|
Building a Pit Sermon by Andrew Plocher June 3, 2007, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill 2 Kings 12:1-15 Romans 5:1-11 King Joash was a relatively good king. He had taken over the family business, given some good decrees, didn't rule with an iron fist, and was thought to be a nice guy. But kingliness has responsibilities involved, especially when you're the leader of God's chosen people. Joash started thinking like a lame duck president, "gosh." He thought, "What's my legacy going to be?" And so begins the edict- repair the house of the Lord. When we meet our cast of characters today they are in the midst of renovations. They've decided to make the church energy efficient, green, and to repair the plumbing that was installed a few decades ago. They restore the physical location of their worship. See, the priests were told to take care of the building 23 years ago, and in his frustration (it's the last half of his reign remember) King Joash has decided that the priests shall get no money from tithes and offerings unless the money goes to the building repairs. You could say this is a little bit of financial arm twisting, or if you think about all the people who stop giving their funds, this might be the first 'boycott' on record: no money until things change. But a priest named Jehoiada is a thinking chap and decides to create a lock box where money can go for the building. Soon the container has gained funds and building repairs begin. The repairs are, however, simple and the money paid, honestly, to the workers. There will be no gold or silver added to the chancel, no big screen TV in the youth room, no fancy table ware for the kitchen, and no climate controlled sanctuary. Joash was a relatively good King. However, instead of focusing on the worship of God he chose to focus on the temple. A minor character flaw. After all, he did manage to get the temple rebuilt, the money went to the workers, and there weren't even extravagances. In today's world we might turn our attention to the currently occurring Walmart shareholders meeting, the executives at Comcast and other corporations, and the growing disparity between the corporate figure heads and the workers that repair and sustain their industry. They could learn a little from King Joash. But that's not the whole point. The story is not just about the success of rebuilding and the just treatment of workers. More importantly, I think, the story is about fidelity: faithfulness to worship and to God. In the middle of chaos, of dying prophets and leaders, of sieges and impending doom and gloom (sorry about the spoiler), the story is about holding fast to the community of faith. When the world falls in upon itself the story turns inward. When the twin towers fell, when Katrina hit, and when hardship falls upon the world we often turn first to the community that sustains us: the faith community, our family, immediate and extended. King Joash has a bit of wisdom left. He understands that amid corporate infidelity, the faithfulness of the people can be rallied to make space for God. We need a common mission to gather around, whether it be as misdirected as the golden calf or as correct as worshipping God. The King reminds the priests to make space for God, to respond to God's love. King Joash knows what grace is about. Another man knew how to explain grace well, too. His name was Paul. Paul began his life as Saul of Tarsus, a man who went door to door seeking Christians to persecute. Today we would have called him a terrorist. Yet he was redeemed and has become an irreplaceable character in our understanding of Jesus. He knew how to explain grace, "For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly." Theologian Karl Barth paraphrases Paul, saying, "By faith we attain the status of those who have been declared righteous before God. By faith we are what we are not." Grace is absolutely unexpected. It is not what we deserve nor is it what always makes sense. It comes from the same God that washed away the sins of the earth in a flood, turned a woman into salt, picked sides in battles and is not exactly on the easy reader shelf at the library. The God of grace is not for what we are, but for what we are not. The Confession of 1967, from our church constitution, frames grace beautifully: "The reconciling work of Jesus was the supreme crisis in the life of mankind. His cross and resurrection become personal crisis and present hope for people when the gospel is proclaimed and believed. In this experience the Spirit brings God's forgiveness to men, moves them to respond in faith, repentance, and obedience, and initiates the new life in Christ. The new life takes shape in a community in which people know that God loves and accepts them in spite of what they are. They therefore accept themselves and love others, knowing that no one has any ground on which to stand except God's grace." Grace is what we stand on. It is not what we deserve, but what we are given. Whether we except it with reverence and enter into daily worship, struggle to understand what it means, or throw ourselves to the floor in desperation like Martin Luther, we are still recipients of God's love. True, as the confession continues, we are not released "from conflict with unbelief, pride, lust, fear. We still have to struggle with disheartening difficulties and problems. Nevertheless, as we mature in love and faithfulness in our life with Christ, we live in freedom and good cheer, bearing witness on good days and evil days, confident that our new life is pleasing to God and helpful to others." (C67) Our new life is the free gift and we are asked to use it. It may take us twenty three years to figure it out, the nudging of a boss or family member, and it will definitely take courage to enter into. Whether it is facing health challenges, relationship difficulties, or even the transition into the unknown chaos and recreation of summer, there are difficulties ahead. But in this community, the people next to you in the pews, those at home and afar, there in their midst is the body of Christ. Each of you is a new creation. Each of you is given the gift of life in the death of Christ. It is not just the life, the health, the prosperity that we are gladdened by, but the hope of reconciliation in eternal life. We are welcomed, with open arms, to the parent that has watched his son crucified. There was a brief one verse story immediately following the lesson from 2 Kings today. It's where my sermon 'one-liner' in the bulletin came from. It is about a man who was being buried and he, accidentally, was dropped into the wrong grave. It just so happened to be the grave of Elisha, the prophet, and as miracles do happen, the man stood up, alive again. It's a weird story, but I think it bridges today's scripture lessons well. It is the story of a man who accidentally was dropped into a grave and found new life. Finding our way into a pit isn't as easy as getting thrown in or dropped. We avoid it, run away from it, try to jump over it, and even try to fill it. Yet there, in the grave, lies the empty space where our Lord once lay. It is no longer a place where bones touch, but a place where new life is found. It is a place where we stand up again, forget about the silver and gold, take the courage to restore creation and care for our neighbors. Both on the cross and in the empty tomb we meet Christ. Grace involves joys and sorrows, but at its heart it requests a response. How do we return our thanks to the one who gives us what we do not deserve? I think theologian Soren Kierkegaard articulated an answer well when he once wrote: "If anyone asks, "Who is my neighbor?" then Christ's reply to the Pharisee, who asked this same question, contains the only answer, for in the answer to this question Christ turned everything around. Christ says: "Which of these three, do you think, proved neighbor to the man who fell among robbers?" The Pharisee answered correctly, "The one who showed mercy to him" (lk. 10:36). This means that by doing your duty you easily discover who your neighbor is. The Pharisee's answer is contained in Christ's question. He towards whom I have duty is my neighbor, and when I fulfill my duty, I prove that I am a neighbor. Christ does not speak about recognizing your neighbor but about being a neighbor yourself, about proving yourself to be a neighbor, something the Samaritan showed by his compassion." Christ proved to us through passionate sacrifice that he is our neighbor. As we gather for communion today let us not dwell too much in the desire to see our neighbors. Let us be neighbors. Let us advocate for fair wages, recognize that Saul can become Paul, and let ourselves fall into the pit. I pray that in the darkness we will see the light of a new creation, and we will rise with our Lord. Grace is abundant. |