People of The[ir] Word

Matthew 5:20-37

Ordinary Time 6A

February 12, 2017

Fondren Presbyterian Church

The Rev. Dr. Robert Wm Lowry

            Our text from Matthew today is from the Sermon on the Mount.

            I am going to go out on a limb and guess that you may not have known that after all the lyrical language of the “blessed are they…” formulations and the affirming metaphors of salt and light, Jesus, in the very same sermon, moves on to murder, adultery, and lying. Jesus must have skipped that day in preaching class when Dr. Black-Johnston warned that we needed to keep in mind the weariness of our listeners.

            Blessed are the weak, you are the salt of the earth and the light of the world, and oh by the way,…

            The word radical is probably not one most of us associate with this text.  That blessed are the peacemakers bit, that was radical stuff, but this whole adultery in your heart thing feels a little…fundamentalist!

            At first glance it seems that what Jesus does here is take the law- that register of commandments on how to order spiritual and worldly living- and make it even more difficult to hold.  The law that was already strict becomes entirely inflexible.  When I think of the radical message of the gospel, I think of Dr. King on the Mall in Washington or Dorothy Day’s non-violence in the face of power or tens of thousands of Christians marching alongside their neighbors in protest of political policies that target the beliefs of people they have never met. 

            What I don’t think of is taking legalisms and making them more legalistic and less forgiving and, if I am honest, at first glance that is what it seems like Jesus is doing here.  The one who calls us to radical hospitality and radical love has become a purveyor of fundamentalist moralistic judgment.

            At first glance it seems that way.

            And if anyone else was doing the talking here, it might be reasonable to understand this text that way. 

            But this is not some politician trying to score cheap points or a preacher trying to scare their flock into submissive obedience to their interpretation of God’s own law.  This is God incarnate; this is joy of heaven to earth come down; this is wonderful, counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace speaking and if we are to hear the truth in the words we must keep in mind the truth of the speaker.

            Two of my friends in Little Rock build pipe organs.  They have built them all over the world from small country churches to some of the largest cathedrals in Europe.  Each instrument, they say, has its own voice.  You can play the same piece of music on two different instruments and there will be subtle differences because each one has its own unique voice. 

            Nothing less is true about Jesus so how do we hear these words in HIS voice?

            How do we hear them in the voice of the one who is in fact a bearer of radical Good News?

            The root of the word radical is the Latin radix which means root or in some circumstances foundation.  The radix is what lingers below to give strength and stability to what is above.  If you ever visit the 9/11 memorial in NYC, you go into the basement to what is known as the bathtub.  There you see the enormous concrete footings with tiebacks holding them steady and keeping the seeping waters of the Hudson River at bay.  That radix-that foundation- is all that is left of the shimmering pillars of glass and steel that once towered over lower Manhattan.[i]  

            So what is Jesus the radical- Jesus the one who presses us toward the foundations of our faith- doing here in this odd and off-putting exegesis of the law?

            He is radicalizing it.  Jesus is radicalizing the law.  At least he is radicalizing it in so much as he is pressing us to look past the words and into the foundational spirit of God’s law.  Jesus wants us to get beneath the surface and see what is down below, out of sight, yet essential to holding our world of faith upright.

            From the outside looking in, it seems as thought what Jesus does here is tighten the vice of the law and make it even more difficult- in fact impossible- to keep.  But seen from the radix- from the view not outside but deep within- we find that what Jesus is doing here is not tightening the grip of the law but sharpening our understanding of it.

            “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.”

            The words of the law are about murder but the foundation of that law- the radix that Jesus the radical calls to our attention- is not merely about not taking a life.  It is about the way we live together.  The law forbids the most egregious end to our anger, but it is the anger itself that God wants us to deal with. 

            “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ ²⁸But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” 

            The words of the law are about adultery but the radix of that law is about our failure to see the other as more than the potential solutions to a momentary need.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’  But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King.”

The words of the law are about not lying when under an oath to God, but the radix of that law is about the need to enter every relationship, large or small, with integrity and honesty. 

