Good morning. God's grace and peace be with you all.
Our gospel text this morning is deceptively simple. On the one hand, we have a self-righteous Pharisee and on the other, a humble tax collector. The Pharisee's pride is almost a caricature, as he says, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people.” Meanwhile, the tax collector cannot even look up to heaven, but beats his chest and cries out for mercy, knowing his own sinfulness.
Our gospel text this morning is deceptively simple. We may look at these two characters and think we know exactly what message the text is trying to communicate. Be like the tax collector, not like the Pharisee! Be humble, not proud! We may think that we get it. We may even say to ourselves, “God, I thank you that I am not like that awful Pharisee...”
Do you see the problem? In our eagerness not to be like the Pharisee, we become exactly like the Pharisee. The Pharisee's prayer is addressed to God, but it is all about himself: his behavior, his righteousness, his worth. The Pharisee's attitude is entirely self-centered and self-righteous – and there are tragic consequences of this way of thinking. The Pharisee is so eager to puff himself up, he has to put others down. “God, I thank you that I am not like other people,” he says, “Thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” The Pharisee is putting up barriers, walls that separate him from others. The Pharisee is making himself an “insider,” a righteous person, and the tax collector an “outsider” and unrighteous. The Pharisee assumes he knows that God favors him and that God rejects the tax collector. The Pharisee is building barriers that shut the tax collector out.
The Pharisee is making divisions between those he sees as righteous (including himself, of course) and those he sees as unrighteous, like the tax collector. Yet if we read this text in terms of “proud people” and “humble people,” we are doing exactly the same thing. We are building barriers, defining insiders and outsiders – and most of the time, we draw the lines so that we can be the insiders. We pride ourselves on not being like the prideful Pharisee – blissfully unaware of our hypocrisy and misinterpretation of this text.
So let's reexamine this deceptively simple parable and see if we can get out of our hypocritical mess. We have, as we already know, two characters, a Pharisee and a tax collector. Although the Pharisee is cast as the villain of this story – as the Pharisees often are in the gospel of Luke – we should give him credit where credit is due. The Pharisee is righteous, according to all the requirements of his faith. He fasts, not one day a week but two; he tithes, not only part of his possessions but gives a tenth of everything. We have no reason to doubt the truth of his words. And we would be wrong to dismiss these righteous activities. Especially a week before our Pledge Sunday here at King of Kings, I think the stewardship team would be very disappointed if I ignored the stewardship, the tithing, of the Pharisee. The Pharisee is doing everything right, and he would not be a bad model for us in our faith lives. We too should exercise spiritual practices such as prayer and fasting; we too should give back a portion of what we possess, knowing these things are gifts from God.
Yet as we have already noted, the problem with the Pharisee seems to be in his attitude. It's all about him. His prayer is not about God, not to mention the poor tax collector. The Pharisee can't seem to think of anyone or anything but himself. And in this attitude, the Pharisee is creating divisions, building barriers, making “insiders” and “outsiders.” He considers himself righteous – an insider – not like the tax collector and other sinners – the outsiders.
The setting of the parable is also significant. This parable takes place at the Temple, the center of Jewish religious life. The Temple was in many ways a palpable symbol of barriers, distinctions. The Temple complex itself was divided into different areas, and only certain people were allowed to enter. In the very center was the Holy of Holies, where only the high priests could go. In the outer parts of the Temple, only those who were ritually clean could enter. And there were some “outsiders” who were not allowed into the Temple at all. There were good theological reasons for these divisions. The Temple was a holy place, where God's presence was found; it would be wrong to infect a holy place with uncleanliness. So there were distinctions made, there were barriers put up against the wrong kind of people. The “insiders” were literally the ones allowed inside the Temple complex, while “outsiders” had to remain outside. Our tax collector identifies himself as an outsider because he stands far off – he won't even get too close to the Temple, just in case.
But careful readers of the gospel of Luke will notice another significance of the Temple and its distinctions. For it is in the gospel of Luke that we hear this account of Jesus' crucifixion: “It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun's light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last.”
In the gospel of Luke, at the moment of Jesus' death the Temple curtain is torn in two. This curtain was a barrier in the literal sense; it protected the holy interior of the Temple from outsiders. Just as clearly as the Temple was a physical symbol of distinctions and barriers, the tearing of the Temple curtain is a physical symbol of those barriers being broken down. What is revealed at this moment in the gospel of Luke is that God in Jesus Christ breaks down every barrier that we try to build up.
