It's Hard to Believe
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
April 7, 1996
Memory Verse: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete." (John 15:11)
Today's Texts: Mark 16:1-8 and Acts 12:1-18
Opening Prayer: Gracious God, it's hard to believe the news. It challenges our assumptions and confronts our contrivances. Help us to see what eyes have not seen and to hear what ears have not heard, through the outpouring of your Spirit in worship. Amen.
For someone who's been dead for almost 2,000 years, Jesus had a big week. And I don't mean big in the theological sense of Holy Week, with all the dramatic events leading up to and following upon the heels of his crucifixion. I mean big in the contemporary sense of rising to the top of the charts.
Many of you know that I'm an avid watcher of the magazines and tabloids at the check out-counters of the grocery store. I found it rather remarkable that in the past week Jesus made the cover of not one, and not two, but three weekly news magazines. All three portrayed him as a European American male in various states of repose.
With so much attention making splashy, front-page news you would think that Jesus had come back from the dead and held a press conference with reporters. But the focus took a decidedly different turn. More than 100 years after Friedrich Nietzsche's madman proclaimed the death of God, in Thus Spake Zarathustra, the media has once again picked up the torch.
Although each magazine included rebuttal arguments from scholars on the other side of the fence, the primary focus was on the large number of scholars, represented most notably by the 75 members of The Jesus Seminar, who have dissected the New Testament into its constituent parts and found most of it to be the imaginative creation of a fledgling church in a hostile world. Sounding very much like modern proponents of the scientific method, these scholars have disallowed supernatural occurrences, uncorroborated teachings and events, and all stories which reflect the ecclesiastical conflicts of later decades.
What you end up with is a picture of the New Testament in the genre of historical fiction. These scholars give only 18% of the words ascribed to Jesus in the four gospels a claim to authenticity. The events of his life don't even fare that well. About all some of these scholars are willing to say is that he was born in Palestine around the turn of the first millennium. After a brief ministry in Galilee as a teacher, prophet, and worker of deeds that were perceived by some as miracles, he was crucified around A.D. 30. Immediately thereafter, his followers claimed that he rose from the dead.
The quest of these scholars to not only find the historical Jesus, but to widely popularize their conclusions with an almost missionary zeal, is motivated by their conviction that the New Testament witness is increasingly problematic for modern people. Not only can we see through many of its internal contradictions, but our scientific world view has reduced many of its stories, most notably the stories of Jesus' resurrection, to an intellectual burden which the Christian faith cannot long endure. These scholars hope to reinvigorate Christianity by focusing our attention on the historical Jesus rather than on the Risen Christ.
As much as I appreciate what these scholars have contributed to our understanding of Jesus and the world in which he lived, their agitation over the future of a transcendent God seems a bit premature and overblown. Ours is not the first generation, after all, which has struggled to embrace the notion of a crucified yet risen Lord. And our objections, regardless of how scientific they sound, may prove to be no more enduring than those of generations past.
As the women entered the tomb of Jesus, early on the first day the week following his crucifixion, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting beside where the body was laid; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, "Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you." So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. (Mark 16:1-8)
That's a strange way to end the story. No dramatic visions of the risen Christ. No decisive action. No living happily ever after. Just the proclamation of his resurrection, much to the fear and disbelief of the women who had come to anoint his body with spices. By their reaction, you might think these women were part of The Jesus Seminar -- enlightened skeptical thinking people who had an a priori understanding that none of this could be happening. But if you read a little further into the story, you will learn that these women were not suffering from an intellectual problem -- How could this be? They were suffering from a political problem -- What do we do now?
Go and tell his disciples that Jesus was raised from the dead? Go and tell his disciples that Jesus would meet them in Galilee? Go and tell his disciples that Jesus wasn't finished with them yet? These women had a problem alright, and it wasn't an intellectual one. No wonder they found it hard to believe. No wonder they were at once terrified and amazed. No wonder they at first said nothing to anyone.
Women had no power. Women had no place from which to speak. Women apostles, women who were sent to proclaim a message from God, were not well received in first-century Jerusalem even when they weren't bearing news about the return of a crucified Messiah. This wasn't an intellectual problem. This was an astounding, earth-shattering, life-changing word that would change anyone who believed. They had reason to be frightened. What God was asking them to do was like lightning.
This morning I want to tell you another Easter story that will be as hard to believe as the story of Jesus and the empty tomb. But that's not because this story violates the laws of nature. It's rather because this story exposes the politics of Easter and forces us to make a choice. Just who is Lord? Caesar or Jesus? And who do we choose to follow?
About that time King Herod laid violent hands upon some who belonged to the church. He had James, the brother of John, killed with the sword. After he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also. This was during the festival of Unleavened Bread.
That's really what kings do best. Violence and empire just sort of go together. There is no government, which I know of, that doesn't have a way with violence. Democracies are no less violent that non-democracies. Maybe even more so. Over 2,000 New Yorkers died last year at the hands of their fellow New Yorkers. Democracies tend to be nonviolent toward other democracies, but tend to be just as violent as any other country when they're fighting non-democracies. When King Herod saw that his tough law and order posture was winning favor with the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also. And while Peter was kept in prison, the church prayed fervently to God for him.
We might have hoped for a little more effective action on the part of the church, especially in the face of such formidable power. I mean prayer is fine, as far as it goes. But what good is prayer going to do in a situation like this? Against these iron bars, shut gates, and four squads of soldiers. The author goes out of his way to make sure we know that this was no minimum security, Leona Helmsley, prison. This was the real thing. Peter's bound with chains and he's sleeping right between two soldiers, while other soldiers were out front keeping watch over the prison by night. Peter's not just in jail. He's really in jail. Solitary confinement. Why, he's as good as dead. After the celebration they're going to bring him out and kill him. He's on death row. He may as well already be in the tomb.
Suddenly an angel appears and a light shone in the cell. The angel slaps Peter on the side and woke him up, saying, "Get up! Get up quickly!" The chains fall off his wrists and Peter stumbled around the cell while the angel commands his every move: "Fasten your belt. Put on your sandals. Wrap your cloak around you. And follow me." They walk right past the first and the second guard, they come before the iron gate leading into the city, and it opens for them of its own accord. They get outside on to the street, and the angel suddenly disappears.
Now Luke tells us that Peter, the disciple who ran to the tomb of Jesus after hearing the report of the women, didn't realize that any of this was real. He thought he was dreaming. Instead of taking confidence and courage in the proclamation of Jesus' resurrection, Peter figured this must have been some kind of strange reaction to Gentile food or some kind of delayed grief reaction to being in prison. He thought it was just a vision.
