Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Truth

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
November 22, 2009; Last Pentecost; Proper 29, Year B
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(John 18:33-37) – Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" Pilate replied, "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here." Pilate asked him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."
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In 1919 a shattered Europe reeled from the vast death and destruction of what they had named "The Great War." The Russian revolution and rise of fascism sent shudders through the continent. In 1919 William Butler Yeats wrote a poem of apocalyptic timelessness, opening with these words:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity. (1)

In 2009 Yeats words seem to describe our own apocalyptic age, when things fall apart and the center does not hold; innocence is drowned, cynicism parades as wisdom and the worst in our world are full of passionate certainties and intensity.

I got an email from a friend this week. His presenting issue was an election for a bishop in his diocese. But he spoke of a wider malaise. "I'm actually pretty disgusted at the state of humanity in this country in general right now," he said. "The overall ethical fiber, no matter what phase you look at is shot. Things do not bode well in my opinion." His conclusion: "I fully expect us to elect the wrong bishop. Oh well!"

Around the year 30 of the Common Era, a young Jew stood beaten, bound, and trapped in front of the governor of a province in the Roman Empire. For his small circle of friends, their world was turning and turning in the widening gyre. The falcon could not hear the falconer. Things were falling apart and the center faced execution.

In apocalyptic times, fear seeps into us. We want something sound and secure to place our hope in. When the foundations are shaking, we turn anxiously searching for something with authority, something unshakable and true.

The scene with Jesus before Pilate shows us some options for truth. First, the characters in the scene. There are the scribes who have turned Jesus over to Pilate. There is Pilate the governor. But over his shoulder there is the ghost of Caesar, at whose pleasure Pilate rules. And there is Jesus. Each of these characters has a version of authority and truth that they follow.

The scribes are the people of the book. They study the scriptures and adhere to its teaching. They have redacted the teachings into 613 commandments, and they apply its laws with confidence that they know and follow God's will. According to the book, according to the law, they are certain: Jesus deserves death as a blasphemer.

People love objective truth – the truth of prescriptive authority. When in doubt, look it up. Search the scriptures; quote the Qur'an. Declare a moralism with absolute certainty. Then throw the book at them, secure in your truth. "The worst are full of passionate intensity."

Looming over the scene between Jesus and Pilate is the truth of power. For Caesar power is truth. Might makes right. If you can't buy the results you want, take it by force. Caesar's ghost hovers threateningly over this interrogation.

And there is Pilate. For a moment he looks like an investigator, trying to learn the facts, to ferret out information like a detective or scientist. But when it gets personal, when Jesus asks him to commit himself to the process, he retreats into the abstract towers of the Greek academy. "What is truth?" he asks rhetorically.

Three traditions of truth confront Jesus – the objective truth of the book; the truth that power claims; the abstract truth of the rational. None of these are the way of Jesus.

Listen instead to these words from 1852, spoken by the noted preacher Frederic W. Robertson in the elevated rhetoric of those days. You'll have to listen with some concentration. Preachers expected a lot from their listeners in 1852:

[Jesus] taught not by elaborate trains of argument, like a scribe or a philosopher: He uttered His truths rather as detached intuitions, recognized by intuition, to be judged only by being felt. For instance, “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.” “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” “Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you.” Prove that - by force - by authority - by argument - you can not. It suffices that a man reply, “It is not so to me: it is more blessed to receive than it is to give.” You have no reply: if he be not of the truth, you can not make him hear Christ’s voice. The truth of Christ is true to the unselfish; a falsehood to the selfish. They that are of the truth, like Him, hear His voice: and if you ask the Christian’s proof of the truth of such things, he has no other than this: It is true to me, as any other intuitive truth is true; equals are equal, because my mind is so constituted that they seem so perforce. Purity is good, because my heart is so made that it feels it to be good.

Brother men, the truer you are, the humbler, the nobler, the more will you feel Christ to be your king. (2)

Jesus speaks truth in the first person . Jesus makes truth personal. "I am the way and the truth and the life." Then he tells his friends of the way and life of truth. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the peacemakers. Love one another. Love your neighbor as yourself. Turn the other cheek. Jesus makes concrete in a human life the truth of God. He reveals to us a God who is eternally a God of love and grace.

God loves us eternally. That is truth. God eternally wills the blessing of creation. That is truth. God works in and through us to make blessing. That's what Jesus tells us and shows us. If you get that, follow him. You'll be living in the truth. In Jesus, truth becomes a verb. "Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

So listen. Do you hear the hint of goodness or a sound of love? Hear it. Then use your intuition. Follow it.