Far from reducing the law of God to a reactionary literalistic moralistic code up to which none of us can ever begin to live, Jesus the radical takes us to the radix- the foundation of all law…the ordering of our relationships.

And that, more than any possible checklist of do’s and don’ts, is at the heart of God’s law. 

Still, even that feels out of reach.  Not only do we need to guard against breaking the letter of the law but also the unintended consequences of walking down the road toward breaking it; not just taking another’s life but devaluing it; not just breaking our covenant vow but reducing another person to an object of momentary desire; not just refraining from lying but refraining from thinking of another as unworthy of our truth.

The purpose of the law is human flourishing and that cannot happen as long as we manipulate, objectify, or scorn our neighbor.

Jesus calls us in this text to really do some deep self-examination and soul searching about our own relationships.

I heard one preacher reflecting on this text who said that after pondering these three admonitions from Jesus he thought to himself, “well, two our of three ain’t bad.” 

He never told us which was the third one.  Though I think I have a clue.

The first command Jesus draws us into considering is the prohibition on killing and with it this call to resist living with such anger that we simply disregard our neighbor.  I would wager to say that there have been times in all of our lives when we have let our anger or frustration with someone get the better of us and, in my life at least, I have murdered more than one personal relationship with my inability to get past my anger.

Still, though I sin and fall far short of the glory of God, I feel like I am at least on the right track with this one.

That’s one.

The second command Jesus draws us into considering is the prohibition on adultery.  Easily reduced to a law solely about marital fidelity, this commandment is also much more.  In Jesus time, marriage was the most common personal relationship shared by his audience.  It’s demands and traditions were well known and in it Jesus saw an opportunity to underscore God’s provision and care for all of God’s children.  It is about covenantal relationships in whatever form they take. 

Anytime we see in the other a means to an end rather than an end in itself, we diminish that person and fail in our covenant relationship with our neighbors.  As surely as if we had broken a marital vow, when we break the command to love neighbor AS self we have broken God’s command.

Any well-examined life will reveal times when we have failed to value our neighbors as ourselves.  I like to think that as I get older and learn from my failures in life, I have grown more toward obedience to this law rather than away from it.  So hopefully on the right track here too.

That’s two.

The third command Jesus draws into considering is the prohibition on swearing falsely.  Listen again to what Jesus says:

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’  But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King.  And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black.  Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

Jesus’s first two trips into the radix of the laws reveals a need to be even more attentive to the spirit of each one.  Here, however, Jesus takes a different turn.

“Do not swear at all.”

You heard that right.

“Do not swear at all.”

It is tempting to hear in this final exhortation on the law as a repudiation of it. 

Wishful thinking.

There is no way that Jesus, whose character we have come to know through his teaching and speaking and centuries of faithful encounter through the church would have said, “don’t worry about that whole not lying thing.  Lie away, truth be damned!”

What Jesus does here is not excuse us from swearing in God’s name truthfully, but remind us that swearing in God’s name at all is a mistake.  Not because God’s name is not worthy of our truth, but because our truth is never full enough to bear God’s name.

Or heaven’s name.

Or even Jerusalem’s name.

And to say otherwise, to pretend that we are in possession of a truth so fulsome that it might bear the name of God, is the doorway to hypocrisy and we all know how Jesus felt about hypocrites!

When Jesus tells us, “do not swear at all,” he reminds us that however confident we are in our truth, however fulsome we are in our beliefs, however convinced we are that we are right and they are wrong, we still see through the glass dimly, we still fall short of the glory of God, and none of us ever poses the fullness of God’s truth. 

Like the wise preacher said, two out of three ain’t bad!

I like to think that my confidence in my own understanding of what is right and what is true leaves room for the possibility that I am mistaken or misguided. 

I like to think that, but then I get on Facebook and see a post from someone whose shared opinion hits me like a personal affront.

Or I turn on the news and I see my government doing things in my name that I cannot conceive how anyone thought it to be an idea worthy of a great nation.