When we try to make distinctions between “righteous” and “unrighteous,” like the Pharisee in today's parable, God breaks down those barriers. When we try to make distinctions between the “humble” and the “proud,” God breaks down those barriers, too. Whenever we try to label “insiders” and “outsiders” on any principle – be it behavior, or race, or wealth, or belief – we find God not on our side, but on the other side, breaking down the barriers. Though the Pharisee looked down on the tax collector, it was with tax collectors and sinners that Jesus spent his time.
In our parable today, the Pharisee was confident of his own righteousness, and the tax collector was certain of his unrighteousness. The parable is even addressed to an audience “who trusted in themselves that they were righteous.” So righteousness – being right in the eyes of God – is clearly important to this text. Some of us may feel like the Pharisee, confident that we are righteous. Others may feel like the tax collector, desperately begging God for mercy. Whether we feel like the Pharisee or like the tax collector, we would do well to be reminded of the source of our righteousness. To be counted righteous in God's eyes is not something anyone can earn. Righteousness can only come as a gift from God. Perhaps the tax collector knew that better than the Pharisee. Yet we can know something that was unknown even to the tax collector – not only that righteousness comes from God, but that it has come from God. We don't have to beg God for mercy like the tax collector does, because God has already counted us righteous. God has already justified us through the free gift of God's grace.
Because God has justified us as a gift of grace, we are freed from being either the tax collector or the Pharisee. While the tax collector desperately begs for God's mercy, we have the assurance of God's love. While the Pharisee is obsessed with his own righteous behavior, we are free to think of others. The Pharisee is so eager to promote himself that he builds barriers against the other, saying, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people.” We do not have to become trapped in the Pharisee's “insider” and “outsider” mentality. Instead, we realize that we have been justified by a God who tears the Temple curtain, a God who breaks down barriers. Because we are justified by God through God's grace, not through our goodness, we don't have to compare ourselves to others; we don't have to build barriers that make us “insiders” and protect us from “outsiders.”
In one of my seminary classes, I had the opportunity to watch a documentary titled “A Time for Burning.” It was a factual account of a Lutheran congregation in Omaha, Nebraska in 1966, when their pastor tried to reach out to their African American neighbors. In a congregation and a community that were still segregated, Reverend L. William Youngdahl tried to convince his white parishioners to share conversation and community with those they considered “outsiders.” The response from the congregation is mixed, with some supportive and others opposed; but in the end, the pastor is forced to resign.
What struck me most in the documentary was the pastor’s conviction that this conversation, this sharing of community, was not only worthwhile but vital. Today, we would be shocked by what some of the people in the documentary say — yet, for all the progress that has been made in the last 45 years, how often do we still hold outsiders at a distance and build barriers against them? Whether on the basis of race, or religion, or personal behavior, we all like to consider ourselves “insiders” and others “outsiders.” Yet we should strive to be more like this Pastor Youngdahl, whose belief in the all-encompassing love of God led him to seek community and fellowship with the “outsiders” in his world.
We have been justified by God, whose love and grace are freely given. Now we are free to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, breaking down barriers and identifying with outsiders. Now, we can reach out to both Pharisees and tax collectors. Now, we can share the love that we have first received. Amen.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
October 24 Sermon - Part 3
Time to look at some commentaries! As I mentioned before, I'll be preaching on the gospel text, Luke 18:9-14.
I love how Working Preacher begins: the commentator lifts up the basic meaning of the text, which is to be humble, and then adds an important warning. He writes, "The difficulty with such an interpretive tact, however, is that we might as well end up preaching, 'Lord, we thank you that we are not like other people: hypocrites, overly pious, self righteous, or even like that Pharisee. We come to church each week, listen attentively to Scripture, and we have learned that we should always be humble.'" If we're praising ourselves for our humility, we've clearly missed the point. (I'm reminded of C.S. Lewis' description of pride as a hydra - when you cut off one head, three more sprout up in its place.)
As Working Preacher points out and I noticed myself in the text, the Pharisee is being both honest and virtuous. The Pharisee is doing everything he describes (fasting twice a week, tithing) and those actions are exactly what he is supposed to be doing. The Pharisee is following the law, which are God's expectations of God's people. Would that all of us were fasting twice a week and tithing! Working Preacher puts it this way: " It isn't that the Pharisee is speaking falsely, but rather that the Pharisee misses the true nature of his blessing. As Luke states in his introductory sentence, he has trusted in himself. His prayer of gratitude may be spoken to the Lord, but it is really about himself."
