Epiphany Series Week 2: Promise Keeping

This sermon continues our series on Living into Community.  Last week we discussed the practice of gratitude, this week we discussed promise-keeping, and this Sunday we will talk about truth-telling.  Here is my draft of the sermon that I delivered on Sunday on promise-keeping.  I emphasize that it is a DRAFT, and I have no idea what I actually said on Sunday morning because I simply spoke what I remembered from my notes!  

         I have an obsession with Les Miserables.  And with good reason: My Grandpa (who we all called Pop-pop) was also obsessed, so this obsession runs in the family – it’s in my genes. Pop-pop loved the story so much, that the man actually learned French just so that he could read Hugo’s writing in its original form… after, of course, he had already read every English translation besides.  

And when I was about 7 years old, Pop-pop found this abandoned puppy in the woods whom he adopted.  So guess what he named her?  For those of you who know the story: can anyone name an orphan found wandering in the woods who is adopted?  That’s right, Cossette.  He loved that smelly little mutt Cossette; she was the joy of his old age and he spoiled her like a princess. 

Yes, Pop-pop was a devout man, but at the end of his life, I bet you he had spent more time reading Les Miserables than the Bible. 

         I too have always loved Les Miserables, but for me it’s been the musical setting of it that echoed in my heart the most.  I don’t know if you’ve gotten the chance to read this fantastic book or see the musical, but when I saw the musical in the theatres a few weeks ago, it struck me that Les Miserables is a collection of stories about promises, and that Jean Valjean is at his core, the promise-keeper.  And it all begins with a covenant of Christian love that completely turns Jean Valjean’s life around.

         If you don’t know the story, I’ll give you a little background; the ex-convict Jean Valjean is released from a 19^th century French prison after serving 19 years of hard labor for stealing a single loaf of bread, and for his subsequent attempts to escape.  Upon being released, no one is willing to give Valjean shelter or employment because his papers identify him as an ex-convict.   Desperate, Valjean knocks on the door of the village bishop.  The bishop is the first person in years to treat Valjean with kindness, giving him food and shelter, but hardened by years of injustice and fear, Valjean flees in the night stealing the bishop’s silverware.  

When the police arrest Valjean, they drag him back to the bishop, but in a surprising twist, the bishop covers for Valjean, telling the police that the silverware was a gift.  Then, he turns to Valjean, and handing him his most precious treasure of all, the silver candlesticks, he asks why Valjean forgot to take them also.  Valjean doesn’t know what to say, and after the police have left, the bishop forges a life-changing covenant between Valjean and God, singing in the musical:

        

But remember this my brother

See in this a higher plan

You must use this precious silver

To become an honest man

By the witness of the martyrs

By the Passion and the Blood

God has raised you out of darkness

I have bought your soul for God!

I have bought your soul for God.

This is the covenant, this is bargain, where the bishop changes the course of Valjean’s sad life.  And for the rest of his days, Valjean becomes an honest man; a man of his word.  God’s promises give Valjean hope and strength, and in turn, Valjean makes good his promises: promises to live an honorable life, to take care of his factory workers and townspeople, to raise Fantine’s child in love, to protect Cossette’s love Marius, and even to turn himself in to Javert.  Valjean is the promise-keeper.

Promises, and keeping one’s word, are marks of integrity that often seem to me to have lost some weight in our modern culture – this culture of choice and independence -- but I tell you these virtues are alive and well in this Church.

Everyone here today has made many promises in our lives, and broken some too.  Some of these promises are small, like, I’ll be there at 9:30 to rehearse with the choir, or I’ll return your book when I’m done.  Some of these promises are bigger and more life-changing, like this one that many of us have made: I promise to love, honor, and cherish you, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, as long as we both shall live.

Promises, whether big or small, are the very fibers that hold communities and relationships together.  Central Congregational Church could not survive without your promise-making and your promise-keeping.  We’re all here today, in this very sanctuary, because of promises we’ve made.  Perhaps you promised your friends or family you’d be here, perhaps you promised yourself or God to tend to your spiritual life, or perhaps you promised to contribute your help in some way this morning.  Whatever promise brought you here this morning, no matter how big or small, you are sitting here because you are fulfilling a promise.

