Here's today's sermon. It's budget time!
Sermon: Proper 27 (32), Year C 2007
Community Church of Wilmette
November 11, 2007
POM Sunday
Job 19:23-27a
Luke 20:27-38
This proved problematic when I would go hiking as a kid and then later in college. You see, I like the mountains. I like hiking in the mountains of Virginia. Old Rag. Humpback Ridge. These are great places along the Appalachian Trial to hike and to overlook the forest. But I'm afraid of heights.
Every time I would go on one of these expeditions with my friends, we would come to an overlook, some place where a slab of ancient granite juts out into space a thousand feet above the valley floor. One friend of mine from High School, John, was fearless. He would slide out the to edge and peer over. “Hey! Come and check this out!” He would shout. John knew better. But I would try. I would slide out as far as I could. But it was always to no avail. My fear of heights would get the best of me and I would scurry back into the woods, my knees knocking together and weak from fear.
There's a strange kind of shame in this particular phobia. I don't want to be afraid of heights. I can intellectualize the whole issue away. I can craft helpful images of strong rock and good balance. I can remind myself again and again that the turning of the earth on it's axis is one of the many reasons why I won't actually fall. But it all unravels. I just know that the slab of rock will crumble, or that my balance will falter, or that the very spin of the Earth will cause me to hurtle down into the valley below.
My fear of heights becomes a web of anxieties and I miss the beauty that is around me. The fear is real. The concerns are not going away any time soon. Try as I might, I am still afraid of heights. But what is most troubling is how that fear keeps me from enjoying the things I want to enjoy…from seeing the beauty of Washington National Forest…
I become distracted. And I miss the fundamental things that matter.
In today’s Gospel passage we encounter another group of people (specifically Sadducees who were Temple priests and believed in the resurrection) asking Jesus questions in the attempt to discredit him somehow. This is a fairly standard practice, even today. We question those who claim authority. We want to know if they are legitimate. We want to know if they are learned. And sometimes we just don’t trust what we hear. And so the Sadducees gather around Jesus and ask this question:
"Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man's brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her."There’s a certain absurdity to this question. It’s like some cosmological word problem from math class. A train leaves Toledo bound for Tupelo Mississippi at 7am at 43 miles an hour…carrying kumquats…Another train leaves Akron for Tupelo at 4:36pm at 57 miles an hour carrying encyclopedias. What time will a third train arrive in Cleveland?
In my more generous moments I like to think that it’s not really some absurd cosmological word problem, but really one of those classic ethical dilemmas of the day. It’s a question that arises out of a sincere and honest fear. But it becomes absurd, a question meant to distract and not intended to be answered. It’s not rhetorical per se, but its answers are elusive or incredibly complicated, and impractical. It is like so many questions that our politicians are asked as they run for office.
At its core the question is about how God cares for those in need. Again, if you recall, a woman would not necessarily hold a job. Most women of this age, and at the time of Moses, would have been supported through the wealth of their families, their fathers and husbands, their adult sons when the time came. Moses’ law is simply a social security measure. It’s an act of generosity. If your brother passes away leaving a widow who has no adult child to care for her, then you take her in. We have an obligation to care for one another. It’s really quite simple.
This question, however, tries to complicate things. It tries to shift the ethical center around, complicating the issue as much as possible. The resurrection of the body means the resurrection of relationships and that means that some people’s lives are going to get really complicated if everyone is resurrected!
Wow, what a mess! Who will take care of whom? What about the widow, Sarah, or old Levi who had three wives? Yes, this is complicated. So, where does Jesus stand? Well, Jesus sees something else at work.
Jesus sees that this a question that is not so much about Moses’ law or even resurrection, but about the anxieties of the people. If one hears the question with a kindly ear, then it expresses a legitimate concern. “What about those who cannot take care of themselves? What about our responsibilities to one another?” And behind all of this is the question: “What about me?”
So Jesus responds:
Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. Indeed they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection.Jesus is essentially trying to hold people accountable to a certain vision of the Kingdom of God. He wants them to understand that God is caring for them, upholding them. The resurrection as Jesus understands it is the full realization of God’s love for God’s creation.
Jesus wants the people around him, he wants us, to be upheld and to be held accountable to such a vision. He want us to realize that we sometimes allow ourselves to become distracted by anxieties and fear. Even legitimate fears can become distractions and we can allow them to take us away from the work that is at hand. The question that the Sadducees ask is just such a question. So Jesus in his wisdom seeks the question behind the question and speaks to the promises of God to love and care for all of us.
Jesus wants the Sadducees to remember the proclamation of Job. “I know that my Redeemer lives!” Job, too, is in the midst of an inquisition. And he is being challenged by his friends who test him with impossible questions about ethics, righteousness, right and wrong and the will of God. So Job proclaims the core of his faith. He does not get caught up in distractions. Job sees himself risen again from the dead. And he desires that his vision will be filled with God and no other. He recognizes that his health and salvation comes from God, that all he is, all he loves, is upheld in God’s grace. Job knows that at the center of all things is God.
This is how Jesus answers the Sadducees’ question. He cuts through their distractions and the anxieties and looks to the foundation of God’s desire for us all. And there is his answer.
Jesus’ entire ministry is about the little things that lead to this central proclamation. He knows that we are always on the verge of the Kingdom of God. He knows that the time is always ripe. He knows that God is always calling to us, asking us to stand in the security of Job. He wants us to let go of distracting anxieties and see the beauty of what is set before us.
Jesus also knows that there are real concerns, real needs. Thus, God heals. Thus, God steps across the false barriers, the false social limits that are set out of anxiety and fear, and Jesus meets people where they are. God’s work is to cut through the mess that we often so desperately cling to.
We are on the verge, brothers and sisters. We are on the verge of something tremendous. We are in the midst of transition and change here at Community Church. There is birth and rebirth, improvement and reformation. We are on the verge of the Kingdom of God.
Our lives are joined together in this work. How we live, love, understand one another, pay for our programs, keep our books, communicate with our committees, plan our events, and step outside these walls and minister to those in need participating in the Kingdom of God as it breaks through into our community shares this common foundation.
We are the proclamation of Job given flesh here in Wilmette.
We say: We know that our Redeemer lives.
We answer anxiety with hope and fear with compassion and courage.
Today is the beginning (the continuation?) of our collective conversation about the business and administrative life of our congregation. We are going to gather after worship and speak about what we love, how we care for one another and our community…and how we will pay for everything. It’s an exciting conversation.
We are on the verge of some amazing things here at Community Church. There are new ministries being born. There are old ministries being reborn. We are streamlining our efforts. We are focusing our identity.
We are on the verge of something tremendous…on a precipice overlooking a great valley. And it’s beautiful. Let’s not be distracted. It is the Kingdom of God.
Amen.
Posted by tripp at November 11, 2007 08:57 AM