Years ago Morton Kelsey, in surveying Roman Catholic lay people, found that the majority of lay people reported having a life-changing, mystical experience with God. But when questioned the majority of those people had never told anybody about it. And when further questioned they said the last person they would tell is their priest, because he would think I was crazy. So Peter thought it was only a vision. Wishful thinking. But once he got out on the streets Luke tells us that Peter came to himself and said, "Huh! You know, this just may be real! This may be the real thing." He came to himself, and then he scurries over to Mary's house, where the church is in prayer.
He starts knocking on the door, looking over his shoulder, wondering if the guards are going to catch up with him. Finally a maid, named Rhoda, comes to the door. The church is in the background praying, "Lord, if it be thy will, please release Peter from jail. On the other hand, if it's not thy will, help us to adjust to our situation." And while the church was praying, Luke tells us that Rhoda was so filled with joy upon hearing Peter's voice that she forgot to open the door. Instead, she ran back to the church and said, "Excuse me, but I think he's loose. He's standing outside the gate."
At which point someone said, "Rhoda, we're having our prayer time now. Don't interrupt. You get back in the kitchen. We're having prayer." Peter keeps knocking and knocking. Rhoda keeps proclaiming. And the church keeps saying, "You're mad. You're nuts. Women get hysterical sometimes, particularly in grief situations. It's probably just his angel. We'll go on with our prayer." Rhoda finally opens the door, Peter comes in, and when they saw him, they were seized with terror and amazement. He bid them peace, and told them of how the Lord had brought him out of prison. Then he added, "Tell this to James and to the believers." At which point he left and went to another place. When morning came, there was no small commotion among the soldiers over what had become of Peter.
Do you hear echoes in this story of another story around which we have gathered today? Yes. Jesus was in the cell. He was in the tomb. A large stone in front of the door. Soliders guarding the door. And it was first discovered by some women, who were told by an angel, "Jesus isn't here. He's gone home. Run if you want to catch him. Go tell the men folk what's happening." So they go back and tell the disciples, who react the same way as The Jesus Seminar. They don't believe. They call it an idle tale. They look for some other, more-plausible, less-threatening explanation.
I think these stories of Jesus in the tomb and Peter in the jail are meant to do a number of things to us. People, if you think that Easter is something that we celebrate once a year and that after we pay for the trumpets and the timpani it's over -- think again! If you think that Easter is something that happened once to Jesus -- think again! Easter keeps on happening. Breaking out. What happened to Jesus at the cemetery keeps happening to Jesus' own people. Door keep getting opened. People keep getting dumbfounded. Strange people preach. The Spirit touches all God's children with the gift of resurrection. It's an indiscriminate outpouring of grace. Even maids becomes agents of the gospel. And the last people to believe it are the church. In those days, it would have been hard for the church to imagine any power greater than Caesar. But that's exactly what Easter challenges us to do. That's why we have to keep telling the story, over and over again. "Jesus isn't here! He's loose. Go spread the news. This time it's for real."
Some time ago on the evening news, perhaps you saw it, the person of the week was a white-supremacist racist hatemonger. He was arrested for blowing up a black church in Mississippi. At the time of his arrest, he had 12 sticks of dynamite in his car and he was on his way to blow up the home of a Jewish business man. He did about 12 years in jail for it.
That man is now a co-leader of a national church-related ministry bringing white children and black children together. Bringing white churches and black churches together to make the world a different place. The reporter asked him, "How in the world did you move from there to here." He said, "Well, it's hard to explain but while I was in jail I was met by the risen Christ. And I was forgiven by the risen Christ. And you just don't walk away from the risen Christ the same old person."
And there was part of me, I confess, that found it hard to believe. When will I get the grace to listen to Rhoda? Amen.
Happiness or Holiness?
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
April 21, 1996
Memory Verse: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete." (John 15:11)
Today's Texts: Job 28:12-28 and John 15:1-11
Opening Prayer: God of Justice and Joy, we ask now for the gift of your Spirit. This time is your time. Form us in your image and fill us with your faith. Make us know the truth, and set us free to love. Amen.
Church Council will meet on Tuesday evening for its regular monthly meeting. The meeting, however, promises to be anything but regular, as Council receives the report of the Ad Hoc Worship Committee regarding the prospects for additional worship services here at First Church. Members of the Committee will be in attendance in order to speak to the written report. The meeting is, of course, open to anyone who wants to attend. This report will form the basis for next week's newsletter as well as for next month's decisions regarding the shape and proportions of our worship ministry in the years ahead.
The preparation and presentation of this report forms the background for my current sermon series on the church as A Community of Joy. Working with the Ad Hoc Worship Committee over the past seven months has taught me a lot, and I want to share with you some of what I've learned. I can honestly say that I understand more today about the mission of the church and the nature of worship than I did one year ago. My goal in this sermon series is to share that understanding with you in order to provide us with a common basis for the design and development of our ministry plan. We have reason to be encouraged by the fresh, new wind of God's Spirit that is blowing among us.
I should say, at the outset, that my comments in this sermon series do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the entire Committee, nor even of anyone in particular on the Committee. My thoughts are informed by the journey of the past seven months, and I they will communicate the enthusiasm, the gleanings, and the community that we shared together as a Committee. It has been a special and productive time.
Two weeks ago this church celebrated the great festival of Easter, along with countless other churches around the world. If ever there's a Sunday for festive joy, it's Easter Sunday -- the Sunday celebrating Jesus' resurrection from the dead. Here at First Church the music was special, the sun was shining, the lilies were beautiful, the sanctuary was full, the word was preached, and the sacrament was given. It all came together to make for a marvelous day.
In the calendar of the church, Easter begins a fifty-day season of joy culminating on Pentecost with the coming of the Holy Spirit to the church of Jesus Christ. Last year, however, the great season of joy didn't last for fifty days. We had three days of joy, at which point a bomb went off in Oklahoma City from which the nation has yet to recover. As those sights and sounds are replayed in the media, we are reminded of how easy it is for the forces of death and destruction to fall right back into place.
And that, my friends, is where we must begin our discussion of what we're doing here -- week after week -- in a building that's shaped like a cross. We gather to remind ourselves that the forces of death and destruction do not have the last and final word. We gather to tell the story of Jesus Christ -- his life, death, and resurrection. We gather as a community of joy in a world which knows all too little of joy, substituting instead the frantic pursuit of one diversion after another.