And when people formally become members of this church, they stand up and make a covenant with God and with this church family.  When you became a member or were confirmed, you might remember the minister asking you this: 

Do you promise to participate in the life and mission of this family of God’s people,

Sharing regularly in the worship of God

And helping with the work of

Central Congregational Church

As it serves this community

And the world?

And if you’re a member here, you said, “I do.”

This community runs on promises – your promises.  A couple of months ago, our stewardship committee promised to lead us in the best stewardship campaign yet, and they delivered.  In turn, you promised your financial support, reaching our goal of $200,000 so that this church might increase our ministries and plan an even brighter year than before.  And soon we be conducting a time and talent campaign, and again we will ask again for your promises as coworkers in this community.  In a smaller church like ours, we need everyone to make promises. 

An uncommon number of you already make and keep significant promises to this community.  Last year Rev. Ng made a spreadsheet of member involvement, listing each church member’s names and ways in which you gave you time and talent.  When the spreadsheet was done, we realized that almost every single one of you are already are making and keeping promises to volunteer in significant ways to this community – whether it be your commitment to lay reading, coffee hour, team membership and leadership, teaching Sunday School, singing or ringing in our choirs, ushering, prayer shawls, working with sound, Stephen Ministries, Deacons, MAT, helping with property, managing the finances, or any of the many other jobs that keep this church running.  It is no exaggeration to say that without you making and then keeping these promises big and small, this family would collapse. 

         And there are other deeper covenental promises that we have made, and that we keep, that continue to bind us together in love as a covenant community.  These promises are just as important as our promises of time, talent, and treasure for the wellbeing of our community.  These promises are to love and support each other, especially in the darkest of hours of our lives. 

Promises to extend grace, even to those whom we disagree. 

Promises to stay at the table and listen in love, even when the conversations get tough. 

Promises to not pack up and leave

or withdraw our financial support

when our displeasure tempts us. 

Promises to hold up this family in our words and prayers,

refraining from poisonous gossip and grumbling,

even when we invariably see human imperfections,

And even when things don’t play out just the way we would have them. 

We promise,

we covenant,

we commit,

to live into Christ’s high call to a covenantal community

filled with love and grace.

         But it’s hard.  This covenantal way of life isn’t easy.  The easy route would be for you to join a megachurch, or no church at all.  Large churches and televised services allow people to simply show up or flip on the TV Sunday mornings,

receive the message,

and anonymously slip out after the postlude.  

In many of these churches, programs and ministries are products which one can choose to consume that their convenience.  

Large staff efficiently take care of all the Kingdom work for you.  

You’ll never be asked to make promises, such as: could you make the member nametags, fold the bulletins, or change the church sign.  

And in these large churches, no one bothers you with a call if you don’t show up for a few Sundays.

Then again, no one bothers to call you if you don’t show up for a few Sundays.  And at the end of a horrible week, you show up to a stadium of strangers.  Sure, in these churches it can be easy because no one expects you to make any promises, but it’s also hard because no one really needs you or your promises of time, talent or treasure. 

Still the easiest route is to join the growing number of Americans who identify as Christian but don’t attend church at all.  But  I wonder how these people really understand what it is to be a Christian.  Because to me, being a Christian means being someone who belongs to the community of Christ.

But you haven't chosen that life.  No, you chose the path of covenantal community.  Because you know that this life we live together is a more powerful teacher of the gospel than any sermon ever preached.  You know that we belong together, that Christ appears in the space between us when we gather together in his name.  You have heard Christ speaking to you through the words of a Christian brother or  sister.  You have experienced the truth that God grows us through the Body of Christ.

The scripture reading today underlines a sharp edge of promising.  One son vows to work, and doesn’t.  One son doesn’t vow, but his conscious drives him out to work.  To maintain relationships, often too might be tempted to say yes when we mean no.  But failure to fulfill a promise – either big or small -- in a community or relationship tears at the strong fibers that hold us together.  It is better to not promise at all.  The friend who is repeatedly late to get-togethers sends a message about the importance of the friendship.  The wife who lies about her feelings creates distrust in a marriage.  Promise-making and promise-keeping are central to relationships and to community, but whether they are big or small, they should never be made lightly.

What are the promises and covenantal relationships in your life?  Have you ever promised yes, when you needed to say no?  Or is there perhaps more room for promises in your life, but you prefer the freedom of choice and dislike the binds of commitment?  Because it has been said that if you have promises you always keep, a people you will never forsake, and causes you cannot abandon, then you are like God.