The tax collector, in contrast, knows his own unrighteousness. We have to keep in mind that tax collectors were seen practically as traitors to the people of Israel, in cahoots with the oppressive Roman regime. He cannot rely on his own righteousness, so he must rely on the mercy of God. Again, Working Preacher puts it better than I could: "Here is the essential contrast. One makes a claim to righteousness based on his own accomplishments, while the other relies entirely upon the Lord's benevolence." What I see here is a tension between action and attitude. Both are important. We should strive to act rightly; but right actions with wrong (self-focused) attitude leaves us like the Pharisee. By contrast, the tax collector is acting wrongly but thinking/believing rightly. It may be appropriate not to see action and attitude of equal importance, especially from a Lutheran perspective - the attitude here seems to be more important than the actions.
However, there's a problem here, too. Working Preacher warns me, "As soon as we fall prey to the temptation to divide humanity into any kind of groups, we have aligned ourselves squarely with the Pharisee. Whether our division is between righteous and sinners, as with the Pharisee, or even between the self-righteous and the humble, as with Luke, we are doomed." Well then. Luke has put us in a difficult position, hasn't he? A parable with contrasting characters teaches us the danger of placing people into categories.
I also checked out two other commentaries: Joel Green's Lukan commentary in the NICNT series, and Joseph Fitzmyer's in the Anchor Bible series. One interesting point that Green raised is the Pharisee's actions go above and beyond: the Pharisee doesn't just fast one day a week, but twice; the Pharisee doesn't make distinctions about what income to tithe, but gives a tenth of everything. So his righteous actions are being highlighted almost to the point of caricature. Fitzmyer echoed some of the points above, and also had a note on that para I was wondering about (it is a comparative, hence the translation "rather").
There's one other important issue at stake here. For most of its history, the church has emphasized the danger of pride, considering it the worst of the seven deadly sins, or that hydra of C.S. Lewis. As a person who struggles with pride at times, I understand whence this emphasis comes. Pride can be insidious and can overwhelm everything we do. However, and this is a big caveat, not everyone finds pride to be their greatest sin. This point is often raised by feminist theologians because it often affects women more than men - but I think the point is an important one, even apart from the issue of gender. There are some people for whom excessive humility, rather than pride, is their consuming and destructive tendency. Women tend to be more affected than men by this issue because women, more than men, are socialized to be humble and serve others. For those who are not puffed up with pride but beaten down with too much humility, the problem of sin looks very different. If we drive home a message that says, "You must serve others, you must not think of yourself," the prideful people may be corrected - but others will be paralyzed and destroyed. Jesus tells us to "love our neighbor as ourself," and that formula requires both love of self and love of neighbor. So I, and I think anyone who preaches on this text, has to be careful that we speak to sin in all its forms, both self-centered and self-destroying.
I love how Working Preacher begins: the commentator lifts up the basic meaning of the text, which is to be humble, and then adds an important warning. He writes, "The difficulty with such an interpretive tact, however, is that we might as well end up preaching, 'Lord, we thank you that we are not like other people: hypocrites, overly pious, self righteous, or even like that Pharisee. We come to church each week, listen attentively to Scripture, and we have learned that we should always be humble.'" If we're praising ourselves for our humility, we've clearly missed the point. (I'm reminded of C.S. Lewis' description of pride as a hydra - when you cut off one head, three more sprout up in its place.)
As Working Preacher points out and I noticed myself in the text, the Pharisee is being both honest and virtuous. The Pharisee is doing everything he describes (fasting twice a week, tithing) and those actions are exactly what he is supposed to be doing. The Pharisee is following the law, which are God's expectations of God's people. Would that all of us were fasting twice a week and tithing! Working Preacher puts it this way: " It isn't that the Pharisee is speaking falsely, but rather that the Pharisee misses the true nature of his blessing. As Luke states in his introductory sentence, he has trusted in himself. His prayer of gratitude may be spoken to the Lord, but it is really about himself."
