Today is Mother’s Day, which is a secular holiday that has deep roots in our nation’s history and is celebrated in a variety of ways around the world. Mother’s Day has also taken on a special significance for me because it is extremely important to our siblings in Cuba.
As they tell it, the idea of celebrating Mother’s Day was actually one of the early contributions of the Presbyterian Church in Cuba, and during the revolution, it was small groups of women who held Bible studies and kept the doors of the church from closing. One of those women is Mercedis Cardenas, who established the Sabanilla Church, and also our partnership with them, and who – at 92 – tasted the first sip of purified water from the filtration system that we partnered with them and Living Waters for the World to set up.
Yes, the faith of our mothers sustains us, and we give thanks to them today. One of the many ways that my mother and hers before and others on both sides of my family have sustained and encouraged my faith is through scripture. My mom occasionally sends me readings when it strikes her to do so, and I’ll never forget waking to see her mother, my Mama Nina, reading the Bible while eating breakfast.
One of my greatest treasures is a Bible that was my namesake. It has his name embossed on the front, Zachary Lumpkin Scott, and inside his daughter – Mama Sasser, my great-grandmother – underlined passages and wrote dates on them when she had memorized them.
Now, I say “greatest treasure” loosely, because I think it is important to realize how easily our things can become treasures and even, dare I say it, idols. According to Reinhold Neihbur, an idol is not just something we pray to as though it has special powers. An idol is a center of value around which we make decisions, and I would push it a little further to say that it is something in which we place our hope; something we look to to guarantee an outcome.
You might say that is what Paul encountered in the city of Athens – named for the Greek Goddess, Athena. All of the Greek gods were worshiped in Athens, but maybe not in the way that we think of worship. Sure, they had rituals and rites and festivals, but at the end of it all, they just went on with their lives. Worship was more of a means to an end than a way of being in the world. Worship was a way to receive favor from the gods. In essence, it had more to do with getting the gods to do things than aligning oneself with what God is doing in the world.
The gods were a resource when things weren’t going right. In some ways, it was like an early version of a cell phone. Are Crops not yielding? We’ve got an app for that. Fertility? We’ve got an app for that. Somebody died? We’ve got an app for that.
The gods were really not interested in personal choices or ethics. They were simply explanations for forces that were beyond control. They were seen as moody and easily offended, yet they were really only concerned with their turf. Given that creation was held at their whim, it was only natural to try to curry their favor when times were tough; and just to be sure that no god was left out, the Athenians had a statue for “an unknown god.”
When Paul’s travels took him to Athens, he did as usual and went to the synagogue to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah. They weren’t buying it, so he argued with anyone who would talk to him because that’s how they communicated and shared ideas in Athens.
Eventually, he was led to the Areopagus – because that was the place to hear different opinions and discuss the meanings of things – and he was overwhelmed by the number of gods represented and the confusion these people must be experiencing.
At first, they thought he was telling them about a foreign god since they believed that gods held sway in certain regions like Kings and Princes did. Paul tells them that they have been wise to hedge their bets, but that the unknown god is THE God; that God created all that is; and that God had scattered humanity so that we might search, grope, and perhaps find the One in whom we live and move and have our being. Then Paul lowers the boom by borrowing the words of their own poet, Aratus, to say that we are not the offspring of Zeus, but of the God who is so powerful that even death does not limit God’s activity and love.
Of course, some of the Athenians scoffed. Death? They had a god for that. But some listened and said, “We will hear you again on this.” We have no way to know, but I wonder if the thing that struck home was the fact that Paul told them that if they are God’s offspring, then they can’t have come from an image that they formed out of the stuff that God made. The statues and idols were believed not only to represent the Gods but also to embody them. If the things we make are divine, then we are the creators of our own gods. Paul used this line of thought to say, “Surely we can all agree that God is God, and we are not.”
Now – as elementary as that sounds – I can’t help but wonder if we do not still need to hear the same thing today. Our culture is more pluralistic than ever before. We have celebrity “Idols” and political identities and allegiances that define us. We have celebrated individualism to the point that it has become a center of value, and we have so many centers of value that we find it hard to say what and whom we are devoted to and to what and whom we are not.
With all that tugs at us, and limits our vision of hope for the future, the first thing we have to hear in the Areopagus of the church is that “God is God and we are not.” The next is that this God, the one we fail to see in the midst of all of our competing priorities, is greater than the God that we can conceive. Not only that, but this God – the real and true God – is the one in whom we live and move and have our being.
