What can we say August 28? 12th after Pentecost

   Summer's over. Back to school - or whatever the transitions may be for our people. How to tap that mood? Jeremiah offers plaintive warnings about losing your way. Hebrews gives us good cause not to be afraid - and Luke ponders with whom we hang out. All key in peculiar ways.

    Jeremiah 2:4-13. God sounds like a wounded lover or heartbroken parent here: “What wrong did they find in me?” Do we do this – finding fault with God? Or is it exasperation that the God of Scripture isn’t quite the God we’re looking for, or that God is inadequate somehow to what we'd assign to God?

   From God’s perspective, they “went after worthless things, and thus became worthless.” The Hebrew is hebel, featured so provocatively in Ecclesiastes (“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity”): hebel is a wisp, a breeze, nothing really, just dust settling. Can I show hebel somehow in my sermon? Dropping a little shred of paper or some dried up leaves?

   “You take on the character of the god you follow” (Walter Brueggemann). We become what our pursuits are, what we pay attention to. If we pursue God and substantive holiness, we become just that. Fascinating: our searching, our quest defines who we become! The preacher is wise to ask, Who are the vain recipients of our devotion? – and it’s such a long list. Political ideology, for sure. Things. Others. Self. Institutions – which Brueggemann hears as collapsing in this text. The church itself can be a vain recipient of devotion.

   On idolatry, and gods who are nothing reducing you to nothing, Thomas Merton, writing in 1965 but fitting today: "The great sin is idolatry. It is almost completely unrecognied precisely because it is so overwhelming, total. It takes in everything. Festishism of power, machines, possessions, sports, clothes, all kept going by greed for money and power. The Bomb is only 1 accidental aspect of the cult. We should be thankful for it as a sign, a revelation of what the rest of our civilization points to: the self-immolation of man to his own greed, and his own despair. Unless man turns from his idols to God, he will destroy himself, or rather his idolatry will prove itself to be his destruction."

   It’s about asking the right questions, and digging past the obvious. “Where is the Lord?” (a good question) needs modifying, since it’s not just any Lord, but “the one who brought us up out of Egypt.” The Lord isn’t a genie in a bottle or a personal assistant or an energy drink.

   Verse 8 should haunt all clergy: “The priests did not say, ‘Where is the Lord?’ Those who handle the law did not know me.” Can we answer well Jeremiah’s question “Do people change their gods?” Well of course they do, we do, we have, and will! “Can a nation change its god?” Nation can become the god, or it’s idolatry when we think we can compel the nation to follow a god of our own imagining. A sermon could explore the bogus gods we fixate on, and dream upon. We’re in a double fix: not only has God been forsaken, but the new fake deities gut us. Is Jeremiah pointed to a “cracked cistern holding no water”? We think our religiosity or busy-ness will hold water. What are the modern parallels for such cisterns?

   Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16 is rich with homiletical potential! “Let mutual love (philadelphia!) continue” – but should we instead say “Let mutual love begin”? This Greek, philadelphia, reminds me of the Tom Hanks film by that name – about a man suffering from HIV and AIDS, simply asking, in those early days, for fairness, acceptance, justice and love. The goal of philadelphia isn’t merely enjoying people like us, but philoxenia, love for strangers.

   Why love them? We strangers have been loved. And, Hebrews, like Genesis 18 (Abraham and Sarah welcoming the strangers by the Oaks of Mamre), reveals that God has this quirky way of using the stranger to test us, to let God’s self be made known to us, for new life to come through them, the them who should be we/us. Tricky thing is, even if you think the stranger might be that angel, a divine visitor, you more likely think, Ehhh, probably not. Maybe to grow toward this philoxenia, the stranger we may need to learn to welcome is that stranger within, the me that is restless, feeling inadequate, exhausted, dislocated.

   “Be content”? The sermon must expose Madison Avenue and all advertising for what it is – a constant clamor of Do not be content! You need more, newer, different gadgets, stuff, clothes, experiences. Contentment isn’t even Okay, now I possess enough of those things. The Greek arkoumenoi means enough, sufficient – and then clarifies resides in God’s promise never to forsake us. Flannery O’Connor once spoke of the Eucharist, noting how it’s not much yet it’s more than enough: “It is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.” 

   Kate Bowler’s terrific No Cure for Being Human, and then her devotional Good Enough probe this spiritual challenge and invitation with humor and wisdom.

   “Remember those in prison – as if you were in there with them.” Part 2 of that is bold. Not Pity them, or Pray for them. Envision yourself as in prison – in an act of solidarity, and the realization that we are all in bondage!

   What is an “undefiled marriage bed”? Two lie down: is the defilement lust (even then)? Dominance? Judgment? Iciness? Welcoming a stranger in this place is defilement! Listeners will suspect homosexuality might be in play here – and it must be the case that even those who totally embrace same gender relationships and marriage have to recognize that those beds too can be defiled in the same way straight beds are. “Let marriage be held in honor by all”? Thankfully it doesn’t say “traditional marriage”!

   Notice the proximity of hospitality to strangers and marriage. Isn’t Hebrews inviting couples to have missional marriages? Not asking God to make us happy or keep the peace, but What is God calling us, as a couple, to be and do? Is philoxenia our relationship’s mission statement? How to begin such a quest? Our Gospel lesson keeps it simple – but it’s oh so counter-cultural.

   Luke 14:1, 7-14 is my favorite text that stands so well on its own I’m tempted merely to read it, let folks ponder it in silence, then read it again and sit down: “When you host a dinner, do not invite those who can invite you in return, but invite the poor, maimed, lame, blind” requires zero finesse.

   Spiritual people love that old Moravian blessing, “Come, Lord, Jesus, our Guest to be. And bless these gifts bestowed by Thee.” But if Jesus pulls up to your table, he asks who’s there, who isn’t there, and why.

   Our beloved The Bible is clear! Or We stand with Scripture! people avert their gazes, or scramble to rationalize. Notice Jesus doesn’t say Don’t only invite those who can invite you in return – but flat out, Don’t invite them! Sheesh. Jesus isn’t devising a program to feed the hungry – although he urges us to be sure they are fed. He’s on a mission to save our souls. I often say If you only hang around with people like you, you become arrogant and ignorant.

   I also love to tell this: I think of people who have with some grandiosity walked into my office with a ham, or a food gift card, asking me to get it to some poor person. On bad days I’d say Thanks! On better days I’d say Find someone and deliver it to them yourself. On my best days I’d say Take it home, and invite the people you have in mind into your home and share it with them. That’s a Jesus-y meal, right? Can you tell a story, even from your own having dinners, that might paint the picture?

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  Check out my book, not on how to preach, but how to continue preaching: The Beauty of the Word: The Challenge and Wonder of Preaching.