The tax collector, in contrast, knows his own unrighteousness. We have to keep in mind that tax collectors were seen practically as traitors to the people of Israel, in cahoots with the oppressive Roman regime. He cannot rely on his own righteousness, so he must rely on the mercy of God. Again, Working Preacher puts it better than I could: "Here is the essential contrast. One makes a claim to righteousness based on his own accomplishments, while the other relies entirely upon the Lord's benevolence." What I see here is a tension between action and attitude. Both are important. We should strive to act rightly; but right actions with wrong (self-focused) attitude leaves us like the Pharisee. By contrast, the tax collector is acting wrongly but thinking/believing rightly. It may be appropriate not to see action and attitude of equal importance, especially from a Lutheran perspective - the attitude here seems to be more important than the actions.
However, there's a problem here, too. Working Preacher warns me, "As soon as we fall prey to the temptation to divide humanity into any kind of groups, we have aligned ourselves squarely with the Pharisee. Whether our division is between righteous and sinners, as with the Pharisee, or even between the self-righteous and the humble, as with Luke, we are doomed." Well then. Luke has put us in a difficult position, hasn't he? A parable with contrasting characters teaches us the danger of placing people into categories.
I also checked out two other commentaries: Joel Green's Lukan commentary in the NICNT series, and Joseph Fitzmyer's in the Anchor Bible series. One interesting point that Green raised is the Pharisee's actions go above and beyond: the Pharisee doesn't just fast one day a week, but twice; the Pharisee doesn't make distinctions about what income to tithe, but gives a tenth of everything. So his righteous actions are being highlighted almost to the point of caricature. Fitzmyer echoed some of the points above, and also had a note on that para I was wondering about (it is a comparative, hence the translation "rather").
There's one other important issue at stake here. For most of its history, the church has emphasized the danger of pride, considering it the worst of the seven deadly sins, or that hydra of C.S. Lewis. As a person who struggles with pride at times, I understand whence this emphasis comes. Pride can be insidious and can overwhelm everything we do. However, and this is a big caveat, not everyone finds pride to be their greatest sin. This point is often raised by feminist theologians because it often affects women more than men - but I think the point is an important one, even apart from the issue of gender. There are some people for whom excessive humility, rather than pride, is their consuming and destructive tendency. Women tend to be more affected than men by this issue because women, more than men, are socialized to be humble and serve others. For those who are not puffed up with pride but beaten down with too much humility, the problem of sin looks very different. If we drive home a message that says, "You must serve others, you must not think of yourself," the prideful people may be corrected - but others will be paralyzed and destroyed. Jesus tells us to "love our neighbor as ourself," and that formula requires both love of self and love of neighbor. So I, and I think anyone who preaches on this text, has to be careful that we speak to sin in all its forms, both self-centered and self-destroying.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
October 24 Sermon - Part Two
In preparing for my sermon on the 24th, I translated the Gospel text (Luke 18:9-14). For the most part, my translation looks pretty similar to the NRSV version. However, in verse 14, which is the key to the whole parable, I ran into some questions.
The first issue is that loaded term, justified - or in Greek, dikaioo. The verb could be read as middle (justify one's self) or passive (be justified). The context obviously suggests that justifying one's self is precisely not the point, so the passive voice is probably the correct reading.
I also wondered about the Greek preposition para. In the NRSV, they translate that phrase "this man went down to his home justified rather than the other." However, the basic meaning I found was "beside," which would give "this man went down to his home justified beside the other." That changes the meaning pretty dramatically, doesn't it? Instead of an either-or, it becomes a both-and situation. Of course, that might just be a simple mistranslation on my part... I need to check out some commentaries and see what they say.
The first issue is that loaded term, justified - or in Greek, dikaioo. The verb could be read as middle (justify one's self) or passive (be justified). The context obviously suggests that justifying one's self is precisely not the point, so the passive voice is probably the correct reading.
I also wondered about the Greek preposition para. In the NRSV, they translate that phrase "this man went down to his home justified rather than the other." However, the basic meaning I found was "beside," which would give "this man went down to his home justified beside the other." That changes the meaning pretty dramatically, doesn't it? Instead of an either-or, it becomes a both-and situation. Of course, that might just be a simple mistranslation on my part... I need to check out some commentaries and see what they say.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
October 24 Sermon - Part One
My next preaching date is October 24. Here are the readings assigned for that Sunday:
Jeremiah 14:7-10,19-22
Psalm 84:1-7
2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18
Luke 18:9-14
Here's the NRSV translation of the Gospel text:
18:9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:
18:10 "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
18:11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
18:12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'
18:13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'
18:14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."
October 24 is the final Sunday before the "pledge" Sunday at King of Kings, so a stewardship theme will certainly be appropriate. I think this will be a fun text to preach.