While we might say that God desires a relationship with us, which I believe God does, the reality is that we are held by God’s love whether we know it or not. Yes, it is through Jesus that we understand and see God’s love, as described in our readings from 1 Peter 3 and John 14, but it is almost like jumping in a pool and realizing that you were already swimming in it! The presence of God – or God’s love – holds us like gravity and surrounds us and sustains us like oxygen. We may not see or know God, but that does not stop God from loving us and it does not stop us from demonstrating the love of God in ways that make God’s active presence undeniable to others!
Still, sometimes we need things to point to that describe things we cannot understand or see. We need touchstones and talismans to remind us of where we have been and where we hope to go. Our offices and homes are littered with them like tiny shrines to little gods.
I confess there are a few on my desk. The miniature Red Flyer wagon that sometimes has jelly beans in it is one. It was a gift from some followers of Jesus who became my family at a summer camp. The wagon reminds me of the whimsey God created me with. It reminds me that God created me, has carried me through difficult times, and that a life of faith is filled with endless combinations of bitter and sweet.
Another little touchstone is an acrylic paperweight with a quote from Isaiah that came from a member of the church that raised me. The clear acrylic reminds me of the waters of baptism and of God’s claim upon me. The giver of the gift and the scripture upon it reminds me that, in a church, we are all in it together and all strengthened by God.
Along with these is a wooden desk set that was carved for my grandfather by a friend. The wood originated in the boards of a church that burned long ago. It reminds me how fragile life can be – especially a life lived in a community – and it reminds me that nothing we create is ever as sacred as the One who created us.
In front of it sits a stained glass piece I created on a clergy retreat that was inspired by a theme for Camp Agape that came from John 7:38, “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” It reminds me of the many families of choice – camp, congregational, and clergy groups – that overlap in my life to form the church and bolster my belief so that my faith can be life-giving, not just for me but for hopefully anyone and everyone I meet.
As fun as it is to tour my desk and the memories it contains, the real point is, to be honest about the source of our hope. In the midst of our idols and talismans – no matter how well intended – we must hold fast to the hope that we receive from knowing that God is God and we are not. We must remember that the God in which we believe is greater than the God we can conceive.
And we must be willing to speak and to act in the Areopagus in ways that demonstrate the love of God, in whom we live and move and have our being – just as our mothers, and theirs before them, have always done.
In that way we will keep the commandments of Jesus to love as we have been loved. If we can do that; when we do that, as Jesus said, “On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.”
I pray that it may be so with you. I pray that it may be so with me. And to God be the glory, now and always. Amen.
As they tell it, the idea of celebrating Mother’s Day was actually one of the early contributions of the Presbyterian Church in Cuba, and during the revolution, it was small groups of women who held Bible studies and kept the doors of the church from closing. One of those women is Mercedis Cardenas, who established the Sabanilla Church, and also our partnership with them, and who – at 92 – tasted the first sip of purified water from the filtration system that we partnered with them and Living Waters for the World to set up.
Yes, the faith of our mothers sustains us, and we give thanks to them today. One of the many ways that my mother and hers before and others on both sides of my family have sustained and encouraged my faith is through scripture. My mom occasionally sends me readings when it strikes her to do so, and I’ll never forget waking to see her mother, my Mama Nina, reading the Bible while eating breakfast.
One of my greatest treasures is a Bible that was my namesake. It has his name embossed on the front, Zachary Lumpkin Scott, and inside his daughter – Mama Sasser, my great-grandmother – underlined passages and wrote dates on them when she had memorized them.
Now, I say “greatest treasure” loosely, because I think it is important to realize how easily our things can become treasures and even, dare I say it, idols. According to Reinhold Neihbur, an idol is not just something we pray to as though it has special powers. An idol is a center of value around which we make decisions, and I would push it a little further to say that it is something in which we place our hope; something we look to to guarantee an outcome.
You might say that is what Paul encountered in the city of Athens – named for the Greek Goddess, Athena. All of the Greek gods were worshiped in Athens, but maybe not in the way that we think of worship. Sure, they had rituals and rites and festivals, but at the end of it all, they just went on with their lives. Worship was more of a means to an end than a way of being in the world. Worship was a way to receive favor from the gods. In essence, it had more to do with getting the gods to do things than aligning oneself with what God is doing in the world.
The gods were a resource when things weren’t going right. In some ways, it was like an early version of a cell phone. Are Crops not yielding? We’ve got an app for that. Fertility? We’ve got an app for that. Somebody died? We’ve got an app for that.
The gods were really not interested in personal choices or ethics. They were simply explanations for forces that were beyond control. They were seen as moody and easily offended, yet they were really only concerned with their turf. Given that creation was held at their whim, it was only natural to try to curry their favor when times were tough; and just to be sure that no god was left out, the Athenians had a statue for “an unknown god.”