These diversions can be categorized into the culturally acceptable and the culturally unacceptable. Or as Mark Twain might say: into your diversions and everyone else's diversions. Culturally acceptable diversions usually revolve around prosperity, popularity, and power. It would seem we can never have too much of those. Affluence, and the toys of affluence, lie at the heart of the American dream in which any kid can make it to the top. Armand Hammer may have said it best: "Money is my first, my last, and my only love." Such has become our national obsession.
In a country where gambling was once viewed as a sin, it is now widely assumed that luck is the only way anyone can ever really get ahead. State lotteries, ostensibly to fund education and other worthy causes, are but the tip of the iceberg. Casino gambling has gotten a foothold in more than a dozen states while sweepstakes and contests are the stuff of American advertising. It seems we can hardly wait to get something for nothing.
Our love-affair with affluence plays itself out in many guises. A few years ago President Bush, speaking to a nation with one of the worst saving rates in the West, lifted up consumption as a patriotic duty. Spend now and save later was the message of his 1992 State of the Union address. Apparently, if we don't play the game, the whole house of cards will come tumbling down. And quite a house it is.
A recent Senate hearing documented what many have long suspected, namely that the pay of American CEOs and senior executives is spiraling out of control. While "the CEO of a Japanese company earns 17 times the pay of an average worker...in the United States, some CEOs are paid 109 times more than the average worker when salaries, bonuses, and stock options are included." (Phil Gailey, "CEO's Salaries: Up, Up and Away," St Petersburg Times, June 17, 1991). No less a defender of the free market than Forbes magazine says plainly, "It doesn't make sense."
As people move up the ladder, their culturally acceptable diversions require more and more money as well as more and more leisure time. Counselors are required not only to help people cut up their credit cards, but to turn off their computers. Surfing the net has become both a risky and a costly affair. It's easy to get lost in a web that mixes information with titillation and the illusion of companionship. Researchers have found a direct correlation between hours spent on the net and dropping out of college. Physical fitness, health foods, spectator sports, and television shows are other examples of culturally acceptable diversions which give us more the appearance than the reality of joy. They distract us from the pain of our existence and the deep questions of life.
The laundry list of culturally unacceptable diversions continues without abatement. More than half of the nation's junior and senior high students drink alcoholic beverages and almost half a million go on a drinking spree every week. College students are even worse, consuming an average of thirty-four gallons of alcoholic beverages per person per year. Violence and hate crimes rose by 25% during the 1980s. The teenage suicide rate has tripled over the past three decades. Sexual promiscuity and pornography is rampant, even among Christians. A Playboy model who was allegedly involved in a tryst with a U.S. senator was interviewed recently because of her conversion to a Presbyterian church in New Jersey. When asked if this would affect her nude modeling, she replied, "I don't think so. I mean there's a lot of people in my church that have been in Playboy."
The annual tradition at Capital University for students to run naked through the campus at midnight usually manages to make a headline or two in the local community newspaper. When one first-year student was questioned about her participation in this dubious tradition, she responded by saying: "Life is difficult; you need something to lighten the load. I've never done it before, but streaking through campus just sounded so exciting. It sounded like a great way to have fun." "We are a society of notoriously unhappy people," observed Erich Fromm, "lonely, anxious, depressed, destructive, dependent--people who are glad when we have killed the time we are trying so hard to save." (To Have or To Be, New York • Harper & Row, 1976).
Even many churches have gotten into the diversion game, providing what J.I. Packer calls "hot-tub religion." We all know the type. Long on promises and short on demands, embracing anything that will make us feel better about ourselves. They promise perfect peace, joy, happiness, and prosperity to those who sign on and support their community of faith. Since God wants no one to suffer or be deprived, we need only learn how to ask in order to receive in abundance. Religion becomes just one more scheme in the get-rich-quick mentality of a narcissistic society.
But happiness is not to be found in these diversions, regardless of how widely they may be accepted or practiced. And the purpose of worship is not to make us feel better about ourselves but to make us feel better about God. It should come as little surprise that the exilic passages of the prophet Isaiah were such a favorite source for the New Testament authors. They too were trying to tell the story of God's victory over sin and death. They too were trying to anchor people in a reality which transcended the exigencies of the moment. They too were trying to sustain people with the promises of God over against the pressures of life.
Three months ago I was having dinner in a fine French restaurant with one of our church members. We didn't know it at the time, but cancer had already taken control of her body. Last night I was standing watch at her death bed along with members of the family. One of her grandchildren was quite angry that God would let his grandmother die like this, with so much pain and so little dignity. He said, "I hate God for doing this to my Granny."
That, when you get right down to it, is the reality to which worship must speak. None of us can be sure that three months from now people will not be standing watch over us. The day is promised to no one. But worship reminds us that God's promises endure, even to the end of the age. Worship helps us to replace fear with joy by connecting us with a story and filling us with a Spirit the world does not know.
"Fear," writes Eckart Otto and Tim Schramm, "is a feeling which determines our time; fear narrows the vision, reduces thoughts and emotions, and blocks the way to communication with others. It robs the future and also hinders the perception of the possibilities of the present. Fear doubts the meaning of the individual life as well as all life in general."
But fear can be replaced by joy. "Joy cannot be commanded, rather it must be established. The basis of joy is meaning. Meaning is experienced and communicated in festivity. ... The biblical witness tells us that festivity and joy contend always anew and once and for all against fear, sorrow, and death. Faith sees within that festivity God's intent for salvation and rejoices at its closeness." (Festival and Joy, Abingdon • Nashville, 1977, 1980).
2,500 year ago people faced the same ultimate questions of life and death, and they came away with the same assessment of life's diversions. In the search for happiness, Job ruled out the possibility that mortals could come up with it on their own. "The deep says, 'It is not in me,' and the sea says, 'It is not with me.' It cannot be gotten for gold, and silver cannot be weighed out as its price. It cannot be exchanged for jewels or coral or crystal. The chrysolite of Ethiopia cannot compare with it, nor can it be valued in pure gold." Silicon microchips do not, in the end, fare any better.
"So where does wisdom come from? And where is the place of understanding? Death and destruction say, 'We have heard a rumor of it with our ears.' That rumor comes from God, who understands the way and knows the place of wisdom. God does not suffer from our limited perspective, but sees everything under the heavens. Truly, respect for God is the key to happiness and righteousness is the key to understanding." (Job 28:12-28)
Worship is the place in which we come to speak the rumor of God. One of the ongoing questions of the Ad Hoc Worship Committee was the question of worship and entertainment. What's the difference? We never definitively answered that question, but the answer is clearly not about how much happiness and fun people have at the service. The answer is about how much holiness and faith people have at the service; it's about whether or not people hear and connect with the rumor of God.