Jeremiah 14:7-10,19-22
Psalm 84:1-7
2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18
Luke 18:9-14
Here's the NRSV translation of the Gospel text:
18:9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:
18:10 "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
18:11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
18:12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'
18:13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'
18:14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."
October 24 is the final Sunday before the "pledge" Sunday at King of Kings, so a stewardship theme will certainly be appropriate. I think this will be a fun text to preach.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
October 3 Sermon
In advance of my preaching tomorrow, here's the sermon I've written. I didn't get a chance to do much sermon prep here on the blog because, well, it's been a busy couple of weeks. (It's telling that I haven't posted since early September... where did that month GO?)
Anyway, I did decide to preach on Habakkuk, which revealed to me my ignorance about the book of Habakkuk. After some catching up in terms of my own knowledge, I feel like the sermon came together pretty well. It's nice to preach on something that's not quite as miserably difficult as the last two sermons I've preached.
Grace and peace be with all of you, in the name of our God. Amen.
For my sermon this week, I've chosen to focus not on our Gospel text, but on the First Lesson, the Old Testament text – the reading from the book of Habakkuk. I encourage you to look at the text again in your pew Bibles if you want to refresh your memory. As I was preparing this sermon, one of the resources I consulted had this word of advice: “When have the sainted people to whom you preach ever heard a sermon based on God's timeless word to Habakkuk? This week is their chance. Do not let them down.”
Well, I will do my best. I expect many of you sainted people have not heard a sermon on God's timeless word to Habakkuk. You may be unfamiliar with this book and its themes. Even I had to do some serious reading to figure out what this book, included among the prophets, is about.
The theme in this reading that jumped out at me is justice. Habakkuk writes, “So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous — therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” Habakkuk is lamenting a situation filled with injustice.
And this lament of Habakkuk's seems timeless, doesn't it? There are so many times when we are struck by the injustice of a situation. I want us to reflect for a minute on those injustices we encounter; I'll give you an example of my own.
Last Christmas, my husband and I were traveling home from the seminary up in Gettysburg. We were flying out of the Dulles Airport, so we left our car in the long-term parking there. When we returned to our car eight days later, our front bumper was absolutely mangled. Someone had hit us in the parking lot while we were gone. There was no note, no sign at all that the person who had hit our car had wanted to make the situation right. Probably, the person who hit us figured he or she would be long gone before we got back to find our ruined bumper – and that person was right. We couldn’t know who hit our car and then drove off. So we went to a car shop and paid for a new bumper, and my husband muttered something about karma... hoping that the person who did us an injustice would get some kind of cosmic comeuppance.
What about all of you? I want you to take a moment to reflect on an injustice you have experienced, a time when maybe you wished for cosmic justice. [pause]
Some of you may have experienced injustice far worse than my husband's and my ruined bumper. I am well aware that my example is very minor compared to the injustice that some individuals and groups have to face. My little “injustice” is also very minor compared to the experience of Habakkuk. You see, Habakkuk lived in a time when the people of Israel were being deeply shaken. World powers – the Assyrians and the Babylonians – were conquering the people of Israel, sending some of them into exile and destroying their homes. Even the Temple of Jerusalem was eventually destroyed – a catastrophic event for God's people. Amidst all of this, the prophets cried out over the injustice they saw within the people of Israel – ignoring the poor, the widows and orphans; perverting the system of justice for personal gain..
That is the world in which Habakkuk speaks. Habakkuk cries out to God, “Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise.” Habakkuk and the people of Israel are threatened by foreign powers and by internal injustice. The world around Habakkuk is all wrong, far from God's intentions and promises.
And Habakkuk cries out not only in lament to God, but in accusation. Habakkuk writes, “O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you 'Violence!' and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrong-doing and look at trouble?” As Habakkuk knows, the God of Israel is supposed to be a just God, a God who protects the righteous and punishes the wicked. Habakkuk sees justice perverted and the wicked prospering; and he is forced to wonder what God is doing. If the world is unjust, does that mean God is unjust? Or has God forgotten the people of Israel and God's promises to them?
Habakkuk is not the only voice that cries out in this way when faced with injustice. There are others in the Bible who question the justice of God: the book of Job is perhaps the most famous. And at times we may find ourselves asking the same questions. In the midst of violence around the world; poverty, disease, and hunger; the personal losses and hardships we experience; stories in the news about cyber-bullying driving teenagers to suicide – we may wonder if God is unjust or simply absent from our world. We may find ourselves wandering in a dark place, feeling far from God, full of pain and doubt.
