Showing posts with label Berlin wall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Berlin wall. Show all posts

Sunday, July 22, 2018

"Like Sheep Without a Shepherd." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.


"Like Sheep Without a Shepherd"

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56; Ephesians 2:11-22; Psalm 23



Woe!  This passage begins with the cry that marks an oracle of destruction.  “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!”
            The shepherd is a common ancient metaphor for leaders, and for kings in particular.  Jeremiah shares with the prophet Ezekiel the conviction that leaders bear more responsibility than their people for social justice.[1]

            There’s a persistent ethical theme throughout the Hebrew Bible. God requires the community to be ruled with justice and righteousness, which is to be made manifest in how they treat the alien, the orphan, and the widow.[2]  But, as Elaine James suggests, rulers who seek their own fortune, who expand their houses and enrich their coffers at the expense of the poor are in egregious violation of God’s covenant, and will be held accountable.[3]
            Jeremiah continues proclaiming a word from the LORD:  “Therefore…concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended them. So, I will attend to you for your evil doings.”
            The prophet speaks with tenderness and compassion on behalf of the people.  Judah’s political leaders have been corrupt and have failed the people, but God is the shepherd who will ultimately redeem the people.
            In Psalm 23, which we heard earlier, we hear similar images of a divine shepherd who is a source of comfort and life.  In the scriptures, we hear assurances that, while corrupt leadership has “scattered” the sheep, God will “gather the remnant of my flock.” God will act as the good shepherd, as a model of just rule and care.
            Jesus is described in these terms in the passage we heard today from Mark’s gospel. Jesus sees that the crowd of people are “like sheep without a shepherd,” and has compassion on them.
            The imagery of shepherds and flocks of sheep would have been well-known to people in ancient times.  The shepherd--and by analogy the king--  is responsible for the well-being of the sheep:  to feed them, protect them, guide them.
            But the opening verses of Jeremiah 23 accuse the shepherds of destroying and scattering God’s sheep.  The kings have not been good shepherds. The sheep are in exile, scattered among the nations.  God’s anger is aroused by the “evil doings” of the descendants of King David who ruled Judah, who probably included Jehoahaz, Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin, and Zedekiah.[4]
            Jeremiah prophesied that each king had failed to “execute justice in the morning    and deliver from the hand of the oppressor anyone who has been robbed.[5]
            The chapters leading up to today’s passage from Jeremiah provide context.  The Bible tells us that King Josiah, who reigned from 640--609 BCE, “judged the cause of the poor and the needy.”[6]    In contrast, the “eyes and heart of Josiah’s heirs were set on “dishonest gain, for shedding innocent blood, and for practicing oppression and violence.”[7]
           
            Jeremiah prophesied in the final years of the Kingdom of Judah, through the reign of the last king, Zedekiah.  These were turbulent times for the leaders of ancient Judah. The seats of power in the ancient Near East had shifted.  The Assyrian imperial dominance of the past hundred years was waning, and the Babylonian empire was on the rise. This international upheaval left the kings in the little nation of Judah with some very difficult decisions. Would they pay taxes to the new empire in Babylon, or should they side with their neighbor Egypt?  Could they be independent and refuse to pay tribute to either one? It turns out that the decision to withhold tribute--against Jeremiah’s advice-- would not end well. The shepherds of Judah made policy decisions that placed the people in jeopardy and ultimately led to their exile.[8]
             As biblical scholar Elna Solvang points out, while Zedekiah’s name means “my righteousness is the LORD,” his reign was far from righteous.[9]