Jesus made this connection clear in his final words to the disciples. In the gospel of John, after Jesus had washed the feet and predicted the betrayal of the disciples, he went on to give them a new commandment about love and a new image about their relationship with God. "I am the vine and you are the branches. Those who abide in me will bear much fruit, since God is the vinegrower. If you love me and keep my commandments, God will be glorified in you. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete." (John 15:1-11).
Do you see the connection being made? We are grafted onto the vine in order to bear the fruit of God, and in bearing the fruit of God we are filled with joy. Helen Keller put it this way: "Many persons have a wrong idea about what constitutes true happiness. It is not attained through self-gratifications, but through fidelity to a worthy purpose." Worship could be described as entertainment which connects people to the purpose of God. We are meant to be entertained by the notion that death and destruction is not all there is to life. We are meant to be entertained by the notion that the last will be first, the lost will be found, and the lonely will be lifted up. We are meant to be entertained by the music, the medium, and the message of Jesus and God's love.
This is not self-serving. This is God-serving. The gospel of Jesus Christ must come alive in every age and every generation. Worship is the primary place where Christians are connected to the vine and forged into the image of God. As a community of joy, we are encouraged to confront the cynicism and despair of the world with the compassion and caring of God -- even when, especially when, life is breaking before our very eyes. To those outside the church, it makes little sense. But to those who are being saved, it is the power of God and the aroma of Christ.
In the next few weeks, we will look at the music, the medium, and the message of worship in order to understand more of what we are doing in this service and in the worship services to come. It is my prayer that we will bear fruit and grow as a community of joy. It is my prayer that we will step out in faith, confronting the casuistry of the world with the festive celebration of a loving and eternal God. Amen.
Singing the Songs of Joy
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
April 28, 1996
Memory Verse: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete." (John 15:11)
Today's Texts: Exodus 15:1-13 and Colossians 3:1-17
Opening Prayer: O God, you speak to us in every circumstance of life. In the best and the worst, you are there. We claim your presence here and we listen for your word. In Christ's name. Amen.
"Then Moses and the Israelites sang a song to God." (Exodus 15:1)
What is it about the story of Moses that has made it endure the test of time? For more than 3,000 years, people have told this tale of enslavement and emancipation, of revelation and wanderings, of belief and apostasy. For more than 3,000 years, people have been captive to the deep magic of its liberating movement. For more than 3,000 years, people have broken out in song about the mighty hand and the steadfast love of God.
The story starts, of course, in the beginning.
"Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. And the king said to his people, 'Look, this family is too numerous for us. Let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they increase in number and fight against us in time of war.' So the Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks upon the Israelites and in making their lives bitter with hard service of every kind."
"The king of Egypt even ordered the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, to kill the baby boys at birth. But the midwives feared God and they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded."
The story of salvation history is the story of politics and resistance. Wicked kings and frightened people, pitted against one other in a test of faith. The mighty edict of Pharaoh confounded by the cunning and courage of two Hebrew women. Even when everyone else had forgotten about the saving acts of God, Shiphrah and Puah remembered. They remembered and they refused to do what the king commanded.
It's a frightening thing to break ranks with the king. I can remember my own struggles with the Vietnam War, and the struggles of those working for civil rights or military disarmament. It can tear apart families and friends; it can result in imprisonment and even death. But in each generation there have been those who remember and respond in faith, often at great cost to themselves.
Moses was one who survived. He survived to hear the voice of God calling out to him in the wilderness, from inside a burning bush, "Moses, Moses, I have observed the misery of my people and I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. I know their sufferings and I intend to deliver them from Egypt. So come, I will send you to the king and you will say to him, 'Let my people go.'"
Politics and resistance. Moses protested vigorously, "Who am I to go up against the power of the king? I am slow of speech and faint of heart" But God was to be neither dissuaded nor denied. "Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel," proclaimed Moses to the king who was called Pharaoh, "'Let my people go, so that they may celebrate a festival to me in the wilderness.'" But Pharaoh said, "Who is the Lord that I should submit to this word? I do not know the Lord, and I will not let Israel go."
I'm sure most of you know the rest of the story. Moses keeps urging and Pharaoh keeps refusing. Moses keeps warning and Pharaoh keeps ignoring. Plagues keep coming and plagues keep going, but Pharaoh remained steadfast in his subjugation of Israel. Finally, when his own first-born son died in a plague that struck the households of Egypt, Pharaoh summoned Moses in the middle of the night and said, "Rise up and go away from my people. Take your flocks and your herds and be gone. Go worship the Lord, as you said, then perhaps I too shall receive a blessing."
So after 430 years of slavery, the descendants of Abraham and Sarah quickly pack up their belongings and flee into the wilderness of the Sinai Peninsula. As if that wasn't challenge enough, Pharaoh has a change of heart and pursues them to the sea. With water on the one side and armies on the other, Israel cried out against Moses only to be silenced by the way which God made for them out of no way. The people escape through the waters, leaving behind, once and for all, the oppression of Pharaoh.
"Then Moses and the Israelites sang a song to God." (Exodus 15:1)
It is, in fact, the first recorded instance of singing in scripture. The people could hardly contain their joy. After 430 years of slavery, they were free. After 430 years of abandonment, they were remembered by God. After 430 years of misery, they were blessed. Words could not begin to capture the moment; but music could express the fullness of their happiness and their hope.
As a Jewish Midrash observes, "God had saved people before, yet none had sung words of praise: not Abraham when saved from the fiery furnace (of which the Midrash speaks); not Isaac when saved from the knife; nor Jacob when saved from the angel, from Esau, or the people of Shechem. But as soon as Israel was saved they uttered their song. And God responded: 'I have been waiting for them.'" (Exodus R. 23:4).
That may be all we need to know; namely, that God is waiting for us. We have not been forgotten. We have not been abandoned. We have not been overcome by death. In the Jewish tradition the Song of Moses holds a special place; the congregation stands whenever it is read, a custom which has developed with regard to only one other Torah reading, that of the Ten Commandments. The overwhelming sense of gratitude that the Children of Israel felt at the sea still reverberates in the hearts of their descendants.