         

Epiphany series 1 -- Grace and Truth

During this Epiphany season, we again focus on a way in which God is revealed to us -- as God was revealed a human baby born in Bethlehem. This year, we focus on how God is revealed in community -- particularly our faith community. Our Epiphany worship series is based on the book Living into Community, by Christine Pohl. Each week for the next four weeks we will post the message given in worship on four spiritual practices -- gratitude, promise-keeping, truth-telling, and hospitality -- that sustain and support community.

Grace and Truth (Living into Community 1: Gratitude)
(1 Thess. 5:12-28) -- Rev. Christine Ng

There’s an old story, but I’ve always liked it. An atheist was walking through the forest, admiring the beauty of nature. He heard a slight rustling in the bushes behind him. Turning to look, he saw a seven-foot grizzly bear lumbering towards him. In a panic, the man ran as fast as he could. But, of course, his running caught the bear’s attention, and the bear ran after him.
The man looked over his shoulder; the grizzly was closing in on him. His heart pounding, he tried to run faster but tripped and fell to the ground. He rolled over to find the bear was standing over him.
“O my God!” cried the atheist.
Time stopped. The bear froze. The forest was silent.
A bright line shone on the man, and a voice said, “I thought you didn’t believe in me? Have you changed your mind?”
The atheist said, “Well, I could be hallucinating. I’m sure there is a rational, scientific explanation for all this. But, if you do have that power, perhaps you could make the bear a Christian?”
“No problem,” said the voice, “she already knows she is one of my children.”
The light went out. The sounds of the forest resumed. The bear spoke, and the man found that miraculously he could understand, as the bear said: “Lord, for this food which I am about to receive, I am truly thankful. Amen.”
What I like about this story, though a little violent in a National Geographic kind of way, is its underlying assumption that to be a Christian is to be thankful.
Most of us do well with the occasional expressions of gratitude to God or to others. We give thanks for our health, our own daily food, for our families, and for unexpected gifts and blessings. This is all good and necessary. But the idea of gratitude as a spiritual practice goes beyond the occasional “thank you” to God or others. This is gratitude as a way of life – not merely an act or an attitude but an identity – what it means to be Christian.
This is important for us as individuals. But when we are talking about spiritual practices of a Christian community – what it means to be a Christian community – there is even more at stake. The character of our shared life – as congregations and communities – has the power to draw people to the kingdom and worship of God – or to push them away. And because we as a community are the embodiment of Christ, the expectations, like the stakes, are very high.
“The Word who became flesh and lived among us – full of grace and truth – expects that our relationships with one another will be also be characterized by grace and truth.”
But because we are also human, this takes practice, practice, practice. These spiritual practices are what grace and truth look like when embodied in community.
        And let’s begin with grace. The word “gratitude” comes from the Latin word for “grace.” Similarly, in Greek, the language in which the New Testament, including Paul’s letters, was originally written – in Greek the word for “grace” has the same root as the word for “thankfulness” or “gratitude.” This reflects an ancient understanding of the tie between the two.
        The spiritual practice of gratitude, gratitude as a way of life – begins with paying attention. When our lives are shaped by gratitude, we’re more likely to notice the goodness and beauty in everyday things – to catch the small glimpses of grace that happen all the time. And as we notice, we find more reasons to be thankful.
         But gratitude and grace are tied together in another way as well – forgiveness. As the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ testifies to us, we are children of a loving and forgiving God. When we fully accept, when we know in the depths of our hearts the grace we’ve received and continue to receive from God, know we are forgiven, we are able to turn outward in gratitude and generosity. We can then give what we have been given – love, forgiveness – grace.
          It’s God’s forgiveness of our imperfect humanity and our forgiveness of the imperfect humanity of others that makes community work. As someone once wrote: “the way you grow into God’s love  . . . is by giving each other grace.” [Chris Rice, quoted in Living in Community]
When gratitude fills our lives and communities, it spills over into celebration, into joy. “We’re not joyful and then become grateful – we’re grateful and that makes us joyful.” [Brennan Manning] This is what Paul was talking about when he wrote:  “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” After all, constant rejoicing and regular thanksgiving are themselves perpetual prayer -- recognizing that "God is good -- all the time."
         This is not polyanna faith. Living with gratitude doesn’t mean we don’t see problems or injustice or suffering. Nor is the practice of gratitude meant to beat the heartache or grief out of people – you know, as in “you should just be grateful for what you have.” That’s religious practice misused.