            As I worked with the passage from Jeremiah for today, I realized I needed a bit of a refresher course on the context, so I could interpret the passage accurately. In my Introduction to the Old Testament class at Princeton Seminary, we were required to memorize the names and order of the kings of the kingdoms of Judah and Israel and the prophets who prophesied in each of those times. But that was a long time ago.
            As I did some reading, it occurred to me that all this background might sound pretty political to a lot of people.  It sounds political-- because it is political. Jeremiah was prophesying in response to what was going on, and he was bringing a word of judgment from God to the political leaders of his time.
            Jeremiah’s prophecy is rooted in a challenge to corrupt and ineffectual government over the people, a critique of the “shepherds” who have destroyed and scattered God’s sheep. 
            After pronouncing judgment on the evil shepherds, God promises to shepherd God’s people Godself and then to raise up shepherds over them.  In this promise, we hear hope for peace, security, and prosperity, all of which are rooted in the faithfulness of God.  
            Jeremiah’s prophecy offers a vision of God’s breaking into human history, but it is clear that we aren’t yet living in the state of shalom for which we long, where justice and peace rule.  The prophecy points us to the “already” and the “not-yet” of God’s work among us.

            The gospels tell us that the people in Jesus’ day had been hoping for a Messiah who would come with armies and rule with might… a Messiah who would provide for peace through war and by defeating their worldly enemies.
            But Jesus showed us that God shepherds and protects God’s people not through violence, but by offering God’s very self, and by teaching us to love even our enemies.  Jesus revolutionizes our understanding of what God’s promise of security and prosperity mean in the kin-dom of God.  Governments are true to God’s purposes only when they rule in congruence with Christ’s self-giving and understanding of love that is at the heart of the gospel.

            Jeremiah has often been called “the weeping prophet.” We hear the prophets crying, “Woe!” and weeping over that which grieves God, calling us to lament corruption and destruction and injustice.  They speak of the grief of God that the people need to share, because--without it--there can be no newness. They point us to a vision of how God intends God’s people to live, and they make claims on us regarding “the execution of justice and rightness in the land.”   
            So, how do we live in response to the hope we have been promised?  How do we live into the new life God desires for us?

            Some of us may feel “like sheep without a shepherd.” Will there be shepherds for us who are different from former shepherds?-- shepherds who will choose to be good shepherds, who will attend to the justice, protection, mercy, and righteousness that mirror God’s shepherding?
            Just as the people of Judah could respond to bad shepherding by being cynical about their leaders, we too might be struggling with cynicism.
            We look around and we remember that children in Flint have had their lives and their potential forever changed due to lead in the water… that thousands of poor families in Detroit are living without running water… that many people in Puerto Rico live without electrical power.  We see images of children separated from their families at our southern border.  We worry about the stripping of the social safety net while the wealthiest get tax breaks.

            In Paul's letter to the church at Corinth, he tells them that, from now on... we regard no one from a human point of view....   if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation...from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.   In Christ, God was reconciling the world to Godself and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.[10]
            That ministry of reconciliation is still our calling.  For Christ is our peace. In his flesh, he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall of hostility between us.
            Christ came proclaiming peace to those who were far off and peace to those who were near....  No one is to be a stranger or alien, but citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God....  joined together and growing into a holy temple in the Lord...  built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.[11]
            In the passage from the letter to the Ephesians, we see a glimpse of the new community:      So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. 
            The good news of Christian faith, according to the letter to the Ephesians, is that, in this broken world, reconciliation is no longer merely a dream, a longing for what once was, a hope for what someday might be-- but something that already is.  Into a world still torn by death, sin, and hostility, Christ came proclaiming “peace to you who were far off and peace to those who are near.”

            In a time when we hear a lot of talk about building barriers along our nation’s southern border to prevent illegal immigrants from entering,  a time when Israelis have built a wall to separate themselves from the Palestinians,  and other territories are protected by barriers and demilitarized zones to keep enemies apart.
            Now, eliminating boundaries doesn’t in itself create peace. Peace comes by eliminating the hostility behind the dividing walls. God doesn’t just tear down walls, but unites people in the One who is our peace, creating one new humanity.