"I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has hurled into the sea. The Lord is my strength and my might; God is become my salvation. This is my God and I will praise him, the God of my ancestors, and I will exalt him. In the greatness of your majesty you overthrew your adversaries; you sent out your fury, it consumed them like stubble. Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in splendor, doing wonders? In your steadfast love you led the people whom you redeemed; you guided them by your strength to your holy abode." (Exodus 15:1-2, 7, 11-13).
Can you not feel the beat of the song coming right through the words? That is, after all, the point of the music. To transform us into a different way of being. To transport us into a different way of seeing. Why else do people sing in choirs? They even put on different garments, robes, as if to say, "I am not the same person as the one who walked in that door. I am in the service of God." That, in reality, is the very point of worship. To catapult us into an attitude of gratitude. To shower us with the blessings of God.
If you come to worship and do nothing more than listen to the music, as though you had gone to a concert, then you do not know of what I am speaking. If your voice never starts singing and your soul never starts soaring, then we have failed to make this liturgy the work of the people. Worship is not a music appreciation class; worship is a transformation factory in which broken and hurting and doubting and stubborn people are made over into the image of God. Nothing does that better than singing the songs of faith.
One thing I miss about the design of this sanctuary is being unable to sing in, and even to really see, the choir. In my old church, the choir was in the chancel -- making it easy for me to sing with them. We would stand at the chancel steps and interact with the congregation as worship leaders. Sometimes it was a matter of getting people to stand or to clap their hands. But most of the time it was a matter of connecting with people emotionally through the sights and sounds of music in the making.
It was a rule in our choir that everyone had to learn and sing at least one solo. I will never forget the Sunday we were to sing "God Is." Renee Davis, a young single-parent, was the soloist and she had had one of those terrible, no-good, awful weeks. I remember that she had been put out of her apartment and her child had been hospitalized. There was a question of whether she'd even make it to church, let alone be in any condition to sing her solo. Most of the church knew and had been praying about her problems, so it was no small victory when Renee arrived and stood up to sing.
"God is the joy and the strength of my life. He removes all pain, misery, and strife." Tears started to flow down her cheeks. "I want to go with him when he comes back. I've come too far and I'll never turn back." Pretty soon tears were flowing down the cheeks of just about everyone in the room. "God Is. God Is. God Is. God Is. God is my all in all." The transformation factory was doing its work.
I know that our choir has had many similar experiences, as people have overcome one hurdle after another to climb those steps into the Gallery. I know that many a tear has been shed and many a victory has been won. Unfortunately, the location of the Gallery makes it difficult for the congregation to share that experience in quite the same way. We have to work harder in order to be transformed by the heavenly strains wafting upon us.
On Friday night Megan and I had the opportunity to attend The Columbus Symphony Orchestra's presentation of Mozart's Vespers and Rossini's Messe. Elizabeth Holleque was seated in the front row, along with three other soloists. Behind them were the Orchestra and the two Columbus Symphony Choruses. It was an entourage of hundreds that stretched far back on the stage. Elizabeth was the only one of the soloists who visibly reacted to the music when she wasn't singing. She would smile or move her hand; once she even cocked her head back for almost a minute to get a good view of what was going on behind her. When she turned back around, she had a great look of satisfaction and pleasure. Elizabeth was working harder.
We have our own opportunity to get involved with the singing of hymns. It's not how well you know them, but how hard you try, that makes the difference. Dene says that he can tell when people are really singing, even at the organ. It's not only a matter of volume, it's a matter of Spirit. There is nothing like coming together as the people of God in the posture of Moses, singing God's praises with passion and warmth, lifting up God's victory over sin and death. As Whoopi Goldberg discovered in the movie Sister Act, singing those songs can really make a place come alive. Not only will Dene be able to tell, but the whole city of Columbus may take note.
The trick is to sing the songs of joy even when you don't feel like singing them. Perhaps I should say, especially when you don't feel like singing them. That is one thing I appreciate about the posture of our choir director; he understands that when it's time to worship, we worship. We praise the Lord anyway, regardless of what may be happening in the world around us.
That is the reality to which we testify in worship. Do not be misled by the Song of Moses. It is not a "Rah! Rah!" victory song. For Israel to sing that song, after 430 years of slavery, was an act of faith. They could have taken their bitterness with them. For Israel to sing that song, on the threshold of an untoward wilderness, was an act of hope. They could have taken their misery with them. For Israel to stand when that song is sung today, after a century of holocaust and violence, is an act of love. They could have let their pain define them. Instead, they seek to be transformed by the Spirit of God.
Perhaps this is what the apostle Paul was writing about to the Colossians. "Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God." How often do we whine about the condition of life, as though life had never been touched by God at all? How often do we indulge in the sin of life -- greed and anger, lying and gossiping -- as though life had never been renewed by God at all? More often than any of us would care to admit.
Paul urges the Colossians to clothe themselves with love, compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience; to forgive one another as God has forgiven them; to be ruled by the peace of Christ and to be thankful. Such admonitions move beyond the Stoic platitudes of a righteous life when Paul offers specific suggestions on how take up the new life in Christ: teach and admonish one another in wisdom; do everything in the name of Jesus; and sing -- sing hymns, psalms, and spiritual songs to God -- with gratitude in your hearts.
I told you that happiness and holiness was not an either/or choice! That's because we are charged not merely with counting our blessings, but with counting it all as joy. Whether in slavery or freedom, whether in poverty or wealth, whether in wandering or direction, whether in apostasy or faith -- we are to claim the loving hand of God. For having died with Christ, we live with Christ as the whole people of God.
Coming together as the people of God, singing lustily and passionately the songs of God, is how we allow Christ to dwell richly within us. It takes far more than intellectual endeavor and stubborn determination. It takes the corporate experience of lifting our voice in song, over and over again, until the gospel comes alive in our hearts. Then, and only then, can we hope for the benefits of righteousness. Then, and only then, can we pray for the closeness of faith. Then, and only then, can we look for the victory of God. Amen.
Sharing the Cup of Joy
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
May 5, 1996
Memory Verse: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete." (John 15:11)
Today's Texts: Exodus 12:1-14 and 1 Corinthians 11:17-29
Opening Prayer: God of all Creation and of the people gathered here, help us to discern your Presence among us. Help us to hear your word and to see your body. Speak to us and make us recognize you in the breaking of the bread. Amen.
It's dangerous to preach a sermon about something which is meant to be experienced rather than expressed. The Christian church has suffered more divisions over its theology of the sacraments than over any other aspect of its life together. Should we baptize infants or adults? Should we sprinkle, pour, or dunk? Does the bread and wine actually change into the body and blood of Christ? Or are they but symbolic reminders of Jesus' last meal with his disciples? Should we call it the Eucharist, Communion, or the Lord's Supper? This is the stuff out of which denominations are born, and there are as many variations as the human imagination has been able to devise.
