Last Sunday after worship I thanked the
trumpet player and noted to our Choir Director, Jake Spinella, how providential
it was to have her play that day – being that it was the 500th anniversary of
the Reformation. Jake made a comment about my Reformation humor, and I said
that I hoped to make a good Presbyterian out of him one day. Let it be no
reflection on Jake’s good character that the trumpet player said, “Good luck
with that!” Let it further be no reflection on him that I said, “No, really,
you can be a good Presbyterian and still be a terrible person!”
While
that may sit a little funny with some of you, I could not help but think of it
as I read this week’s text. As followers of Jesus in the Reformed tradition, we
recognize that we are limited by our very humanity and more likely to choose
that which benefits ourselves and those we love every time. So, we have to
recognize that we can be really good Presbyterians that know the Apostle’s
Creed by heart, follow the Book of Order to the letter, study our Confessional
heritage, and read and reflect on the Bible daily and yet are limited by our
sinful nature.
Sometimes
we can be really good Presbyterians and still be really terrible people. I’m
not lifting being terrible up as a virtue. I’m saying that sound doctrine and
right religious practice does not blot out sin. That’s what Jesus told the
crowds on that day. The religious leaders were making a show of their positions
and their personal piety without concern for the burden their religious
practices placed on the poor, or the way in which they had come into cahoots
with the Roman Empire and its oppression of the people.
While
it’s easy to throw stones at our spiritual ancestors, it’s important to
remember the fragility of our own house. Are we not always held up by the same
critical lens? Is hypocrisy not the easiest pot shot to make about the church?
Is that not the reason that some have acted violently toward the church, even
in this day and age? Is that not the reason that we have a whole generation in
our nation that we call “the Nones” – those that have some level of belief but
no religious preference?
Certainly,
it is! But what do we do about it? Well, first we have to own it. We have to
let scripture confront and convict us. We have to hear Paul pleading that we
live lives that are worthy of this grace and mercy that we have received, and
not just our individual lives but the life we have together as a people of God.
And in our life together we have to remember Martin Luther’s definition of the church
as a hospital for sinners rather than a hotel for saints!
Of
course, if it is a hospital we should have some hope that we might get better.
We should have some hope that we are not resigned to sin – we aren’t left alone
as terrible people. Not only that, but there is some hope, some expectation,
some claim of scripture that reminds us that those who have gone before were,
in the long run, not defined by their sinfulness but by the grace and mercy of
God.
These
are those that are as Saints to us now. They remind us, even in their failings,
that God was, is, and shall be active and present and able to lift even you and
even me from our own sin and selfishness. While there are so many of these
types of Saints that come to mind, I can’t help but think of my grandfather, my
Daddy Bill.
In
some ways he was a harsh man, and in others gentle. He was a soldier, a
businessman, and a family man – a true product of his generation. As a good
Presbyterian, one of his favorite words was “stewardship.” It was amazing how
that man could apply that word to just about any practice. Stewardship of time,
resources, material possessions – you name it, he could frame it. It wasn’t an
annual campaign for him. It was a theological orientation that shaped his world
view.
In fact,
I can remember at least once when he commented on a stranger’s grocery cart and
her choices of stewardship. I also remember him as the person who influenced me
to pray very short, specific prayers when in restaurants. His prayers were
rather long, and I always felt they might be a little bit like the prayers of
the Pharisees – you know, praying so that people knew you were praying rather
than giving glory to God. And with all his faults – those known to me and unknown – I
will remember him as the man who in the grip of dementia and memory loss would
still sing the refrain of “Trust and Obey” with utmost clarity and sincerity.
And so,
it falls to you and me, terrible people and good Presbyterians that we are, to
embrace this faith that has even selected us. I don’t mean the Presbyterian
faith necessarily. I mean the scriptural claim that God is in our midst and the
belief that Jesus offers us salvation, even from ourselves. I mean the faith
that lets us recognize how terrible we have been, and can be, but always
invites us to this table so that we might demonstrate something more when we
leave this place.
You
know, thinking about that, and about the way in which we are all saints and
sinners in our own ways, I’m reminded of a conversation with a good Roman
Catholic follower of Jesus that I met recently. In our conversation he quoted
Psalm 51:3, “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.”
He said, “You know I am really aware of my sins, in fact I
have a lot to make up for from the 80’s.” Anyone who has reached adulthood
could probably pick a time period and say the same, although I have often sent
my kids to school with the parting words, “Make good choices!” so I suppose the
same thing could apply to all of us. It could. Except that we do not believe
that we are making up for our sin. We can’t. We are always and forever
responding to the grace and mercy and forgiveness of God.
And
in that space, the space around this table, we can even look at the failings of
Saints from before us and find God’s grace. In that space, we can even look at
Biblical histories of the genocide of the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites,
Perizzites, Girgashites, Amorites, and Jebusites,
and we can find compassion for those that seem to threaten and invade our own
culture with shifting views and differing ways of thinking and speaking.
In
the space around this table – and in the company of Saints that have gone
before us and are present and are yet to come – we can, and we must connect
faith and practice where and when we see faith being co opted by the powers that
be. We have to be willing to talk with each other about the issues of the day,
so that we can help frame and understand the world through the lenses of
scripture and its faithful application.
I think
my grandfather would call that a form of good stewardship. I think, if he were
here today, he would tell you that the ritual of dedicating ourselves to the
ministry of the church through time, financial resources, and talent is a good
thing to do.
It’s
not good because of the ritual. It’s good because it’s a natural response to
the love of God. It’s good because it empowers us to be a part of what God is
doing in the world, with or without us. As for me, I’d rather be a part of what
God is doing, because I’m a good Presbyterian and sometimes I can be a terrible
person. My sins are always before me, but God’s grace is always behind me. And
that means that I am one of the Saints of the church, just like you.
So,
let us dedicate our very selves this day with no assurance other than the grace
and mercy of God. Let us continue being formed and reformed and always
reforming into the image of God our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. For in
that way we will demonstrate the Kingdom that is both present and yet to come,
the kingdom that tastes like grain and grapes and forgiveness and thanksgiving;
the kingdom that looks like love and justice and right relationships between
all people – no matter how terrible or saintly you have been. For one day, in
the words of Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and
every manner of thing shall be well.” Amen.
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