I get myself worked up into a real lather of frustration with these otherwise bright people who say and believe such foolish things, who are so wrong headed, who see the world through these bizarre glasses.

I might be wrong, but I KNOW they are wrong!

Really, I do.  I KNOW it.

I am positive that my point of view is right.

Truly.

Just read the bible!

Just look at the words of Jesus!

I am not perfect, but I think I am on safe ground saying that on some of these current issues I am right and they are wrong.  I am not a little sure of it I am positive.

Really.

It is the truth.

I swear to God…

Oops…

As we continue to live into this season of discord and disagreement in our culture, it is perhaps more important than ever to remember that the truth is not something we can monogram and call exclusively our own. 

Truth in its fullest sense belongs to God. 

And so do those with whom we disagree. 

And just as it is essential that we as disciples of Christ stand up for what we believe including the dignity and promise of all God’s children, we must live that belief even with those children of God in whom we struggle to see dignity or promise.

 In our text last week, Jesus said that he did not come to abolish the law but to see its fulfillment.  He links his ministry to the gift of the law the foundation of which is at the heart of his ministry; the building and bettering of human relationships and communities and the proclamation of hope in the kingdom of God. 

In the coming days, I hope that we will all seek to see our world and especially our neighbors through the lens of the radix of the law.  That we will seek out those places where our relationships may be repaired or rebuilt.  That we will remember each and every day that the truth of Christ is not ours to posses but ours to proclaim…

…with love, fidelity, and compassion for ALL of God’s children. 

Let us pray.

Giving Lord, you build our lives on the roots of your promise.  Fill our hearts and our lives to overflowing with the hope and love of Christ.  May we see in each of your children the value, dignity, and love you see in all your creation.  Give us hearts of generosity, spirits of gentleness, and the courage to share your truth in a sinful and broken world. Amen.

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[i] Dr. Scott Hoezee at Calvin Theological Seminary made this great connection.

Be All That You Already Are

Matthew 5:13-20

Ordinary Time 5A

February 5, 2017

Fondren Presbyterian Church

The Rev. Dr. Robert Wm Lowry

            Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth.”

            Psychological research tells us that for every negative message elementary aged children hear about themselves, they need to hear ten affirmations to balance the scales.  For every one step back, it takes ten steps to get all the way back forward.  I would wager to say that through out lives that ratio never really gets any lower. 

            Put another way, we often become what we are named.  Call a child (or a teenager or an adult for that matter) bad often enough and he or she will become convinced that they are in fact bad.  We live into the name we are given by the world around us.  Dale Carnegie called this giving a person a fine reputation to live up to, or, in some cases down to.[i] 

            So it is no small thing when Jesus tells his disciples that they are “the salt of the earth.”

            Now, to our contemporary ears this is not earth shattering complementary language.  I mean when was the last time someone called you salty and meant it as a complement?  And even beyond the implications of inappropriateness of salty language, salt is the big bad boogey man lurking in the dark just waiting to pounce and give you hypertension!

            Like so much of the biblical narrative, we have to leave aside our linguistic biases and hear these ancient words with ancient ears. 

            Salt in first century Palestine was as essential as the air we breathe and the water we drink. 

            For starters, we all need salt to survive.  Salt is such an elemental part of our survival that it is the only mineral we take from the earth and consume just the way we find it.  While too much salt can certainly cause us problems, without at least some, we cannot survive. 

            In addition to keeping us healthy, salt helps prevent us from getting sick.  Before the aisles of Best Buy were lined with refrigerators with not only icemakers and water dispensers but also televisions built into them, salt was how you kept food from spoiling.  Without it meat and fish would rot in the desert sun.

Salt was how you exsanguinated meat to make it kosher. 

It was so central to life that it was described in the Levitical texts as one of the appropriate offerings to God.

Entire roads were built to promote its trade and wars were fought to control its supply.

Salt was everything.

Salt was everywhere.

Salt was essential to the life of the world.

So when Jesus tells the disciples that they are the salt of the earth, what he is in fact telling them is that they are the essential element to the life of the world.