It is comforting for me to know that Habakkuk is in that dark place with us. We are not alone when we ask these hard questions. Habakkuk and other faithful people throughout history have asked the same questions. And Habakkuk can provide us with a model and perhaps some hope in that dark place – for Habakkuk does not only lament, does not only ask questions. Habakkuk waits, however impatiently, for a response from God. I love Habakkuk's words: “I will stand at my watchpost, and station myself on the rampart; I will keep watch to see what God will say to me, and what God will answer concerning my complaint.” I imagine Habakkuk putting his foot down, saying to God, “I am not going to move until you answer me!” How many of us have felt that same impatience and insistence? Even when we are doubting God, we still wait for an answer from God, hoping and trusting that it will come.
For Habakkuk, the answer comes in two parts. God does respond to the voice of the prophet, but warns that the answer Habakkuk seeks requires more patience. God says, “There is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.” Habakkuk does not get the vision immediately. But God comes to remind Habakkuk of God's presence and faithfulness. Though it may seem that the answer to Habakkuk's questions is slow to come, God promises that it will come at just the right time.
God can speak to us through this word to Habakkuk, as well. When we find ourselves overwhelmed by the injustice all around us, or doubting the presence of God in the midst of injustice, we can read this word to Habakkuk. We can trust that God is still among us. Sometimes, we feel that presence of God in one another, in community. Sometimes, we can only hope that God's presence is there, unfelt. We trust in the word God gave to Habakkuk — that God does have a vision, a plan, and it will come at the appointed time.
When we gather here for worship, we often gather with joy. We celebrate weddings and baptisms; we celebrate God’s love and grace. Yet at other times, we gather here with different emotions. We gather to mourn at funerals, filled with sadness and overwhelmed by questions. Even for a regular Sunday service, some of you undoubtedly come weighed down by your doubts, fears, and pains. Some of you may come here overwhelmed by the injustice you see around you. Some of you may come, doubting whether God can be found here.
In many Christian churches, including this one, there is a special candle — the eternal candle. It’s right over there, on the wall. It remains lit, even when the service ends and all the other candles are extinguished. This eternal candle is meant to signify God’s ongoing, constant presence among us. Whether we gather in joy or in sadness, God remains faithfully present. Although we may not find the answers we are seeking — although we must wait for the vision to arrive — we trust that God’s spirit is here, as God has promised. Amen.
Anyway, I did decide to preach on Habakkuk, which revealed to me my ignorance about the book of Habakkuk. After some catching up in terms of my own knowledge, I feel like the sermon came together pretty well. It's nice to preach on something that's not quite as miserably difficult as the last two sermons I've preached.
Grace and peace be with all of you, in the name of our God. Amen.
For my sermon this week, I've chosen to focus not on our Gospel text, but on the First Lesson, the Old Testament text – the reading from the book of Habakkuk. I encourage you to look at the text again in your pew Bibles if you want to refresh your memory. As I was preparing this sermon, one of the resources I consulted had this word of advice: “When have the sainted people to whom you preach ever heard a sermon based on God's timeless word to Habakkuk? This week is their chance. Do not let them down.”
Well, I will do my best. I expect many of you sainted people have not heard a sermon on God's timeless word to Habakkuk. You may be unfamiliar with this book and its themes. Even I had to do some serious reading to figure out what this book, included among the prophets, is about.
The theme in this reading that jumped out at me is justice. Habakkuk writes, “So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous — therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” Habakkuk is lamenting a situation filled with injustice.
And this lament of Habakkuk's seems timeless, doesn't it? There are so many times when we are struck by the injustice of a situation. I want us to reflect for a minute on those injustices we encounter; I'll give you an example of my own.
Last Christmas, my husband and I were traveling home from the seminary up in Gettysburg. We were flying out of the Dulles Airport, so we left our car in the long-term parking there. When we returned to our car eight days later, our front bumper was absolutely mangled. Someone had hit us in the parking lot while we were gone. There was no note, no sign at all that the person who had hit our car had wanted to make the situation right. Probably, the person who hit us figured he or she would be long gone before we got back to find our ruined bumper – and that person was right. We couldn’t know who hit our car and then drove off. So we went to a car shop and paid for a new bumper, and my husband muttered something about karma... hoping that the person who did us an injustice would get some kind of cosmic comeuppance.
