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Back to Basics
Sermon by Brigid A. Boyle September 7, 2003, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Deuteronomy 29:1-16, 30:1-20 2 Corinthians 4:1-12
It is no secret that the role of the church, and the way the church does or does not function, has changed considerably over the last years. It is no secret that most churches are struggling more so now than ever to figure out who they are and how they best to function that they might provide a faithful witness, that we clay jars are broken and leaking and cracked. It is no secret that "the church possesses," writes one theologian (Robinson), "an insufficient sense of urgency or challenge about being the church." And it is no secret that plenty of people have stepped up to the plate with supposed remedy to the church's sad situation in hand. Organizational theorists, conflict mediators, family systems therapists, and so many more have published books and lectured the country 'round, with plans in hand for helping those who would hear understand the "paradigm shift" in the church, or which "congregational archetype" they fall into and why, or the reality of "generational patterns of triangular conflict" in the church. It is, I know, not a bad idea for the church to be thinking about how it might be better and stronger in a day when legions of churches are growing smaller and weaker year by year and month by month. It is, I know, not a bad idea for churches to do a bit of congregational self-reflection to begin to see some of the destructive patterns that have been repeated over and over again. And it is, I know, not a bad idea for the church to look into other realms of thought or other disciplines, for guidance or for parallels between the church and other institutions. But it is, I also know, not enough for the church to do that and it cannot be, I know, where the church begins. What makes the church unique, quite obviously, is that we are a people rooted and grounded in something greater than ourselves, that we have a story to tell and to trust that no one else has to tell. And at root of the church's struggles these days, many have suggested is a sort of "theological amnesia," or "religious illiteracy" which takes the shape of a lack of theological clarity, confidence and conviction, which no organizational theorist alone is going to heal. The church's memory is failing and we have lost sight and hold of who we really are and what we are really to be up to in the world. Our recollection of story and purpose grown dim, our ability to remember sacred word and event weakening, we, the church (not just this church, but the church) search high and low, far and wide, for something, someone - a book, a lecture, a sermon, helpful hints - anything, anyone, that might help us find a "fix" that the church might then find its way in this new world and be all that it can be, all that it should be. But it is my contention, based on what I know of the Bible and what I know of the way God is with God's people, that the "fix" is not as difficult to find as we think it to be. "Surely," writes the author of Deuteronomy, "[it] is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not heaven that you should say, 'Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us, so that we may hear it and observe it?' Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, 'Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?' No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe." These words at the end of Deuteronomy come in the midst of Moses speaking to the people of a covenant. It is not the covenant at Sinai, when Moses received the Ten Commandments, chronicled earlier in Deuteronomy and in the book of Exodus, nor is it one of the "big covenants" that I learned to rattle off as a seminary student: Noahic, Abrahamic, Mosaic, or Davidic. Rather, it is a covenant given at Moab, just as Moses was about to die, just as he stood with the children of Israel on the edge of the promised land, just as he stood with these people who heard God's promise of land and life and hope, yet who had again and again turned from such a promise. Scholars suggest that this text, in its present form, was probably an exilic text, meaning that it was actually written when the people had lost the land they were given, when they had, over and over again, demonstrated disobedience and faithlessness and then found themselves apart from all that which told them who and whose they were. It was a call to a new oath of allegiance, a call for the people to once again bind themselves to this God who promised so very much. Surely seems to simple to suggest that we need bind ourselves anew to God if we, the church, are to survive and thrive in what may lie yet ahead. Surely, such a "back to the basics" attitude seems too straightforward. Surely that seems the stuff of "Promise-keepers" or conservative Christians or altar calls. But, I tell you, such a suggestion, such a command, really, is not simple, either in understanding or in practice, and, I do believe, that is where the church need begin, always and if ever we are to emerge from what seems to be this downward spiral towards irrelevancy. What that means, is that church, you and I, need to learn, again or for the first time, the basics of what this covenant means, and who this God is who gives it, and what the story has been of God's children trying to live in its light. That, I promise you, is not simple at all. Those of you who have spent years studying the Bible, and Basic Christian Doctrine, and A History of Christian Theology and the letters of Paul know that as well as I do. Those of you who spent the summer pondering the disputed points of Calvinism know that as well as I do. Those of you who will spend this fall continuing with Paul's letters, or probing the minds of Great Theologians, or discussing the sermon of the day (a pre-view of Adult Education this fall) know that as well as I do. (Consider that a pat on this back to this congregation. George Stroup once bewailed what he called "The silence of Scripture in the life of the church." I dare lean towards pride when I think of how Scripture is not silent in this church but how you have grown to be a people whose minds and hearts thrive on a faith that seeks understanding.) Nevertheless, if the church is really and truly looking for a "fix," it needs to go back to the basics, or simply to the basics for the first time, not to dull the mind, but to make us truly alive. So then, on this day, I bid us, as a beginning step, consider this text before us, this covenant of which Moses speaks, that we may be given wisdom enough to understand what it means for the lives you and I lead, and for the life of the church, and grace enough to pledge our allegiance to it. Often even the most faithful find it difficult to wade through the waters of covenant language because of what seems so much recitation of the rules. If you do this, you will be blessed. But if you do that, you will