This tendency toward disunity has been especially pronounced in the past 450 years. Prior to that time, the sacraments did not tear people apart and divide them into such contentious factions and competing groups. Other than the split between Constantinople and Rome in 1054, which was not driven by the sacraments, the Christian church was more or less united for its first 1,500 years of existence. But with the public posting of Luther's 95 theses in 1517, all that began to change. Suddenly the fine points of theology became reason to separate one Christian from another, and even to draw swords against one another. I'm sure that Jesus was sitting at the right hand of God, scratching his head in disbelief.
How could something as simple as the Holy Meal become such a scandal among Christians? From its inception, the world had trouble comprehending what was going on. But that was understandable. All our talk about the body and blood of Christ made for an easy target in a world hellbent upon squashing this latest sect of the Roman Empire. Vicious rumors were spread that Christians were practicing human sacrifice and cannibalism behind closed doors. Since Communion was frequently part of an Agape Meal, or Love Feast, taking place at the private homes of Christians, the accusations expanded to include all manner of debauchery and immorality. Christians were being discredited on the basis of hearsay and lies.
In order to counter these accusations, Christians wrote profuse and often eloquent apologies to explain and defend themselves. Consider, if you will, the testimony of Justin Martyr, born in Palestine, to Greek parents, around the turn of the first century. After studying the competing philosophies of the ancient world, Justin was converted to Christianity in the year 130. Twenty-three years later he wrote his First Apology, from the city of Rome. Justin's description of Christian worship is as striking for its clarity as for its familiarity to the modern ear. Listen to his words:
"On the day which is called the day of the Sun we have a common assembly of all who live in the cities or in the country, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as much as there is time for. Then, when the reader has finished, the one presiding provides, in a discourse, admonition and exhortation to imitate these excellent things. Then we all stand up together and say prayers...."
"At the conclusion of the prayers we greet one another with a kiss. Then bread and a cup containing wine and water are presented to the one presiding over the gathering. He takes them and offers praise and glory to the Father of All, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and he makes a lengthy Thanksgiving to God because He has counted us worthy of such favors. At the end of these prayers and Thanksgiving, all express their assent by saying Amen. This Hebrew word, 'Amen', means 'So be it'."
"And when the one who presides has given thanks, and all the people have acclaimed their assent, those whom we call deacons summon each one present to partake of the bread and wine and water over which the Thanksgiving was said. We call this food the 'Eucharist' (literally, the Thanksgiving). No one is allowed to partake it except those who believe that our teachings are true, who have been cleansed in the bath (for the forgiveness of sins and for regeneration), and who live as Christ commanded."
"We do not receive these as though they were ordinary food and drink. Just as Jesus Christ our Savior was made flesh through the word of God, and took on flesh and blood for our salvation, so too, we have been taught, the food over which the Thanksgiving has been spoken becomes the flesh and blood of the incarnate Jesus in order to nourish and transform our flesh and blood by assimilation."
"The deacons then carry this eucharistic food to those who are absent. The wealthy, if they wish, contribute whatever they desire, and the collection is placed in the custody of the one presiding, and he helps the orphans and widows, those who are needy because of sickness or any other reason, and the captives and the strangers in our midst; in short, he takes care of all those in need." (Adapted from Gary Macy, The Banquet's Wisdom: A Short History of the Theologies of the Lord's Supper, Paulist Press • New York, 1992).
It's hard to believe that Justin's description of Sunday worship was written more than 1,800 years ago. It is a decent description of most church liturgies today, including our own. It's also hard to believe that anyone reading this Apology would not want to flock to the doors of the church. No wonder the church grew by leaps and bounds!
But it was not always so. Less than one hundred years earlier the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Corinth about problems they were having with their order of worship.
"What is this I hear?" he writes, "why I can hardly believe it! There are factions and divisions among you, even as you come together to eat the Lord's supper? Some go away hungry while others go away drunk? Must you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter, I do not commend you!"
"For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me."
"Whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves. When you come together, wait for one another. Care for one another. Love one another. Then the bread which we break will be a sharing in the body of Christ. Then the cup which we bless will be a sharing in the blood of Christ. Then there will be no condemnation, for we will be one in Christ Jesus our Lord. (1 Corinthians 10:16-17, 11:18-34, Romans 8:1).
Therein lies the crux of the matter when it comes to understanding the sacrament of Holy Communion. From Paul on down, none of the great Churches has ever been willing to reduce the Eucharist to nothing more than a commemoration or a memorial feast. They have all affirmed and struggled to explain what D. M. Baillie calls the "Real Presence" in the sacrament. (The Theology of the Sacraments, Faber & Faber • London, 1957). Paul gives us the help we need when he suggests that we discern the Real Presence in the community which gathers to eat of the bread and drink of the cup.
This suggestion harks back to Paul's heritage as a Jew. The Eucharistic meal began, after all, as the Jewish Passover meal eaten by Jesus with his disciples on the eve of his crucifixion. And the Jews were great ones for understanding the Passover meal as an act of the community, a living memorial, a dramatic recreation of the circumstances surrounding their liberation from slavery and death. Everything must be as it once was, in order to properly and fully recall the Real Presence of God.
"This month shall mark for you the beginning of months. Gather together in your families, slaughter a lamb, put some blood on the door posts and the lintel, then roast the lamb over an open fire and eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Gird your loins, put sandals on your feet, take your staff, and eat hurriedly. This feast shall be a remembrance for you and for your descendants; it shall be a perpetual ordinance. This night you shall see the deliverance of your God." (Exodus 12:1-14). Past, present, and future tenses. Individual, family, and cosmic dimensions. They all became one in the ritual celebration of the Passover.
Such was the stuff upon which Paul grew up, circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews. It was only natural for Paul to bring these dimensions into the Christian Passover known as the Lord's supper or the Eucharist. It wasn't a private affair designed to help individuals get right with God; it was a corporate affair designed to help the church as the new people of God. It wasn't something that happened in the past, long ago; it is something that happens in the present, every time we invoke the memory of Christ's victory over sin and death. It wasn't an anniversary to be celebrated but once a year; it was an activity to be consummated whenever we gather as an encouragement and an expression of faith.
I remember reading the story of a large prosperous church in London which had started three mission churches in various neighborhoods of the City. On the first Sunday of the New Year all the members of the mission churches came to the downtown church for a combined communion service. There were some pretty rough characters in those mission churches, converted by the gospel of Jesus Christ. Now they knelt side by side, at the Communion rail, with the highest ranks of society.