When Harry Truman was sworn in as President he said that he felt like the moon, the stars, and all the planets had fallen on him. 

My guess is that the disciples felt something like that when Jesus said to them, “you are the salt of the earth.” 

It is tempting when we read this text to reduce Jesus’ words to a command- “Go out into the world and become salt!”  But what we have here is not a commandment.  It is a commendation.  Jesus is describing something about the disciples that is already true. 

            They ARE the salt of the earth.  There is no merit badge to be earned or award to be won here. It is already entirely true in them.

And what Jesus said to and about them, he says to and about us.  We who claim to be disciples of Jesus Christ are as much the audience today in Jackson, Mississippi as they were that day in ancient Palestine. 

We are not almost salt, we are not working toward saltiness, we are not making our way toward some great salty tomorrow, we are, here and now, in this moment and in this place, the salt of the earth.  We ARE the salt of the earth because like those followers who heard these words first hand, we are fool-hearty enough to answer the call of discipleship- to bind ourselves to the one called Christ.

We too are the salt of the earth.

In addition to all of the life giving and life enriching things salt is used for, when used thoughtfully it also sharpens and refines tastes and aromas, transforms bland flavors into something complex and wonderful, and provides what Episcopal Priest and NYT food writer Robert Farrar Capon called the “music of cookery, the indispensible bass line over which all tastes and smells make their harmony.”

Of course to get this enhancing effect for the senses, or any of the other benefits salt provides you have to use it. 

Garrison Keillor quipped that sitting in church doesn’t make you a Christian anymore than sitting in your garage makes you a Cadillac.  The same is true of salt in the kitchen. Simply putting a box of kosher salt next to the stove will not flavor the soup.  You have to mix it in to get the desired effect. 

Did you add any salt to this soup?

No, but I had a box next to the stove!

That’s an absurd thought, but something like that seems to have been on Jesus’ mind because right after he tells the disciples that they are the salt of the earth he says, “but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

This is one of those places where our English translations are not much help.  The Greek text translated here as “salt losing its taste” is halas moranthe which literally translates as “salt becoming made foolish.”[ii]

Instead of the salt losing its taste, Jesus warns us about the salt losing its mind!  Salt has a definite purpose and if you won’t use it for that purpose then the salt becomes foolish to have around.  If you aren’t going to put it in the food, why have it in the kitchen?

Salt, this essential element to the life of the world is only useful when it is used; when it is mixed in with the things of the world- combined with our bodies to give health and our food to give flavor.  If it isn’t used, what in the world good is it?

The same, Jesus seems to say, is true about us. 

What good are disciples who just stand by and watch the world?

We exist for mixing it up in the world.  To do our work, we have to mix ourselves into the culture, the people, the events, and the life of the world.  To be of use to the gospel, we have to be mixed beyond these walls bringing the flavor and complexity and depth of the gospel.

Disciples who never let their discipleship leave the church are as useless as salt that never leaves the box.

I did not realize that this was the lectionary text when I worked out with the search committee when I would start my call.  It wasn’t until after the dates were set and I started to do some worship planning that I realized that this incredibly appropriate text was the gospel lesson for today.  It is appropriate because of all the things I learned about this church and its history and its people; of all the conversations I had with the PNC and the presbytery and Van; of all the threads and themes that came out in the whole call process, the one that kept me coming back; the one that convinced me that this was the place I was called to do ministry was a sense that this is a church that wants to be the salt of the earth.  This is a church that has a history of getting out of the box and into the soup; that wants to share the hope and grace of the gospel in Jackson and beyond; to mix it up and add a little flavor to the world.

After all, isn’t that why we are here? 

Isn’t that why we come to this place and worship this God and pledge ourselves to be Disciples of Christ?  Don’t we do it because we see all around us a world in need of some gospel salt?! 

A world where injustice goes unnoticed and inequity unopposed;

prejudice is tolerated and hate is normalized;

greed is glorified and corruption is accepted;

a world where the poor are blamed for their poverty;

the oppressed for their oppression;

the starving for their hunger;

and the least among us are given the least regard.

