Jeremiah
4:11-28. I continue to wonder how to preach these texts (and both
testaments have them, including right from the lips of Jesus!) which are straight
up, severe judgment. I could just blast my people – and some days they tempt me
sorely! I wonder about teasing out what happened back then (so, Judeans were
going through the motions, didn’t parse their own waywardness or their external
threats, so here’s how Jeremiah reported on what was in God’s aggrieved heart) –
and then (1) get a tad sarcastic, like Thank
God none of this applies to us! or (2) find the way to tremble and with
utter humility and solidarity with the people say Friends, I’ve been lying awake this week, wondering if we aren’t
grieving God’s heart in just this way.
What a vivid image Jeremiah employs when he
speaks of the hot, burning east wind. The theological nuance of the Hebrew is
inescapable: it’s a ruach, same word
as God’s creative wind, same word we render as God’s Spirit. In this case, God’s
Spirit is dry, harsh, unbearable. Jeremiah is thinking of the sirocco, the violent wind that scorches
from the Arabian desert to the east. George Adam Smith described it in his
diary: “Atmosphere thickening. Wind rises, gale blowing air filled with fine
sand, horizon less than a mile, sun not visible, grey sky with almost no
shadow.” Thinking of this ungentle breeze, David Grossman entitled his
harrowing book about the destructive violence of the Israeli-Palestinian crisis
Yellow Wind.
Is God like this sirocco? Does God unleash horrors on us out of the swirl of God’s
wounded, grieved heart? Or is it that God created the world with an order that
isn’t flouted without consequences – and so when we get sideways with God,
there are terrors? Martin Luther distinguished between God’s proper work and
God’s “alien work.” Wrath is simply the goodness, the grace of God, but how it
comes at us when we are at a bizarre angle or entirely out of sync with God. If
we pray for God’s Spirit, will it be a cool, life-giving breeze, or a harsh,
burning wind of judgment? Are our social anxieties, our political issues,
fretting over security, family division, international strife and injustices
abounding all instances of the harsh east wind of God’s sorrowing over us? Can
I tell this in a way that moves my people to repentance (which Jeremiah himself
didn’t get done!)?
1
Timothy 1:12-17. I have a curious attachment to this text ever since I was
on a retreat years ago and somebody handed me a little card saying “I give
thanks to Christ Jesus our Lord, because he counted me trustworthy in making me
his minister” – 1 Timothy 1:12. My gut reaction was “This translation must be
out of kilter, or tendentious in some way.” But the sense is Paul’s, expressing
surprise and gratitude that, yes, God chose me to be God’s minister. I have had
hundreds of these printed over the years. I stick them in notes written to
clergy, I hand them out when I speak at clergy events, and I keep one in my
car, one on my desk, and one in my sock drawer just to encourage and remind me.
I did hear a clergyman attempt what Paul
attempts here. I didn’t know him at all – but heard him declaring at some
length “I am a worse sinner than any of you.” Hard not to scratch your head and
wonder what he was harboring inside… Sermon didn’t go anywhere good. I think
Luke Timothy Johnson’s summary of the glory hidden in Paul’s manipulative
language is helpful: “The mercy shown Paul was not simply forgiveness of past
behavior, but the gift of power that enables him to live in a new way.”
Luke
15:1-10 (which I preached
on last time around): is this really the easy one? Jesus’ signature is all
over this short text. On this text, check out InLighten, a series of short, outstanding, thoughtful films geared to lectionary texts. The video on this text is moving indeed: the story of a courageous woman seeking out God's children lost in trafficking.
I’ll never forget the evening we had my former coworker
and constant friend Rev. Alisa Lasater Wailoo, pastor of Capitol Hill UMC in
Washington, back for a program. I opened by asking her a question she didn’t
know I would ask: Who is God? She
answered with the lost coin story –that God is like this woman, down on her
hands and knees, searching diligently in the cracks to find that one lost coin,
to find us.
The sheep story echoes this. It’s not
sufficient in God’s Kingdom to say, Hey, we have 99, that’s not bad. No, we
even risk losing the mass in hand to search out the one that’s lost.
I
chuckle over the Mitch Hedberg comedy routine: you’re in a restaurant, and they
call for the Dufresne family – but no reply. They move on to the next name –
but Mitch wants to hunt for the Dufresnes: “They’re not only lost. They’re
hungry.” The one sheep is lost, and hungry…
Of course, this little
parable tells us how to be the church. And it tells us about God – and we dare
not miss the note of Joy in God’s heart featured so prominently. Years ago I
heard someone I can’t recall preaching (isn’t this the way? – and a humbling
realization for us who preach!) who used this evidently true story as an
illustration. Several families were camping out west someplace, and as it was
getting dark, when getting ready for dinner, they noticed a little girl named
Cathy wasn’t there. Their search gradually became increasingly frantic as night
began to fall. “Cathy! Cathy! Cathy!” everyone was shouting as they fanned out.
Hours passed as their terror mounted. Finally, almost at dawn, someone stopped
shouting “Cathy!” and got really quiet – and heard the soft sound of a
whimpering child. There was Cathy, suffering from some bruises, scrapes and
exposure. They took her to the closest hospital where she was treated, and then
her family was home that night. Her dad tucked her into bed, kissed her
goodnight, turned out the light and was about to close the door when he heard
her voice. “Daddy?” “Yes, sweetheart?” Perched on her elbow, she smiled and said
to him, “I bet you’re glad you found me.” He replied, “Oh, if you only knew.”
Our idea for Sunday morning: we're going to hide (or semi-hide...) pennies all over the yard, parking lot and building for people to find (or not) - as in my sermon I'm going to tell what Annie Dillard reported from her childhood in Pittsburgh. As a 7 year old, "I used to take a preciouspenny of my own and hide it for someone else to find. I would cradle it at the roots of a sycamore,
say, or in a hole left by a chipped-off piece of sidewalk. Then I would take a piece of chalk, and,
starting at either end of the block, draw huge arrows leading up to the penny
from both directions. After I learned to
write I labeled the arrows: surprise ahead or money this way. I was greatly excited, during all this
arrow-drawing, at the thought of the first lucky passer-by who would receive in
this way, regardless of merit, a free gift from the universe… The world is fairly studded and strewn with
pennies cast broadside from a generous hand.
But – and this is the point – who gets excited by a mere penny?… But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and
simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since
the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a
lifetime of days."
*****
You might appreciate my book on preaching, The Beauty of the Word: The Challenge and Wonder of Preaching. It's not an intro, here's how to preach book, but more on the preaching life, the ongoing task of keep the Word and yourself fresh and on point.
Our idea for Sunday morning: we're going to hide (or semi-hide...) pennies all over the yard, parking lot and building for people to find (or not) - as in my sermon I'm going to tell what Annie Dillard reported from her childhood in Pittsburgh. As a 7 year old, "I used to take a precious
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