The nineteenth century spiritual director Jean Pierre deCaussade said that the only duty we have is to do God's will in the present moment. He said further that God's will can only be three things: (1) to do some present duty; or (2) to enjoy some present opportunity; or (3) in the dark mystery of God, to suffer something for God's sake. Accept the circumstances of the present moment, and let your intuition tell you what God's will is. Then do it with perfect confidence. Either do some duty, enjoy some opportunity, or suffer something necessary, and live in peace. You are in perfect relationship with God and you are advancing God's kingdom insofar as it is within your means. DeCaussade's teaching is an eighteenth century version of today's maxim: WWJD. "What would Jesus do?" Do that.

Trust love and compassion, for those are the very being of God. Then do what your intuition tells you that God wills. Everyone who belongs to truth listens to the voice that speaks love and grace, eternally.

You can be a falcon who does hear the voice of the falconer. Love is the center that holds all things in its orbit. Justice and compassion are loosed upon the world. The blood from Jesus heals and restores innocence. Here is something worth giving your life to with a passionate intensity that heals and restores rather than uses and abuses. Brothers and sisters, the truer you are, the humbler, the nobler, the more will you feel Christ. And that is the truth.


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1. William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming. www.potw.org/archive/potw351.html
2. The Kingdom of the Truth, sermon by Frederic W. Robertson. www.fwrobertson.com/sermons/ser20.htm
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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373
More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org
Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org

Saturday, November 07, 2009

The Story of Ruth and Naomi

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
November 8, 2009; 23 Pentecost; Proper 27, Year B
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17) – Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, "My daughter, I need to seek some security for you, so that it may be well with you. Now here is our kinsman Boaz, with whose young women you have been working. See, he is winnowing barley tonight at the threshing floor. Now wash and anoint yourself, and put on your best clothes and go down to the threshing floor; but do not make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, observe the place where he lies; then, go and uncover his feet and lie down; and he will tell you what to do." She said to her, "All that you tell me I will do."

So Boaz took Ruth and she became his wife. When they came together, the LORD made her conceive, and she bore a son. Then the women said to Naomi, "Blessed be the LORD, who has not left you this day without next-of-kin; and may his name be renowned in Israel! He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age; for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has borne him." Then Naomi took the child and laid him in her bosom, and became his nurse. The women of the neighborhood gave him a name, saying, "A son has been born to Naomi." They named him Obed; he became the father of Jesse, the father of David.

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The Book of Ruth is a wonderful story about two women who claim a path of life in an imperfect world, and find God has been moving deep within their trials to bring blessing. Our first reading today was from a pivotal moment in the story, but I'm going to try to retell the whole narrative.

The story begins with famine in Bethlehem. Naomi and her husband must migrate to another country, to Moab, a perennial enemy and competitor of Israel. They start anew as immigrants in a strange country. They raise two sons who grow up to marry their local sweethearts.

But tragedy strikes and all three of the men of the family die. Naomi is destitute in a foreign land. In a patriarchal culture, without a man, she has no standing, no property, no protection. She has no food or shelter, s0 she determines to return to Bethlehem where she hopes she can renew her family ties. She urges her two Moabite daughters to seek similar refuge within their own families.

But her daughter-in-law Ruth refuses. Ruth's primary loyalty is toward her mother-in-law. Ruth expresses a kind of fidelity that is so deep, so matter-of-fact, that to her there wasn't even a choice to be made. Naomi tries to argue and reason with Ruth. But from Ruth's perspective, there is nothing to talk about. Her fidelity toward Naomi is simply what it is. "You are my mother-in-law. I love you. I am staying with you. That's that." Or more poetically, from the King James Version, "Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." These two women are from different tribes, different nations. They are not blood kin. But Naomi and Ruth manifest fidelity, family at its best. Ruth aligns her fate to this destitute widow rather than seeking her own welfare among her own people. The women find safe harbor within their relationship.

There is a Hebrew word that describes this relationship. Hesed. It means steadfast love, kindness, loyalty, fidelity; caring for another who is in need within the context of relationship. Over and over hesed is a word used to describe God's steadfast love for us. Ruth sticks with Naomi just because that's the way she is; she has hesed for Naomi, steadfast love. God sticks with us just because that's the way God is; God has hesed for us, steadfast love. Fidelity, kindness, loyalty. God says to us, "You are my children. I love you. I am staying with you no matter what. That's that."

Hesed is expressed within established relationships. Family and church are great teaching grounds for hesed. In family and church we learn to live with people we didn't choose. We are stuck with each other, just like God is stuck with us. So we live with a certain loyalty and fidelity toward the other, because that's the way it is. We belong to each other.

So Ruth, the young widowed Moabite follows her older Jewish mother-in-law Naomi to Israel, to Bethlehem. And Naomi devises a plan for securing their survival in this marginal and threatening situation.