On one such occasion the pastor saw an ex-convict kneeling beside a judge of the Supreme Court of England -- the very judge who had sent him to jail where he had served seven years. After his release from prison, this man had been converted and become a Christian worker. Yet, as they knelt there, the judge and the former convict, neither one seemed to be aware of the other.
After the service, the judge was walking home with the pastor and said, "Did you notice who was kneeling beside me at the communion rail this morning?" The pastor replied, "Yes, but I didn't know that you noticed." The two walked along in silence for a few moments, and then the judge replied, "What a miracle of grace." The pastor nodded in agreement -- "Yes, what a marvelous miracle of grace."
"But to whom do you refer?" asked the judge. The pastor said, "Why, to the conversion of the man who knelt beside you." But the judge said, "I was not referring to him. I was thinking of myself." The pastor, surprised, replied: "You were thinking of yourself? I don't understand." "Yes," the judge replied, "it did not cost that man much to get converted when he came out of jail. He had nothing but a history of crime behind him and when he saw Jesus as his Savior he knew there was salvation and hope and joy for him. And he knew how much he needed that help."
"But look at me. I was taught from earliest infancy to live as a gentleman; that my word was to be my bond; that I was to say my prayers, go to church, take communion and so on. I went through Oxford, took my degrees, was called to the bar and eventually became a judge. Pastor, nothing but the grace of God could have caused me to kneel down and admit that I was on the same level as that man. It took much more grace to forgive me for all my pride and self-deception, to get me to admit that I was no better in the eyes of God than the man I had sent to prison."
Do you see what he saw? This judge of the Supreme Court drank from the cup of joy, by discerning the body of Christ. It was not in the bread, as though the crust could be peeled off to reveal the flesh of Christ. It was in the gathering of the faithful community, without regard to class, race, gender, age, sexual orientation, language, ability, or any of the other things that so often separate people one from another. When we see this multiracial, multicultural church as the whole people of God, and when we wait on one another in the spirit of love, we can be confident of the Real Presence in the sacrament.
A few months ago we had a young child in this church who was experiencing Communion for the first time. When the bread was passed her eyes got wide and she said to her grandmother, "Is this when they do it? If this when they feed all the people with loaves and the fishes?" The answer, in so many words, is, "Yes!" Yes, this is when we do it. This is when we apply the mystery of Christ to the needs of this world. This is when remind ourselves of who we are and where we are going. This is when the miracle happens, and people like you and me are transformed into the body and blood of Christ. Once we were no people, but now we are God's people. Once we did not know mercy, but now we know the mercy of God. Amen.
Telling the Stories of Joy
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
May 19, 1996
Memory Verse: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete." (John 15:11)
Today's Texts: Exodus 16:1-7, 13-18 and John 20:19-29
Opening Prayer: Gracious God, help us to believe the good news of your resurrection. Help us hear your word and to trust your promises. Bring us closer to you. Amen.
According to Senior Anchor Peter Jennings, ABC is the only secular television network to have a full-time religion editor as part of its news team. They created this position because they believe that our country is in the midst of what some people have called the Fourth Great Awakening. Religion is taking on new dimensions, prompting new behavior, and producing new vocabulary for an increasing number of people. They believe that religion is an important part of the daily news.
But covering religion has not proved to be an easy assignment. In a speech Jennings gave last year at Harvard Divinity School, he tells the delightful true story of a Washington Post reporter who went to Africa to cover a papal visit. Unfortunately, it was raining on the day the pope was scheduled to arrive in one particular village. And it wasn't just sprinkling. It was coming down in a torrential downpour, monsoon style, such as the kind which occasions so much flooding and destruction.
While waiting for the pope to arrive, the reporter started a conversation with a man in the crowd. He commented that the pope might have to change his plans on account of the rain. The man confidently said , "No, when the pope arrives it will stop raining." Looking at the sky and knowing the weather forecast, the reporter was pretty skeptical about that prediction. "What makes you so sure it will stop raining?" he asked. "Because the rain doctor said so," was the reply. "The pope is blessed, and when he arrives God will hold back the rain until he is done speaking."
Well, as it turned out, that's exactly what happened. When the pope arrived, the clouds parted and the sun came out. He conducted a liturgy and blessed the people, with nary a drop of rain. And immediately as he got back into his armored motorcade, the rains returned with a great clap of thunder and lightning -- not to let up for the rest of the day.
"Now," Jennings asks, "how do you report on a story like that?" Do you say that God held up the rain in order to give the pope an opportunity to speak? Do you say that it was a coincidence or a lucky break? Or do you report the facts, ma'am, and nothing but the facts -- the rain stopped and the pope spoke? In this case, as a rational, enlightened, critical, thinking, modern person, the reporter decided to stick with the facts, steering clear of any attribution of motive or intent. But it left him wondering whether God should have been so easily written out of the story. (Harvard Divinity Bulletin, 1995, Fall Edition).
Jennings' discussion about the problem of covering religion in the media brings us back to the question with which we began this series on the church as A Community of Joy. Whose report will you believe? The thick report of those who see the hand of God or the thin report of those who see nothing but the facts? The joyful report of those who see the blessing of God or the sad report of those who see nothing but God's absence? The encouraging report of those who see the resurrected Christ, ascended to heaven and sitting at the right hand of God, or the discouraging report of those who see nothing but an implausible myth and an impossible world view?
It's really up to you. You are under no compulsion, one way or another. You are free to choose. But I offer a word of caution -- the lens through which you choose to view the world, the story through which you choose to filter your experience, will determine much about your ability to approach life with a spirit of joy, even in the midst of difficult and trying times. If God be for us, who can be against us? That is an affirmation which has sustained the spirits of faithful people for more than two millennia. And that is the reason we come to places like this on the first day of the week -- to hear those stories of joy which remind us of God's transcendent and transforming love.
This week I heard one such story, about the founding of the Pretiola Shop in 1969. Several women from this church -- Pam Coe, Matey Janata, and Betty Fernald -- went to visit the Church of the Savior in Washington, D.C. after studying Journey Inward, Journey Outward by Elizabeth O'Connor. This book, which grew out of their experience in our nation's capital, talks about how you can't have one without the other. The journey inward and the journey outward are part and parcel of authentic Christianity.