Instead, gratitude as a way of life is knowing that God is faithful, as Paul said. Knowing that despite whatever hardship or sorrow we may encounter, we are held secure by a loving God. If a life of gratitude is our identity, then death, destruction and despair cannot define us, cannot have the last word. So gratitude is about love, but it is also about hope – and can give strength for the long journey towards wholeness and justice. In the words of Dr. King, whose birthday we celebrate this weekend: “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great burden to bear.”
         People who practice gratitude, people of grace, speak the truth – but such words spoken in an atmosphere of grace and love are less threatening, and even more important. The church is meant to be such a place of grace. As we practice gratitude, give each other grace in our lives together and help each other see the grace that has been present in our lives, even when we haven’t noticed it – then the body of Christ is strengthened for it’s own journey toward wholeness – both within and outside our doors. The gospel shines through. God’s grace is revealed.
         But the reverse is also true. While gratitude gives life to communities, ingratitude expressed through things like grumbling and complaint sucks our everything good, until the community’s life is gone, it’s spirit is quenched – to use Paul’s phrase.
        We liken church to a family – and so it is. But it’s not some pie in the sky “perfect family” where everyone always gets along and does all their chores on time. No. It’s a real family – and that’s who Paul was talking to in his letter. He didn’t use the popular term “dysfunctional,” but he certainly knew the danger of family members abusing or ignoring their responsibilities toward one another.
        When we long for some ideal of church or family, it’s easy to grow increasingly dissatisfied with what we have. It’s easy to complain and grumble about our families, our communities, our congregations – there is always something wrong. We’re human. It’s like a version of the old joke: “I don’t believe in organized religion.” “Neither do I. I belong to the UCC.”
Gratitude and ingratitude are closely tied to what we notice, and once we start focusing on flaws in the community they quickly dominate our attention. While gratitude makes us more sensitive to the gifts that other people bring into our lives, discontent blinds us to what we’ve been given.
         For example, Tony Campolo tells the story of finding and reading the annual church report for the year in which he was baptized in that church. Three nine-year old boys were baptized that year. One was Tony, who grew up to become a well-known Christian sociologist and writer. Another became a missionary, and the third became a professor of theology. That’s a pretty good track record for that small Philadelphia church. But the people of the church didn’t celebrate what they had been given, they only saw the lack. The report read: “It has not been a good year for our church. We have lost 27 members. Three joined, and they were only children.” Cynics might call it spin – I think it’s the practice of gratitude – seeing the gift. Not surprisingly, soon after that the church sold it’s building and the church disbanded.
        In addition to the inability to see and appreciate the gifts all around, perhaps the saddest result of ingratitude is the tendency to trample fragile expressions of beauty and goodness. This is particularly toxic to community.
         I read a story about a woman planting trees at a local park. The trees were donated by people in memory of loved ones. When she had planted 23 trees without any help, another woman came up to her and said, “Remember the tree you planted for me yesterday?” The woman nodded. “You planted it too close to the road. It needs to be moved.” And with that, the other woman left. Maybe she was distracted, or had a bad day, but still – of the 23 trees planted only two people remembered to say “thank you.”
         The church functions because of the work of many people. Indeed, in a small church like ours every one needs to contribute in some way. To practice gratitude as a way of community life, we need to appreciate the gifts of all who share their time, talent, or treasure for the community, and for God. And it’s everyone’s responsibility to say “thank you,” for being part of this community, and thank you for all you do. We need to accept those gifts as the gifts from God that they are – big or small.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer asks, “How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?” Every gift matters, because it’s not about the size of the gift, it’s about the Giver, about love, and grace, and relationship. Perhaps this is why Paul in his letter advises the Thessalonians to “respect those who labor among you,” to “esteem them very highly in love because of their work,” and to “be patient with all.”
         Writing about what he learned studying another faith community, Chris Rice wrote: “It is enough to get the love of God into your bones and to live as if you are forgiven. It is enough to care for each other, forgive each other, and to wash the dishes.” Grace and truth indeed. Amen.