            Some of us are old enough to remember the day the Berlin Wall came down. Most of us never expected it to happen in our lifetimes, and the feelings of surprise and possibility were palpable. If this wall could fall, what else?
            The end of apartheid in South Africa brought even more hope and excitement. The divisions of black, white, and colored of the Apartheid system were coming apart, and reconciliation became possible.
            Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa said he believes that God’s hand was in that miracle.
            “God saw our brokenness and sought to extricate us from it-- but only with our cooperation. God will not cajole or bully us, but wants to woo us for our own sakes. We might say that the Bible is the story of God’s attempt to effect atonement, to bring us back to our intended condition of relatedness. God was, in Christ, reconciling the world to God. God sent Jesus who would fling out his arms on the cross as if to embrace us. God wants to draw us back into an intimate relationship and so bring to unity all that has become dis-united. This was God’s intention from the beginning. And each of us is called to be an ally of God in this work of justice and reconciliation.”

            In the midst of all the brokenness and fearfulness and busy-ness and weariness and cynicism and hopelessness in our world, our Shepherd God keeps calling us into beloved, Sabbath community, where we can be fed and find rest,  a community where we can encourage, console and celebrate with each other, renew our vision… and remind one another that we were put in this world for Gods good purposes. 
            Thanks be to God! Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
July 22, 2018


[1] Ezekiel uses this same metaphor to speak of the exile of Judah in Babylon in Ezekiel 34.
[2] Jeremiah 22:3-4
[3] Elaine James also cites Jeremiah 22:13-17 in her  “Commentary on Jeremiah 23:1-6,” in Working Preacher blog, at  http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3701

[4] Jeremiah 22:11-12, Jeremiah 22:18, Jeremiah 22:24-30, Jeremiah 21:3-7.
[5] Jeremiah 21:12a
[6] Jeremiah 22:16
[7] Jeremiah 22:17
[8] Jeremiah 27:4-8
[9] Elna K. Solvang, in Commentary on Jeremiah 23:1-6 at Working Preacher blog, at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=349

[10]2 Corinthians 5:16-19
1 [11]Ephesians 2:13-22


Monday, December 21, 2015

"Saying Yes to God". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the 4th Sunday of Advent, on Luke 1.


"Saying Yes to God"
Luke 1, on the 4th Sunday of Advent



Angels don’t show up very often in the Scriptures.  But when they do appear, usually something BIG... strange...  and wonderful is about to happen.
            The angel Gabriel came to tell Mary that she had been chosen by God to help change the world,  by bearing the Christ.
Though Gabriel called Mary "favored one,"  she didn't feel favored-- at least not at first.  She felt perplexed.  “How can this be?”
            And yet Mary responded to Gabriel by saying,  "Here am I, the servant of the Lord.  Let it be with me according to your word."
            In other words, Mary says,  "I'm not sure what all of this means.  but nevertheless,   here I am, ready to be of service in God's work.  Whatever you say, God."
            What a wonderful, faithful thing for Mary to say!   It couldn't have been an easy decision for her.  Change never is.
            There was a lot at stake for Mary.  She was young.  Her marriage to Joseph had been arranged, and she was full of plans for her life and their future together.  She had some sense of what kind of life it would be...   some idea about what she could expect in life.
            Mary was poor...  and vulnerable.   As a female, her economic SURVIVAL depended on marriage.  Her security depended on her attractiveness as a wife and mother.         So--  what did it mean for a girl like Mary to say yes to God’s plan?
            It meant risking all that she had hoped for...   all her plans for her life.    It meant risking her security.  And it meant risking her very LIFE.  The penalty for a woman caught in ADULTERY in her day could be public STONING.  If Joseph believed that her pregnancy was a result of an illicit affair,  then-- by LAW-- Mary could be taken to the edge of town and STONED to death.
            Mary's story reminds us that to be God's servant in the world means risking radical changes in our priorities.  It means placing our very lives into God's hands.   It means trusting in God to CARE for us—even through dangerous times.
            Yet Mary responded in obedience and trust and courage.   "Here I am, Lord."  I'll be your servant." 
            If Mary's DECISION was extraordinary,  her RESPONSE to the decision was even more extraordinary. 
            Luke tells us--  after the angel left-- Mary hurried to visit her elderly cousin Elizabeth, who had been unable to bear children all her life.  As proof that nothing is impossible with God--  the angel Gabriel had told Mary that Elizabeth was six months pregnant in her old age.
            When Elizabeth hears Mary's voice, the child leaps in her womb, and she knows that she has been especially touched by God.  Filled with the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth calls out:  "You are BLESSED among women.  Blessed is she who believed that God's promise would be fulfilled!"
            By declaring both Mary and the fruit of her womb “blessed,” Elizabeth begins a series of blessings that weave through Luke’s birth narrative and intensify its tone of joy and praise.  Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon will all add their blessings, praising God for what God is doing at this moment in history   and recognizing that those who are privileged to be instruments of God’s saving work have been richly blessed.  
            Mary's song is a song of JOY and PRAISE.      "My soul magnifies the Lord,  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.  Surely, from now on, all generations will call me blessed."
            Joy comes to us as a GIFT--  often an unexpected gift.  So all we can really do is to receive it...   believe in it...  and stop doing things that get in its way.
            That's what happened to Mary at Elizabeth's house.  She stopped wringing her hands   and wondering what in the world she was going to do next.  She got surprised by JOY and started singing a song the church is still singing to this day.

