Seeing Truth Over the Horizon

PROPERS:          FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT, YEAR C

TEXT:                JEREMIAH 33:14-16

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Jeremiah is a herald of the overarching trajectory of God’s rule in creation.

 

            We are here at the dawn of a new year – this being the First Sunday of Advent.

 

            Scripture is the lens through which we view sacred history – what German theologians called Heilsgeschichte. The term differentiates holy history from run-of-the-mill history; God’s movement through history, as opposed to the day-to-day events reported on the news.

 

            There are different ways people view and understand scripture.  Many see a highly-complex text that is best understood by respecting and applying every single detail – from the details of Levitical and Deuteronomic laws, to the ethical teaching of the New Testament, both from Jesus and Paul. And where there is conflict between the sources, various factors come into play determining the ultimate understanding.

 

            It can result – not necessarily does result – in walking through an ethical minefield. It resurrects for Christians a modern halakah, the Jewish legal interpretation with which Jesus wrestled throughout his ministry.

 

            The result can be a complex ethical or moral menu from which we make our choices.

 

            Our presiding bishop, Michael Curry, argues for a much more simple approach, a Law of Love, which says that if our decisions and actions are not about love, they are not about God.

 

            No doubt, history – whether sacred or not – is very complex and poses conflicts to the best-intentioned person.  That is the nature of being human.

 

            I would argue that sacred history – the story of God’s movement in history as described in scripture – is pretty simple.  It is this: Scripture is the recounting of God’s movement throughout time; calling to people, making covenant with people, showing his relentless love, calling to us again and again, even when we rebel and seek to do our own will. For sure, the Bible tells of twists and turns, but that is the overarching narrative.

 

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            The ancient prophet Jeremiah saw that trajectory from the darkness of imprisonment.

 

            The setting of the first lesson today was Jeremiah’s confinement inside the walled city of Jerusalem.  His captivity was the price of his critique of the king and ruling class which dominated Jerusalem and the land of Judah.

 

            Jeremiah had not pulled his punches.  He was a critic of the king, of the government, of greedy priests, and of the religious hierarchy.

 

            The city in which he was captive was surrounded and besieged by the armies of Babylon. In a short time, the armies would attack.  They would lay waste to the Holy City. Blood would run in the streets. Solomon’s Temple would be razed to its foundations.

 

            These were portentous days for Jerusalem.  But in the dankness of his cell, Jeremiah saw hope:

 

“The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’"

 

            What the prophet Jeremiah saw from the darkness of that experience was a new day somewhere over the far horizon.  That new day would come centuries later.  After Jerusalem had been laid waste.  After the Temple had been destroyed.  After the city’s inhabitants had been taken into exile.

 

            His own life would face upheaval.  He would be taken into Babylon – and treated kindly.  He would ultimately be taken to Egypt, where he would die.  He would not realize his own prophecy.

 

            Jeremiah may not have known it, but his vision was more than 500 years away. The fulfillment of his vision’s promises is the reason we observe Advent today.  The promises were coming, are coming, and are here.

          “O come, o come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel…” and all of creation.  

Out of Small Things

PROPERS:          PROPER 28, YEAR B  

TEXT:                1 SAMUEL 1:4-20

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Monumental movements have humble beginnings.

 

            In the hill country of Samaria – in what is today the West Bank of Israel – the town of Shiloh stood.  It is long-gone, but archeology has identified it – hard between an Israeli settlers’ village and a settlement of Palestinians. It is contested land today – subject to international negotiations.

 

            Shiloh, long ago, in those biblical days, was a holy town.  It predated Jerusalem as the central site of Jewish worship.  It was there, in a tent, that the Ark of the Covenant had been placed.

 

            People would come there to pray… and to offer sacrifices, the chief form of worship under the Law.

 

            It was to that shrine that Hannah came.  She was one of two wives to Elkanah.  He loved her deeply.  He gave a double-portion of his sacrificed food to her – a time when food was scarce.

 

            But Hannah was deeply troubled.  Even though she and Elkanah had been married for years, she had not yet given birth to a child.  And Elkanah’s other wife had multiple sons and daughters – a fact, his other wife, Peninnah reminded her of frequently.

 

            Hannah was bereft, heartbroken.  She went to the holy tent to pray.  She prayed silently –  her lips moved quietly.  Eli, the sacred tent’s overseer, saw her and assumed she was drunk. He confronted her – but she explained her plight.

 

            He sent her away, with best wishes and a prayer.

 

            She soon conceived and gave birth to a child – Samuel.

 

            An obscure moment in a tiny town, three millennia ago. The child, Samuel would have reverberations down through history.

 

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            A widely-accepted theory is that 13.8 billion years ago there was an infinitesimally small particle in a massive void.  In an instant – a fraction of a second that includes decimal point followed by 38 zeros – that particle, containing allelements in the universe, exploded.  All the planets, stars and matter that exist today began to expand and form. The universe continues to expand today – gaining speed with each moment, at a distance that is measured in light years, the number of which is measured in 59 zeros.

 

            Two Nobel Prize winning scientists from the Bell Labs allowed us to hear the hiss of that expansion in the 1950s. It is the background noise of the universe.