When Paul’s travels took him to Athens, he did as usual and went to the synagogue to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah. They weren’t buying it, so he argued with anyone who would talk to him because that’s how they communicated and shared ideas in Athens.
Eventually, he was led to the Areopagus – because that was the place to hear different opinions and discuss the meanings of things – and he was overwhelmed by the number of gods represented and the confusion these people must be experiencing.
At first, they thought he was telling them about a foreign god since they believed that gods held sway in certain regions like Kings and Princes did. Paul tells them that they have been wise to hedge their bets, but that the unknown god is THE God; that God created all that is; and that God had scattered humanity so that we might search, grope, and perhaps find the One in whom we live and move and have our being. Then Paul lowers the boom by borrowing the words of their own poet, Aratus, to say that we are not the offspring of Zeus, but of the God who is so powerful that even death does not limit God’s activity and love.
Of course, some of the Athenians scoffed. Death? They had a god for that. But some listened and said, “We will hear you again on this.” We have no way to know, but I wonder if the thing that struck home was the fact that Paul told them that if they are God’s offspring, then they can’t have come from an image that they formed out of the stuff that God made. The statues and idols were believed not only to represent the Gods but also to embody them. If the things we make are divine, then we are the creators of our own gods. Paul used this line of thought to say, “Surely we can all agree that God is God, and we are not.”
Now – as elementary as that sounds – I can’t help but wonder if we do not still need to hear the same thing today. Our culture is more pluralistic than ever before. We have celebrity “Idols” and political identities and allegiances that define us. We have celebrated individualism to the point that it has become a center of value, and we have so many centers of value that we find it hard to say what and whom we are devoted to and to what and whom we are not.
With all that tugs at us, and limits our vision of hope for the future, the first thing we have to hear in the Areopagus of the church is that “God is God and we are not.” The next is that this God, the one we fail to see in the midst of all of our competing priorities, is greater than the God that we can conceive. Not only that, but this God – the real and true God – is the one in whom we live and move and have our being.
While we might say that God desires a relationship with us, which I believe God does, the reality is that we are held by God’s love whether we know it or not. Yes, it is through Jesus that we understand and see God’s love, as described in our readings from 1 Peter 3 and John 14, but it is almost like jumping in a pool and realizing that you were already swimming in it! The presence of God – or God’s love – holds us like gravity and surrounds us and sustains us like oxygen. We may not see or know God, but that does not stop God from loving us and it does not stop us from demonstrating the love of God in ways that make God’s active presence undeniable to others!
Still, sometimes we need things to point to that describe things we cannot understand or see. We need touchstones and talismans to remind us of where we have been and where we hope to go. Our offices and homes are littered with them like tiny shrines to little gods.
I confess there are a few on my desk. The miniature Red Flyer wagon that sometimes has jelly beans in it is one. It was a gift from some followers of Jesus who became my family at a summer camp. The wagon reminds me of the whimsey God created me with. It reminds me that God created me, has carried me through difficult times, and that a life of faith is filled with endless combinations of bitter and sweet.
Another little touchstone is an acrylic paperweight with a quote from Isaiah that came from a member of the church that raised me. The clear acrylic reminds me of the waters of baptism and of God’s claim upon me. The giver of the gift and the scripture upon it reminds me that, in a church, we are all in it together and all strengthened by God.
Along with these is a wooden desk set that was carved for my grandfather by a friend. The wood originated in the boards of a church that burned long ago. It reminds me how fragile life can be – especially a life lived in a community – and it reminds me that nothing we create is ever as sacred as the One who created us.
In front of it sits a stained glass piece I created on a clergy retreat that was inspired by a theme for Camp Agape that came from John 7:38, “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” It reminds me of the many families of choice – camp, congregational, and clergy groups – that overlap in my life to form the church and bolster my belief so that my faith can be life-giving, not just for me but for hopefully anyone and everyone I meet.
As fun as it is to tour my desk and the memories it contains, the real point is, to be honest about the source of our hope. In the midst of our idols and talismans – no matter how well intended – we must hold fast to the hope that we receive from knowing that God is God and we are not. We must remember that the God in which we believe is greater than the God we can conceive.
And we must be willing to speak and to act in the Areopagus in ways that demonstrate the love of God, in whom we live and move and have our being – just as our mothers, and theirs before them, have always done.
In that way we will keep the commandments of Jesus to love as we have been loved. If we can do that; when we do that, as Jesus said, “On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.”
I pray that it may be so with you. I pray that it may be so with me. And to God be the glory, now and always. Amen.
Comments