be cursed. It does not always make for fun reading! Yet, says Pat Miller, "Covenantal logic says that the most fundamental relationship of human existence is initiated from outside ourselves and created by the prior reality of loving-kindness. All the talk of demand and obedience, of sanctions and blessing and curse, does not come into the conversation until the people have been grasped and held by the powerful and living hand of God. While there is considerable divine address in Scripture … " he continues, " it must never be missed or forgotten that God first listens and responds to the needs of the people" (remember how God heard their cries while they were slaves in Egypt). While the act of covenant making here and elsewhere impresses us with its call for choice and decision, we must keep in mind that those who are called to choose have in some sense already been elected and drawn into covenant by what God has done …" The first thing to say, then, about this covenant, about the choice you and I are called to make in obedience to it, is that God has already chosen us, that God has already provided for us and already holds us in his hands before we grasp back on to his. This logic, of course, underlies all of Christian tradition. Most of us know it as justification. I think of how it is that I explain infant baptism to new parents, that God know who this child is even though she is too little to know who or what God is, that God has provided for his little life even though the only thing he is worrying about is how soon his next meal will be provided. So, for us, as we are those who stand, I think now and always, on the edge of this basic oath of allegiance, we are those who must understand that the call for us to choose comes only after God has already chosen us. Which is to say that we begin with God, not with us. That basic truth underlies everything on which our tradition and our faith are based. That basic truth ought to be the foundation for all that the church does and every word it speaks. Beginning with God, then, we human beings cannot help but to ask after, or wrangle over, whom it is that God has chosen. But listen in again as Moses mediates God's address to the people. "You stand assembled today, all of you … - the leaders of your tribes, your elders, and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your women and all the aliens in your camp, both those who cut your wood and draw your water - to enter into the covenant of the Lord your God … I am making this covenant, sworn by an oath, not only with you who stand here with us today, but also with those who are not here with us today." What these words tell us, these twelve phrases, is that this covenant is made with every member of the community. Specific categories of persons may have been left out, but the final phrases make it clear that all in the community, "whoever is here and whoever is not here" are drawn into this relationship. This phrase, also, like so much of what we find in Deuteronomy, transcends the boundaries of space and time. This covenant is not restricted to the ones who were standing right there and that very time when Moses spoke these words. No, this covenant was for all those who would hear these words. It was for King Josiah when he found the book of Deuteronomy in the temple centuries later. It was for those who were in exile and those who returned from exile. It is for those who knew God in the face of Jesus Christ and for those who know God in the face of Jesus Christ. Which is to say that this covenant is for us. It is for me and for you. It is for all who would claim allegiance to this God, the young, the old, the rich, the poor, the men, the women, the gay, the straight, the whole, and the broken. The basic truth, my friends, is that this covenant is for all who would hear, for all who do hear. Finally, after we understand that this covenant comes from the God who has already granted us so much and whose loving kindness always precedes any request for our obedience, and after our minds and hearts are opened to understand that this covenant is for all who God would choose, not who we would choose, only then do we look to what this covenant asks of us. In this case, the basic stipulation is clear: the exclusive worship of one God, the Lord of Israel. It is what we hear over and over again through the Old Testament, in the shema, "Hear O Israel, the Lord your God is one" and it is what we hear in the New Testament, "Thou shalt love the God with all your heart, and strength and mind and soul." Pledging obedience to the God who makes this covenant means turning from all that is not God that would beg our faithfulness nevertheless. For the people of Moses, it meant turning from the worship of idols and other gods drawn from ancient new eastern cultures. For us, it means turning from all that would want to claim our supreme loyalty: the dollar, the job, the family and even the church. It meant and means putting our full and abiding trust in this God who promises so much for us. It means choosing this God who has chosen us. It means learning from this God who has so very much to teach us and learning of this God who has done so very much, and it means giving ourselves to this God who has given himself for us. Would that all in Christ's church might commit themselves so, would that we might get "back to the basics" in this sense, how much better off we would be, how much more could be and do. And, you know what, it is possible. In the face of ancient cries that it was too hard, and modern cynical cries that it is simply not possible, we hear, 'Surely, this commandment that I man commanding you is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away … It is not in heaven ... it is not across the sea ... it is very near to you …" What God, through Moses, has to say to the people of Israel and has to say now to us is that the "fix" for the ailing church is not too far away. It is not in words some solution architect might have to speak or in a recovery plan an organization theorist might develop, rather, it is in words very near to us. It has, we know, come nearest to us in Jesus Christ. For us, we who trust his grace, what Deuteronomy means is clear. "Nowhere," continues Miller, "is the availability of God's gift of life more readily transparent and demonstrated than in the Word made flesh and the Word preached." The way to life, for you and for me and for the church, and the way to live, for you and for me and for the church, is set before us in Jesus Christ, in who he was and in what he said and in what he did. It is in this One who sat at table with tax collectors and sinners. It is in this One who welcomed the outcast and opened his arms to those whom society would turn away. It is in this One who shows us the truth of this God who loves is deeper and broader and higher than all else. Perhaps it is going back to the basic truth, but perhaps it is also going after the only truth that can set, that does set us free. Thanks be to God. Amen. |