 

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            A young woman, perhaps 15 years old, was living in a tiny village in the Galilee.  In the solitude of her prayers, she sensed the voice of the Almighty… the Ancient of Days… YAHWEH Elohim… the One Who Is… telling her of something small, but something that would have earth-shaking effect. She was blessed among women.  Her journey is the reason for the season which begins two weeks from today.

 

            She would give birth to a child. She had known no man.  She was unmarried.

 

            The world would change because of that small moment in solitude.

 

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            It’s amazing how small events… small things… can have long-term impacts.

 

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            Samuel was born to Hannah.  He was dedicated to God as a Nazerite because he had been a gift to his parents.  Samuel would go on to do great things.

 

            A few years later,  while still a child, in the darkness and silence of the tent where he slept, he heard the voice of God telling him of the downfall of the House of Eli, his mentor.

 

            Samuel would go on. He would anoint Saul as the first king of Israel – an action he came to rue.

 

            Later, and under threat from Saul, he travelled to Bethlehem.  There he watched as the sons of Jesse walked before him.  He discerned that God had chosen none of them. So, he asked Jesse about others. Jesse said his youngest son was out tending the flocks. Samuel summonsed him. David came and was anointed king.

 

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            From time immemorial, we have seen how small events, small circumstances, small groups can change the trajectory of existence.

 

            The cultural anthropologist, Margaret Mead, famously said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world: indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

 

            It is not only groups, though.  It has been moments.  It has been individuals.

 

From Moses to Jesus to Paul to Martin Luther to Elizabeth I to the men at Lexington and Concord  to  Martin Luther King– great events spring from small beginnings. Life is not fate. We are all potential actors on the stage of history,

 

            Bear this in mind:  There is no limit to what God can do with a willing person, even in what seems like an insignificant moment. 

What is a Saint?

PROPERS:          ALL SAINTS’ SUNDAY        

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The saints of God we celebrate today represent all types of human beings – from scoundrels to holy people.

 

            One of my favorite people in recent Christian history was the late Will Campbell.  He is the author of one of my favorite books of all time – Brother to a Dragon Fly.

 

            Will was not what many of us would consider a saint – but he was.

 

            He was reared in rural Amite County, Mississippi.  One of his neighbors was the Grand Old Opry comedian Jerry Clower.  His family was poor, but he was cut-out for the ministry at an early age.  He was ordained by a local Baptist congregation at age 17. After attending a Louisiana college, he received a master’s degree from Yale University.

 

            That is where the ordinary stopped.

 

            As a Southern Baptist pastor, he was named the director of religious life at Ole Miss in 1954.  He did not last long.  He resigned in 1956 after receiving death threats for his pro-civil rights positions at what was then a segregated university.

 

            He did not change his views.  He became a leader of the civil rights movement and a vocal opponent of the death penalty.  He was present at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis when Martin Luther King was assassinated.

 

            Will was an iconoclast.  He was plain-spoken, frequently using profanity, even from the pulpit (He even caused a friend of mine to have his vocational life pass before his eyes after Will shucked the corn in a service to which he had invited him).

 

            He was a prolific author, and was the inspiration for cartoonist Doug Marlette’s character, Will B. Dunn, in the comic strip Kudzu.

 

            His autobiographical work, Brother to a Dragon Fly, is one of the most moving books I have ever read.  I found myself weeping at one moment and laughing uproariously at the next.  It is an unflinching look at his life.

 

            One passage sticks with me.  Will is asked by a friend to summarize his theology.  I have cleaned up his answer – it was not G-Rated – but it is to the point: “We are all scoundrels, but God loves us any way.”

 

            Colorful and profane he was.  But his faith was deep – and consistent. In his later years, he lived that theological principle of the love of God for all people by serving as chaplain to the Ku Klux Klan.

 

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            We frequently labor under the illusion that saints were some mystical, perfect people.  The hagiography associated with saints’ lives reenforces that viewpoint.  It is not accurate. They were all human beings – just like you and me. Their lives, though, have a unique thread which runs through their stories.

 

            We have warm, sentimental feelings about St. Nicholas of Myra. Did you know he is the patron saint of pawnbrokers and brewers?

 

            Or, take for instance the Dutch saint, Andrew Wouters.  He was a 16^th century priest in the Netherlands.  He was a drunk, many times in public.  He had multiple illicit affairs – despite his vow of celibacy – and fathered numerous children.

 

            He was arrested and imprisoned by Calvinist crusaders.  As he was about to be executed for his licentious lifestyle, he was asked if he repudiated his belief in the Eucharist and the papacy, to save his life.  His response: “Fornicator I was; heretic I never was.”

 

            He and 10 of his friends were hanged on July 9, 1572. He was canonized as a saint nearly 300 years later.

 

            Not exactly a sterling character to have as a model… but…

 

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            Today we celebrate the Sunday after All Saints’ Day.  All Saints’ Day, of course, is always on November 1 – this past Monday.

 

            There seems to be some confusion about what constitutes a saint. The common view seems to be that a saint is someone with rich piety, a faultless life, who is without blemish in their worldly existence.  Not so.