That is the world Christ sees and that is the world God longs to see made right.  And that is why Christ sends us out into that world to BE salt; to be the stuff of hope and promise in this broken and pleading world; Christ calls us from our daily living to the eternal work of the kingdom right here and right now because we ARE the salt of the earth and for the world.

…and that is where the metaphor begins to break down.

When you mix actual salt into the soup the sodium chloride stays sodium chloride.  The chemical composition of the salt doesn’t change, but the same cannot be said for our faith.

Salt doesn’t get tired.

We do.

Salt doesn’t get spiritually drained.

We do.

Salt doesn’t lose heart.

But, all to often, we do.

We’ve all heard that voice; that insipid whisper that comes to us in those moments of exhaustion when there are four appointments, three carpools, and a church supper all vying for the same narrow place on the calendar.  It is the whisper that says to our spirits, “Just let it be.  It isn’t that bad the way it is.  You have enough to do as it is so quit going against the grain and just let it go.  The soup is fine.”

Jesus knew that voice of temptation; the temptation to throw up our hands and leave the whole mess to God to sort out.  I think that is why Jesus does not leave it alone with this first metaphor, salt.  After saying, “you are the salt of the earth,” he goes on to say, “You are the light of the world.”  Not only are disciples salt, we are light.

Light was a familiar motif to Jesus’ hearers and, unlike salt, it is a metaphor that endures today almost unchanged.  Light still holds much of the same meaning as it did in Jesus’ time; light is revealing, it is illuminating, it is truth.  Light was and is all those things in our hearing, but it is also one more thing when spoken of in light of the gospel; it is inexhaustible. 

Remember the words from John’s gospel, “the light was the light of the world shining in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.”

Even when we become exhausted in our saltiness, our light is never overcome; it never runs out; it, like the grace and hope of the one who sends us, is inexhaustible and like the moon reflects the light of the sun in the darkest night, we who live in the light of Christ bear that light into the world.

We are salt and we are light and, friends, we live in a world that needs both.  It is a world that needs both desperately and we who would call ourselves disciples are charged with the blessing of bearing these things beyond the safety of these walls and into that world. 

We are the salt that flavors the soup and we are the light that shines in the darkness.  That is what it means to be the church of Jesus Christ in the world.

May we all live this and every day being all that we already are in Christ; salt, light, and blessing in all too often bland, dark, and desperate world.

Let us pray.

God of inexhaustible grace, you have called us to be salt and to be light.  In the midst of our busy and bustling lives, give us insight to those moments when we may share these gifts and with them the love, grace, and hope of Christ.  Make us salt and make us light just as in this and every day, you make us yours.  Amen.

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[i] This idea of becoming what we are named was thematic in a presentation by Dr. David Lose of Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia.  I neglected to record the date or the name of the conference in my notes.  Nonetheless, the attribution for this helpful insight belongs to him.

[ii] This insight to translation for vs. 13 comes from Dr. Scott Hoezee at Calvin Theological Seminary. 

Living in the Wake of the World: A Sermon Following the Election of Donald Trump

Living in the Wake of the World

Isaiah 65:17-25 Luke 21:5-19

Ordinary 33 Year C

Sunday following the Federal General Election

November 13, 2016

First Presbyterian Church Batesville, AR

The Rev. Dr. Robert Wm Lowry

            I remember what happened right before and I remember thinking, how did I wind up in the water, but what happened between seeing my friend Ann trip and finding myself bobbing in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico watching the boat mercifully turn back to pick me up is a bit of a blur.  Somehow when I reached out to help keep her from falling I went over the back of the boat.

            You wouldn’t think it looking at the small-ish charter boat we hired for a day of fishing during Spring Break, but that little thing created a pretty intense wake as it sped away.  Coughing out the water I managed to swallow and floating with the help of my life vest, I felt the wake of the boat pull me left, right, front, back, and down all at the same time. 

            It didn’t take long for the water to settle, but in the moment that moment seemed like forever and for a second as I was spinning at the mercy of the churned up water I thought the wake might win.