Naomi knows the system. So she creates a survival strategy for the women. We all live in systems. To thrive, you got to understand the system and know how to maneuver in it. If you work the system well, follow its rules, there are ways to produce a good outcome – generosity and virtue. Naomi works the system actively and appropriately, with courage and wit.

Naomi has to coach Ruth about how to negotiate the customs of the system in a land that is foreign to Ruth. The system says that land is passed through the sons. If a male landowner dies without leaving a male heir, the next-of-kin has a right to claim the land so it will remain in the family, and an obligation to marry the widow in order to bear offspring to continue the name and the family line.

Naomi coaches the Moabite, and tells Ruth to go to her kinsman Boaz. "Wash and anoint yourself and put on your best clothes," she says. Ruth is to wait until Boaz retires to sleep, and to join him there. The text says, "When Boaz had eaten and drunk, and he was in a contented mood, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain" on the threshing floor. Following Naomi's instructions, Ruth "came stealthily and uncovered his feet, and lay down. At midnight the man was startled, and turned over, and there, lying at his feet, was a woman! He said, 'Who are you?' And she answered, 'I am Ruth your servant; spread your cloak over your servant, for you are next-of-kin."

To spread one's cloak is an act to symbolize a proposal for marriage. Ruth tells Boaz that this is his right as next-of-kin. In the warmth of this intimate moment, Naomi's strategy works. Boaz agrees to fulfill this duty, but informs Ruth that there is another kinsman who has a prior claim. In the next scene, Boaz goes to the city gate where justice is administered in order to give the other claimant his rights. The other wants the property, but not the responsibility of raising an heir. Boaz legally secures his rights as next-of-kin and marries Ruth. The story comes full circle with the birth of Obed, a name meaning "servant." In a beautiful image, the infant is laid in the arms of his grandmother Naomi who nurses the child. Out of death has come new life.

One more thing. Obed will become the grandfather of David, the greatest king of Israel, whose beginnings can be traced to the faithful actions of his Moabite great-grandmother, Ruth.

There are two underlying narratives going on here. Most importantly, there is the quiet presence of God, working in the background. I'll get back to that in a moment. But there is also an underlying political narrative here.

Many scholars believe that this story was written with some proximity to the days of Ezra and Nehemiah, when the exiles were returning to rebuild Jerusalem. Nehemiah pursued a policy of ethnic cleansing, banning inter-marriage between Jews and non-Jews, and breaking apart the families that had already inter-married, sending away the foreign spouses to their countries of origin, Moabites and others. Some believe that the book about Ruth the Moabite was written as protest literature to counter the policies of Ezra and Nehemiah. Others suggest that this story has a message for our time when migration and immigration have become a contentious issue. The senior pastor of Wellesley Congregational Church, Martin Copenhaver suggests a maxim for this story, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained the great-grandmother of a king."

I'm particularly drawn to this story as a metaphor for the quiet presence and work of God. In this narrative, God is quietly in the background. The focus is on the women and Boaz and their choices. God never directly intervenes. But God's hand is behind the plot. While mentioned only in passing, God is the glue in this story.

God is present in all corners of life. There is no place where God's work is not in process: in the loss of livelihood and the fate of transient immigrants; in the journey into a strange place and the putting down of new roots; as young children grow up and marry; in joy and tragedy; as death claims some and as wise planning seeks a survival plan; in deep loyalty and love; through risks in the field and self-interest in the courts; something new is born. "The wily wisdom of the old woman and the courage of the young combine with the generous heart of an older man; ...an old and broken heart is healed. Tenacious faith in God proves trustworthy.

"God works every day. God labors on the ground, in the heart, among the folk, and through life circumstances. God weaves simple gestures, feelings, decisions, and actions in ways that bring good things. All this arises despite loss and trouble, opposition and tyranny, displacement and pain. That is huge. It shakes the powerful... It elevates the tender and dirt-real lives of the many." (G. Malcolm Sinclair)

God is at work in Ruth, the poor, childless foreigner. By now that shouldn't be surprising to us. It is a major biblical theme that God works through the most unlikely people – outsiders, strangers, and outcasts. And even through you and me.

God, unseen but never absent; the glue of life, full of surprises and keeper of ultimate promises.

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Acknowledgment: Much thanks for the help I got for this sermon from the WJK series, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 2009. This week's commentaries were written by Marcia Mount Shoop, Martin B. Copenhaver, Frank M. Yamada, and G. Malcolm Sinclair. Many of the ideas and phrases for this sermon come from this fine resource.
__________________________________________________________

The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission,
please contact us at

P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373
More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org
Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org