high-class extravagance” had become a tool Americans can’t imagine life without.[4]
But how has it happened? In a relatively short time, our lives have changed and adapted to new products, new ways of living, and once we have evolved to incorporate these new tools into our lives it is hard, if not impossible, to imagine ever going back.
We were once a country of one car, one-income households. We lived on less; we had more time for each other.
But today we are a country where many families own multiple cars, often duel incomes, and though we live on more, have more, we also work more to get things that we want – which, according to the findings of that recent research project, in a short time will become things that we can’t imagine life without.
According to journalists and sociologists, consumerism has convinced us that we need more, and commercials, like the snake from the Garden of Eden, meet us in our living rooms to tempt us away from satisfaction to pursue goods and services that we never even knew we wanted.
Convinced then, we work and work, buy and buy, drink and drink, shop and shop, eat and eat, as though we have lost the ability to say “enough.”
To save us from this cycle, that truly does enslave, God calls us to Haiti, into the presence of those who truly do not have enough, to realize the difference between what we want and what we need. There is a saying there, that God has provided plenty. However, God left it in our hands to share.
In our passage from Matthew we see that God does indeed provide, but the miracle Christ brings to the 21st Century American Church is that all, rich and poor, walked away from this great feast satisfied.
This miracle is significant, as we are not satisfied; but our dis-satisfaction doesn’t come from a state of hunger, as we have plenty to eat; a lack of shelter, as most have homes; but from a constant message telling us to buy more than we need, want more than we can afford, to never be satisfied with what we have. This message, one that is seemingly inescapable, is one we must learn to fight against.
We are all the victims of an unquenchable thirst for more, more, more. Today a feast is provided. This table is set for rich and poor, strong and weak, for the hungry and the full. Invited by Jesus Christ we are called here together, so that the hungry might be filled, and that we all would be satisfied.
Amen.
[1] Daniel Akst, Cheap Eats, Wilson Quarterly, Summer 2003. 31.
[2] Sue Kirchhoff, Poll: Food costs a major worry for consumers, USA Today, 4/25/08.
[3] Farhad Manjoo, Branded, New York Times, July 27, 2008.
[4] Ibid.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)