            Being a disciple of Jesus must have felt a bit like that at times. 

            Whether their own encounter with the gospel had the urgency of Mark’s telling, the radical re-visioning of Matthew’s, or the narrative we have today in the midst of Luke’s theology of radical hospitality, by this point in Jesus’ ministry the disciples found themselves bobbing in the water wondering which way was up.

            Jesus, at every turn, had upended their perceptions of the world, themselves, and God.  He was as disruptive a force as any they had ever encountered.  Every time they think they have their footing, Jesus pulls from under them the preconceptions and perceptions they have of the world and leaves them spinning in his wake.

            Still, in the midst of all of Jesus’ pedagogical and theological heaving too and fro, they had the Temple.  It wasn’t going anywhere.

            The Temple was as close to eternal as the world could come.  In addition to its traditional role as the footstool of YHWH and the place where the divine of heaven came into contact with the profane of the world, that building housed the hope of the people of Israel.

            It was YHWH’s house.

            Their house.

            It was the place where the hopes and dreams and promise of generations were stored and cherished.  It was the place where each generation deposited its hopes for the next. 

            High priests and rulers would come and go, but the timber and stone of the second temple bore a sense of eternity anchored in the world. It was their sure foundation.

            So of course Jesus throws it into the roiling waters in his wake and tells them that the day will come when not one stone will stand on another and this monument to eternity and their understanding of God would come crashing down to the ground.

            Words cannot do justice to the weight of that declaration. 

            The day would come when the house of YHWH, the storehouse of their hope, the place where generations had looked with eyes fixed on eternity would come crashing down and be left nothing but a pile of rubble in the streets of Jerusalem.  To be sure, there were issues with the temple and Jesus had repeatedly shown the disciples that the emperor, or in this case the Sadducees, had no clothes as he repeatedly laid low the powers of the world.  But still, that building- that hulking edifice- was solid and sure. 

            So when Jesus tells them that the day will come when not a stone will be left on stone, their hearts must have descended to their bowels.  There really isn’t a word to capture the feelings engendered as those words of Jesus’ were hanging in the air. 

            Despair?

            Hopelessness?

            Hollowness?

            They all come close but they don’t quite capture the all-encompassing feeling of loss that would accompany the broken stones and splintered timbers of the house of YHWH.

            The closest word I have ever heard to capture that feeling is the Korean word “Han.”  Han lacks a simple translation into English because it is a word that means more than its definition.   It is a state of being rather than simply a description of a feeling.  Suh nam-Jong, a wonderful Korean theologian describes Han as:

“unresolved resentment against injustices suffered, a sense of helplessness because of the overwhelming odds against one, a feeling of acute pain in one’s guts and bowels, making the whole body writhe and squirm, and an obstinate urge to take revenge and to right the wrong- all these combined are Han.”

            The disciples, when they heard Jesus telling them of the coming destruction of the temple, must have found themselves in a posture of Han.

            In that moment swept up in the wake of the world, their moment of Han must have seemed like an eternity waiting to sweep over them and drag them to the bottom of an endless sea of heartache and despair.

            We don’t have the second temple in 21^st century America, but we do have places where we put our faith in the eternal; those places where we invest our hopes of the moment and of moments yet to come. 

It isn’t a building or even a city.

I would wager to say that when push comes to shove, our temple is the ballot box; the embodiment in the world of our democratic ideals.  The ballot box is the place where, from time to time, we tick a piece of paper and cast our hopes into the mix with those of our neighbors and pray that in the end ours will carry the day. 

We saw some measure of that hope play out on Tuesday night. 

As the election returns came in and the states were colored blue or red by the network talking heads, half of our nation were elated that their hopes for the future were triumphant while half of our nation found themselves slipping into despair. 

It would not be an hyperbole to say that for many the results of Tuesday night’s election were the doorway to a sense of Han-like despair.  Before the sun rose on this new reality, thousands had taken to the streets in protest.  For many our President-elect represents everything our sacred temple of democracy is NOT.  And with his election, the sure foundation of faith in democracy was shaken and shattered; our temple was destroyed in one fatal electoral blow.