            Mary has been a model of faith for Christians through the centuries.  God needed Mary's freely given "YES"  to God's gracious invitation to become the Mother of Jesus.  The mystery of INCARNATION could not have taken place without Mary's wholehearted "YES".  And that "YES"  couldn't have taken place without Mary's unbounded trust in God.

            Do you wonder?  How was such radical obedience and openness on Mary's part made possible?  How did she get from saying, “How can this be?”—to “Let it be, according to God’s word”?
            I think it grew out of the sense of trust that had developed in her as she heard the stories of the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob...  and how God had always dealt with her people.  That long history had taught her two things about God--  that God was utterly mysterious...  and yet always good.   God's ways are almost never obvious...  but they inevitably work out better than we could imagine.   And that's some of the GOOD NEWS of God. 

            The old King James Version puts part of Mary’s song of praise this way:  “He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.”  I think that’s an especially apt translation, for it is by our imagining, by what our hearts picture in fear or desire, that we humans are pushed and pulled in our many directions.
            Imagination can be a channel for our destruction—especially when fear and resentment prevail.  But it can also serve to gather and bless and inspire us.   

            We live in a society in which the gap between the rich and poor has widened…  a society in which many people of goodwill are finding it important and necessary to declare that black lives matter… where it’s important and necessary to stand in solidarity with our Muslim neighbors.   We live in a time of fear and suspicion of people who are different… and a growing number of people believe they need guns to protect themselves against all the terrible things they imagine.   
            We live in a world in which many people lack adequate food or safe water or shelter or sanitation.   The list could go on and on.  But it doesn’t have to be that way. 
            As I was working on this sermon, I was reminded of a photo I saw some time ago Facebook:  a young Palestinian mother in Gaza is holding her newborn child, saying,  “I hope my daughter will live in peace.”   Imagine it!  Is anything impossible for God?
            I’ve really grown to love the season of Advent.  As Gracia Grindal writes in one of her hymns, “We light the Advent candles against the winter night.”  Not “because of” or “during,” but “against” the winter night.   The light of Advent, like the light of Christ, is a protest to the darkness that surrounds us.[1] 
            Instead of being overwhelmed and despairing over what’s wrong in the world or trying to trying to avoid it by working to “have ourselves a merry little Christmas,” the themes and the music of Advent can point us to another way:  the way of hope.  They way of joyful obedience that Mary models for us—working with God to change the world.