 

            Keep in mind this fact: The saints were and are all human beings.  As such, they are like us – subject to the foibles, mistakes, and misdeeds of our lives.  St. Paul and other New Testament writers refer to all the saints – the members of the Christian communities, the diverse and diffuse congregations that dotted the Mediterranean landscape.  Some of those communities observed the strict Jewish law; some seemed to subscribe to the theory that anything goes.

 

            There seems to be two characteristics of all the saints – from the earliest dawn of the church to today.  The first is that, despite their frequent human failings, they trusted in God.  They were people of deep and flawed faith.  Even Will Campbell and Andrew Wouters.

 

            The second characteristic is frequently used to describe our men and women who serve in uniform.  It applies just as well to the saints. All gave some, and some gave all.

 

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            You are the saints of today. All give some, and some give all.

 

            What our heart tells us to give, we give.  Whether it is from our time, our energy, our prayers, or our checkbook, we give, like the saints, out of a sense of abundance. Knowing that we are never alone, and that the hand of a very gracious God is with us.

 

            I sing a song of the saints of God… and I mean to be one, too. 

Faithfulness Seen Through Ruth

 PROPERS:          PROPER 26, YEAR B  

TEXT:                RUTH 1:1-18

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The relentless love of God is seen in the story of Ruth.

 

            A week ago, I assisted in the wedding for a family friend in New Jersey.  It was a Roman Catholic wedding, and I was treated quite graciously.  Sometimes, other denominations are not so welcomed in Roman Catholic services.

 

            But I was. It was a beautiful and touching service.  Having presided at many weddings, I was surprised by the chill in my spine I felt in that service.  I appreciate being granted leave to be there.

 

            There was one thing I noted, though.  The first lesson for that wedding was also our first lesson today – the opening verses of the Book of Ruth. The sentiment in those verses – “entreat me not to leave you” – is beautiful and touching.  But it is wholly inappropriate in a wedding. The devotion being expressed is not between a husband and wife, but between a daughter-in-law and a mother-in-law.

 

            Still, it tells us much about the nature of God.

 

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            The story is essentially this:  Naomi has a husband and two sons.  Her husband was Elimelech and her sons were Mahlon and Chilion.  Because of a famine in Judah, the family had moved to where there was food – across the Dead Sea, to Moab. Her sons’ wives – Moabites, that is, non-Jews – were Orpah and Ruth.

 

            Sadly, Elimelech, Mahlon, and Chilion died – leaving the three women without husbands and means of support.  Naomi decided to return to Judah. She encouraged Ruth and Orpah to remain with their people, the Moabites.

 

            Orpah agrees.  But Ruth responds with words that have been passed through the ages:

 

“Do not press me to leave you 
or to turn back from following you!

Where you go, I will go; 
Where you lodge, I will lodge; 

your people shall be my people, 
and your God my God.

Where you die, I will die— 
there will I be buried.

May the Lord do thus and so to me, 
and more as well, 

if even death parts me from you!”

 

            Those are touching words. They have meaning for us today.

 

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            You know, life takes us on many roads and in many directions. Both for better and worse, our hindsight is 20/20, unless we are in a deep state of denial.

 

            I know that all of us here are essentially good people. As the Hollies sang many years ago, “The road is long, with many a winding turn.”

 

            All of us – if we look honestly at our lives – can see the places where we have made mistakes, errors, or made assumptions that were off-the-mark.  Sometimes those mistakes have led to broken relationships. Sometimes they have led to failures in life. Maybe they have caused others to steer clear of us. Or, maybe, they just led to personal regrets or insights of mistakes made.

 

            We all can see those… if we see life as it has been.

 

            Jesus’ teaching about the Prodigal Son gives us an excellent example.  The son had greedily asked his father for the inheritance he would receive on his father’s death.  This was a self-centered request made long before his father died.

 

            His father graciously acquiesced. The son went far away and squandered his inheritance, ultimately leading to a life of slopping hogs – an especially despicable circumstance for a Jew. Broken and lost, the son returned home.

 

            You know the rest of the story.  The father receives him gladly, celebrating his son’s return.  All is forgiven; all is past.

 

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Ruth’s gracious words to her mother-in-law are God’s gracious words to us.

 

            We are like Ruth and the Prodigal Son.  Once we come to grips with our condition… once we realize how alone we are, how broken we are, how our efforts to portray ourselves have failed, we are never abandoned.

 

            Ruth promised to stay by Naomi’s wide.  In Jesus’ parable, the loving father embraced his rebellious son. No matter when we realize the erroneous pathways we may have taken, God greets us with open arms: “Come, you that are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…”

 

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            We are unlikely to know the long-term effects of our turning back toward the faithfulness of God. Ruth is an excellent example.

 

            She was a gentile, a non-Jew, a Moabite – from modern-day Jordan. Yet by her faithfulness to Naomi, she ultimately married Boaz.  And she became the great-grandmother of the greatest king in Israel’s history, David.

 

            A gentile ancestor to great Jewish king. The faithfulness and wonder of God.

 

            And now you know the rest of the story.