In fairness, for many of the half who celebrated on Tuesday night, the last 8 years have, for many, seemed like a slow-motion destruction of that same temple of democracy.  For them President Obama and not President-elect Trump represents the crack in the foundation and the risk of the whole thing tumbling down.

            Either way, the foundations are being shaken and the temple of our hope seems at risk of tumbling down.  Many do not know where to turn, so we turn to the one place that makes sense; the Word of God. 

            So, sitting here in the wake of the most divisive election of most of our life times; watching as the hopes and fears of our nation collide; seeing the reverberations of the electoral aftermath shake if not shatter our temple of hope, we turn to scripture and ask, “What does Jesus have to say to us in this moment?”

WWJS- What would Jesus say?

            For some it is tempting to say, “Jesus would say that this election restored hope” and for others to proclaim “Jesus agrees that hope died on Tuesday night.”  In truth, I think what Jesus would say to us today in answer to our pleading question about the future of our temple of democracy is precisely what the disciples heard about the temple in Jerusalem, “the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

            This temple will suffer the same fate as the temple in Jerusalem.  Not because of Obama and not because of Trump, but because it is the nature of earthly things to come to an end. 

            What the disciples needed to learn was that the temple was just a building.  It could not doom their history or their hope anymore than it could hold them.  They, like we, are held eternally in one place and one place only; the loving hands of God.  So Jesus reminds us…

            there will be wars and rumors of wars;

            there will be Obamas and there will be Trumps;

            there will be temples built and temples destroyed;

            but none of these- none of them- is the end God has in store for the children of God. 

            I had to be reminded of that on Wednesday morning.  Like so many of our neighbors, I found myself paralyzed by despair over the results of this election.  Those who know me will not be shocked by that revelation about my political leanings!  I woke up hoping it had been a bad dream only to turn on my iPad, look at the Washington Post, and see that my temple had indeed been dismantled one electoral vote at a time.  The storehouse of my hopes sat in rubble with not one stone standing on another.

            A good friend and pastor who shares my political leanings (but thankfully not my sense of despair) sent me a text in reply to my message of doom, gloom, and impending relocation to Canada.  She sent me the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism:

            What is your only comfort in life and in death?

That I am not my own, but belong body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. 

My temple had not been destroyed! 

My temple died for me, rose for me, and reigns in glory for me.

My temple advocates for me at the right had of God the father almighty.

My temple is not subject to the ballot box or the Electoral College or any other

folly of the mind of humankind. 

Those 500 year-old words reminded me that neither my salvation nor yours depends on an election or a candidate.  The best candidate cannot usher in the kingdom of God and the worst cannot prevent God ushering it in. 

In body and in soul, in life and in death, we belong to Christ.

That is our hope in every moment when we find our earthly temple shaken.  It is the promise that endures through every iteration of the ups and downs that life can throw our way.

It is a promise that does not respect party or perspective;

that is held in monopoly not by the right the left or the center. 

that leads us out of despair ushering us beyond a state of Han;

that reminds us each and every day that our God of eternity is a God of hope and promise who wants nothing but what is right and good for ALL of God’s children.

It is the hope that reaches into the waters and pulls us out of the wake of the world. 

And that hope is also our charge as the people of Christ in the world. 

After 18 months of bile, vitriol, and the wholesale appealing to the least in our natures, our communities and our neighbors are hurting. 

If we are going to live into this promise as the children of God, there can be no room for the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat in elections.  There can be room only for the urgent work of hope and reconciliation for which Christ has elected us!

That is our charge today and in every day to come because that is what it means to belong body and soul to the one who gave his life so we might find ours.

It is not an easy charge, but it is truly ours.

May God bless our nation, our President-elect, and each and every disciple of Christ.  As this new era in our civic life unfolds, may we all have the courage to proclaim with tireless voices lifted to the heavens the gospel of grace, peace, and wholeness in a broken world until justice rolls like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Sola Deo Gloria!  To God alone be the glory!

Amen.