The Church of the Savior uses the vehicle of a Mission Group to help people maintain the balance between these two journeys. Here they prayerfully discern and faithfully exercise their gifts in the body of Christ. If you're not willing to become an active part of a Mission Group, you're not allowed to become a member of their Church. That's how seriously they have taken the wisdom of D. T. Niles that "mission is to the church as fire is to burning."
Returning from their visit, these women became the motivating force for a Mission Group here at First Church that would serve as an outlet for both our own creative energies and for the handcrafts of third-world artisans. So began the vision of the Pretiola Shop; the only problem was they had no space, no money, no inventory, and no experience. Small things which didn't seem to get in the way. With the power of prayer and the willingness to work, God provided the rest. Florence Taylor wrote of the day they needed an adding machine, only to have one mysteriously appear two days later. That same kind of thing happened on so many different occasions, the women came to believe that God must truly have a hand in their labors and in their fortunes.
Now whose report will you believe? Was it coincidence or was it providence? Was it accident or was it incident? Was it real or was it Memorex? It all depends upon your point of view. They could have complained about the impossibility of their task or the meagerness of their resources; instead, they gave glory to God for the blessings they encountered along the way.
We saw this again just last month, as a terrible tragedy was narrowly averted on Sunday morning. An electrical short produced a fire in an old fuse box on the other side of that wall; if it had happened at night it could have done a lot of damage. Maybe even burned down the church. As it was, Wally Giffen -- chairperson of our House & Grounds Committee -- walked in the door just as the flames were starting to shoot up the wall and just as the hallways were starting to fill up with smoke.
He was certainly the right person to walk in that door at that time. He knew just what to do and how to do it. He went downstairs, shut off the power, and helped to extinguish the blaze. Everyone pitched in and by 9:45 the building was back in order, albeit without electricity in certain rooms. For many people who came to church, they never even knew anything happened.
Now whose report will you believe? Was this something which happened without motive or intent? Was this just one more sign of what an albatross this old building is around our necks? Or was this yet another instance of God holding back the rain and providing for our needs? I, for one, choose to drink from the dulcet stories of joy rather than from the bitter waters of Marah.
But it isn't always easy. Pick up any newspaper on any day and you can read all about the bad news. Airplanes crash into the everglades. Admirals commit suicide. Husbands kill their wives. The globe is getting hotter while churches are getting torched. Christians, Jews, and Muslims fight in violent confrontations. There's always something to turn your head in the direction of despair.
The Israelites, our ancestors in faith, had just escaped from 430 years of Egyptian slavery. For 430 years they had been driven, under punishment of death, to make life easier for their Egyptian masters. And now they were free. They were loose. In a dramatic display of divine power, God confounded the Egyptians with plagues and helped the Israelites to cross over the Sea of Reeds. When their pursuers drowned in the sea, Moses and the Israelites broke forth in a song of joy.
But that was then; and this is now. Now all the hoopla and fireworks are passed and the Israelites find themselves wandering in the wilderness of Sin. Now they have to scratch for every drink of water and every bite of food. Now they're beginning to wonder if God's mighty hand had worked a miracle or a nightmare. "What is this?" they complained to Moses and Aaron. "You take us from one kind of death only to lead us into another! At least in Egypt we could have died with our bellies full. But now we're going to die of hunger in the desert." (Exodus 16:3).
So God provided food for his people. In the evening quails came up and covered the camp, and in the morning the people found an edible layer of dew. "What is this?" they asked, since they had never seen it before. And Moses replied, "It is manna, the bread of heaven, which the Lord has given you to eat."
Modern scholars offer a somewhat different response to the Israelite's question. F. S. Bodenheimer has suggested "that manna was the honeydew secretion of two kinds of scale insects feeding on the sap of the tamarisk. These insects ingest large amounts of plant sap, which is rich in carbohydrates but poor in nitrogen. The excess carbohydrate in order to obtain the needed nitrogen is then excreted as honeydew." (Harper's Bible Dictionary, 1985)
So whose report will you believe? Was it the bread of heaven or the confectionery excretions of scale insects? Somehow, the bread of heaven seems much more appetizing. Whatever the natural phenomenon, this was a very unnatural provision. Every day they had enough to feed large numbers of people. It was like the garden of Eden all over again. Without any sweat of the brow, they were able to harvest a life-sustaining food. God had interrupted the natural order to establish once again the ideal relationship between the Creator and the creature.
Maybe it can be reduced to the excrement of insects, but why? Why take the Spirit out of life and make it pathetically gaunt? Why not look for and see the sustaining hand of God? Why not take that leap of faith, finding a larger design behind every peculiar twist and every disturbing turn?
During the production of a Christian film entitled Circus, one member of the cast pointed to the high trapeze and said to the director, "Why don't you try it?" The other performers heard the challenge and joined the growing chorus. "Try it! Try it!" Eyeing the large safety net under the trapeze, the director cautiously replied, "Well . . . why not!" Very slowly he began to climb the small rope ladder. Twenty feet . . . thirty feet . . . forty thousand . . . finally he crawled onto a minuscule platform which seemed miles above the assembled crowd.
He looked down. The once-large safety net had shrunk to unbelievably small proportions. "Go ahead, you can do it!" the performers encouraged. Taking the trapeze bar in his perspiring hands and steadying his shaking knees, he prepared to jump. Across from his platform an acrobat was ready to send forth the empty trapeze. Mustering up all his courage, he cried, "Go!" and went swinging into space.
The director observed: "Flying through the air, I made three important discoveries. First, you can't hold on to one bar while grasping for the other. You must let both hands go and leap! Second, it's frightening and threatening to let go of your security. Third, you don't have forever to make up your mind." "Jump . . go ahead . . . jump!" the cast members cried. And on the third arc he did! Flying through the air, he reached out and grasped the bar with his fingertips, went swinging to the other side, and was pulled safely to the platform.
Amid the applause and cheers of the performers below, the director had taken a leap of faith.
Are you ready to take such a leap? Thomas had to put his finger in the nail marks and his hand on Jesus' side. Then and only then was Thomas willing to see things from a different point of view. "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." (John 20:28f). Blessed, indeed, for they will be filled with righteousness, peace, joy, and the Holy Ghost.
Easter is hard to believe. There is much in the world that would lead us to believe otherwise. But we have a story to tell, a story told by faithful people down through the ages, a story of God's power and love playing itself out in the lives of ordinary people like you and me. I, for one, choose to hold on to that story yet today. I, for one, choose to tell that story over and over again in the sights and sounds of worship. I, for one, choose to take that leap of faith -- trusting with the apostle Paul that all things work together for good for those who love God. Amen.