            I heard a story about a hungry child in a poor community who prayed fervently one Christmas for some food and toys, but nothing happened.   A cynical friend asked her with a sneer,  "What happened to this God of yours?  Why didn't He hear and answer you?'
            The child answered simply,  "Oh, I'm sure God did hear me...  and told someone to bring me a Christmas gift.  But I guess they just forgot."[2]
            I think more often than not, this is where the breakdown occurs:   not with God-- but with us.  God, for reasons of God's choosing, wants to involve us humans in completing the creation.  God invites us into the JOY of this, but we hear too faintly...  and forget too quickly.  
            In Advent, we’re reminded of the reason for this holy season.  When circumstances are dark and difficult, we need to look beyond ourselves for salvation.  We need to listen again for God’s promises   and for signs that “the world is about to turn.”
            If you read through the first few chapters of Luke, you’ll notice that there are several songs.   Mary sings the “Magnificat” in today’s story.  Zehariah sings when his son John is born and his tongue is finally loosened.  The angels sing of peace and goodwill when they share their “good news of great joy” with the shepherds.  And Simeon sings his song of farewell when he has seen God’s promises fulfilled. 
            Why all these songs?  I think David Lose is right when he suggests that singing can be an act of resistance.   African slaves knew this.  When they sang their spirituals, they were praising God and also protesting the injustices of their lives and even pointing the way to freedom. 
            The civil rights leaders knew this, too, singing songs like “We Shall Overcome” and other freedom songs.
            The protesters in Leipzig in 1989 knew this as well.  For several months before the fall of the Berlin wall, the citizens of Leipzig gathered on Monday evenings by candlelight around St. Nikolai Church—the church where Bach composed so many of his cantatas—to sing.  Over two months, their numbers grew from a little more than a thousand people to more than three hundred thousand—over half the citizens of the city.  They sang songs of hope and protest and justice, until their song shook the powers of their nation and changed the world. 
            Later, when someone asked one of the officers of the Stasi, the East German secret police, why they did not crush this protest like they had so many others, the officer replied, “We had no contingency plan for song.”[3]
            Today, I hope that as we are gathered around this word from the gospel, we will to imagine ourselves alongside Mary, seeing history’s hard cruelty give way to hope and gracious surprise.   Let us sing Mary’s song of praise with her...  and envision the vindication of the poor.   
            A lot of what we do when we come together in worship is practicing this imagination of the heart, by the gift and command of God.  In the liturgy, we imagine that love rules already,  that the lowly are lifted up, that death is conquered, sin cleansed away... peace triumphant...and Christ touched and seen and tasted.  On the verge of Christmas, we imagine and sing with Mary.
            Imagine with the Magnificat its dream of a justice that redistributes wealth and privilege and power.   Imagine a world where the lion and the lamb can be together in peace… where those who have been proud and rich can be in solidarity with those who yearn for a turning of the socio-economic tables… imagine discovering that there can be enough for everyone in God’s realm.           
            And remember that we're invited to participate more fully in God's saving work in the world. 
            Mary was invited to bear Christ.  And so, my friends, are we. 
            We can choose to say YES to God, and open ourselves to let God use us as instruments of love and grace and mercy and justice and peace.
Today’s gospel story is about Mary.  But it’s your story and mine as well.  God has chosen each of us, favored each of us, graced each of us.
By the power of God’s Spirit, God has descended upon us and conceived Christ in us.   We are called to be God-bearers,   calling that can bring with it extraordinary privileges as well as significant hardships.  But the promise remains the same: nothing is impossible for the One we serve and bear.
We are called to bear the love of Christ out into the world...  and let it transform the world, as it transforms us. 
            " Let it be with me.  Let it be with us, according to your Word.”  Let it be!



Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
December 20, 2015

                       
                                                     


[1] David Lose, “Singing As An Act of Resistance, at his blog “In the Meantime” at davidlose.net


[2]John Claypool in Lectionary Homiletics, Dec. 1996, p. 33.
[3] David Lose, “Singing As An Act of Resistance, at davidlose.net, December 14, 2015.