What about all of you? I want you to take a moment to reflect on an injustice you have experienced, a time when maybe you wished for cosmic justice. [pause]
Some of you may have experienced injustice far worse than my husband's and my ruined bumper. I am well aware that my example is very minor compared to the injustice that some individuals and groups have to face. My little “injustice” is also very minor compared to the experience of Habakkuk. You see, Habakkuk lived in a time when the people of Israel were being deeply shaken. World powers – the Assyrians and the Babylonians – were conquering the people of Israel, sending some of them into exile and destroying their homes. Even the Temple of Jerusalem was eventually destroyed – a catastrophic event for God's people. Amidst all of this, the prophets cried out over the injustice they saw within the people of Israel – ignoring the poor, the widows and orphans; perverting the system of justice for personal gain..
That is the world in which Habakkuk speaks. Habakkuk cries out to God, “Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise.” Habakkuk and the people of Israel are threatened by foreign powers and by internal injustice. The world around Habakkuk is all wrong, far from God's intentions and promises.
And Habakkuk cries out not only in lament to God, but in accusation. Habakkuk writes, “O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you 'Violence!' and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrong-doing and look at trouble?” As Habakkuk knows, the God of Israel is supposed to be a just God, a God who protects the righteous and punishes the wicked. Habakkuk sees justice perverted and the wicked prospering; and he is forced to wonder what God is doing. If the world is unjust, does that mean God is unjust? Or has God forgotten the people of Israel and God's promises to them?
Habakkuk is not the only voice that cries out in this way when faced with injustice. There are others in the Bible who question the justice of God: the book of Job is perhaps the most famous. And at times we may find ourselves asking the same questions. In the midst of violence around the world; poverty, disease, and hunger; the personal losses and hardships we experience; stories in the news about cyber-bullying driving teenagers to suicide – we may wonder if God is unjust or simply absent from our world. We may find ourselves wandering in a dark place, feeling far from God, full of pain and doubt.
It is comforting for me to know that Habakkuk is in that dark place with us. We are not alone when we ask these hard questions. Habakkuk and other faithful people throughout history have asked the same questions. And Habakkuk can provide us with a model and perhaps some hope in that dark place – for Habakkuk does not only lament, does not only ask questions. Habakkuk waits, however impatiently, for a response from God. I love Habakkuk's words: “I will stand at my watchpost, and station myself on the rampart; I will keep watch to see what God will say to me, and what God will answer concerning my complaint.” I imagine Habakkuk putting his foot down, saying to God, “I am not going to move until you answer me!” How many of us have felt that same impatience and insistence? Even when we are doubting God, we still wait for an answer from God, hoping and trusting that it will come.
For Habakkuk, the answer comes in two parts. God does respond to the voice of the prophet, but warns that the answer Habakkuk seeks requires more patience. God says, “There is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.” Habakkuk does not get the vision immediately. But God comes to remind Habakkuk of God's presence and faithfulness. Though it may seem that the answer to Habakkuk's questions is slow to come, God promises that it will come at just the right time.
God can speak to us through this word to Habakkuk, as well. When we find ourselves overwhelmed by the injustice all around us, or doubting the presence of God in the midst of injustice, we can read this word to Habakkuk. We can trust that God is still among us. Sometimes, we feel that presence of God in one another, in community. Sometimes, we can only hope that God's presence is there, unfelt. We trust in the word God gave to Habakkuk — that God does have a vision, a plan, and it will come at the appointed time.
When we gather here for worship, we often gather with joy. We celebrate weddings and baptisms; we celebrate God’s love and grace. Yet at other times, we gather here with different emotions. We gather to mourn at funerals, filled with sadness and overwhelmed by questions. Even for a regular Sunday service, some of you undoubtedly come weighed down by your doubts, fears, and pains. Some of you may come here overwhelmed by the injustice you see around you. Some of you may come, doubting whether God can be found here.
In many Christian churches, including this one, there is a special candle — the eternal candle. It’s right over there, on the wall. It remains lit, even when the service ends and all the other candles are extinguished. This eternal candle is meant to signify God’s ongoing, constant presence among us. Whether we gather in joy or in sadness, God remains faithfully present. Although we may not find the answers we are seeking — although we must wait for the vision to arrive — we trust that God’s spirit is here, as God has promised. Amen.
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