July 19, 2009 Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
First Congregational Church in Thetford, Vermont, UCC
Psalm 126; Jeremiah 23:1-4; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
In Marilynne Robinson’s novel, Gilead, the main character is an Iowa pastor
named John Ames. He is nearing the end of his life, and he remembers a sermon he
wrote long ago during the First World War when the Spanish influenza was killing
thousands of people, young and old, all around him. His sermon cried out prophetically
against all war, and he still feels that it was the finest, most courageous sermon he ever
wrote. But he never gave that sermon. He burned it on that Saturday night. The next
morning he preached instead on the good shepherd’s care for the lost sheep.
Here is how the Rev. John Ames explains his decision: “I knew the only people
at church would be a few old women who were already about as sad and apprehensive
as they could stand to be and no more approving of the war than I was. And they were
there even though I might have been contagious. I seemed ridiculous to myself for
imagining I could thunder from the pulpit in those circumstances…. just a few women
there with heavy veils on to try to hide the masks they were wearing, and two or three
men.” (pp 41-43)
What happened was that the pastor in John Ames overruled the prophet. The
people in his flock were few in number and mostly suffering and lost, and his
compassion for them led him to speak words of reassurance about God’s steadfast
mercy and love. In Jeremiah, God says, “I will raise up shepherds for my people,” and
the Rev. John Ames was just the kind of shepherd that those people needed in that time
and place.
It is the job of a preacher to try to balance the prophetic with the pastoral, to
balance inspiration for action with restoration and spiritual nurture. The church needs
both, but sometimes it needs one more than the other.
The theologian Emil Bruner said, “Church exists by mission as fire exists by
burning.” Mission, serving people as Jesus did, is what the church exists to do, and is
how the church becomes a church. But a fire can burn itself out, and as we rouse
ourselves with prophetic calls to mission, we need to be sure that our rate of
replenishment is just a little ahead of our rate of depletion. If the shepherd of a flock
sees nothing but dying embers, it is time to stop the calls to action and build the
congregation back up with the fuel of mercy, nurture and love.
A church can burn itself out in the consuming fire of mission, but it is far more
common for churches to douse the flames at the first sign of smoke. Many a pastor has
been silenced or run out of town for the same reason that the ancient Israelites stoned
the prophets. People cannot stand the heat, as we heard last week when the high priest
Amaziah commanded the prophet Amos to leave the kingdom.
It is easy to look back and condemn the corrupt and faithless peoples of the past,
but far harder to condemn a contemporary church for hanging a “Do Not Disturb” sign
on the sanctuary door. It is only human nature to want to be refreshed and uplifted and
relieved of the weight of the world we have been carrying. We do not want to be
reminded of our complicity in a world gone wrong. We do not want to have to change.
We do not want more work to do. We do not want controversy or danger or self-
sacrifice. In other words, we really do not want Christ. We want a cuddly teddy bear
that will always make us feel good. And who can blame us? This is just human nature.
And indeed, Jesus offers tremendous comfort: “Come to me all you that are
weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon
you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for
your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
But while that is one side of Jesus, it is not the whole of him. He also urges us to
take up our cross and follow him, to lose our life in order to gain life, to lay down our
life for others, to give of ourselves to those who have least and are most oppressed, to
suffer persecution for the sake of his way. This is the context of his mercy.
The task of a shepherd and the task of a church is to balance these two: filling
and emptying, rest and exertion, the time for contemplation and the time for action.
Today’s gospel passage shows Jesus being the good shepherd, trying to restore that
balance. His disciples had just returned from an exhausting stretch of service,
something like what we have just been through in all our activity in recent months
culminating in the Yes-We-Can Do last Sunday. The disciples were tired, and Jesus saw
it and felt compassion. He said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and
rest awhile.” The gospels show that Jesus tried to do the same thing for himself when he
needed it, going up a mountain or off on a deserted beach to meditate and reconnect
with God and refill with the Holy Spirit. So he led the disciples on retreat.
But word got out where he was going. By the time the disciples arrived at their
quiet resting place a large crowd had gathered. Jesus looked at them and saw that they
were like sheep without a shepherd, and he had compassion on them. So instead of
resting, he went right back into his mission of serving. He taught, he fed them, he healed
them, and the disciples waded right in and worked along side him.
Did their hearts sink when they saw the crowd there? You know they did. Did
the disciples grumble? Probably. But did they do the right thing? Of course. Jesus
taught us to love our neighbor as our self. He taught us to recognize our neighbor in
whatever need presents itself before us, and then respond as the Good Samaritan did.
This is not always convenient. We are not always able to get the rest we need. Nor do
we always feel qualified or ready to serve. Others may be better at it than us, or more
inclined, or may have more resources.
Jesus did not leave us much room for excuses. Yes, we need our times of sitting
at his feet and receiving spiritual refreshment (and Jesus called that “the better part”);
yes, we need to go away and rest sometimes; and yes, despite his violations of it, Jesus
did keep the Sabbath—a whole day of nothing but rest and reconnection to God every
week—and we should keep it, too. But love and compassion overrule everything else.
There are times when we are asked to choose between self-care and care for others.
God promises to raise up good shepherds when the flock has been neglected or abused
by shepherds who care only about themselves. There is a bias in the Bible to serve
others and sacrifice our self.
And yet these decisions are not clear-cut. They take discernment. Sometimes we
can serve others best by turning away from their needs and resting first. Sometimes our
life as self-emptying servants requires letting others nurture and fill us back up.
Remember that Jesus allowed a woman to anoint him with expensive oil and wipe it off
with her hair. Jesus had given all he had to the poor and oppressed, and soon he would
give his very life for them, but in that moment, he himself needed comfort, refreshment
and love.
As you know, you are all invited to stay for lunch today after the service, and I
hope you all will, and will be refreshed. There will be delicious food and a chance to
enjoy the company of wonderful people. But as soon as lunch is over we are going to
have a brief exercise to set our peace and justice mission agenda for the coming year.
We are going to ask the members of this church community to say what issues matter
most to them right now as they look around them or hear world news, and we are going
to ask if there is one small or large thing we each could do to help bring our burning
issue into the life of the church.
We expect to be done by 2:00 or earlier, the discussion should take less than an
hour, but still, it is a sacrifice of part of a sunny summer Sunday afternoon at the end of
a long season of busyness. It is a choice we need to make. On the one hand is our need
for rest and relaxation, and on the other are the needs of the world that weigh most
heavily on our hearts. This is not an easy decision, nor is it one that anyone can make
for anyone else.
Some of us are so depleted from all we have given that we need to be able to
come to church and only receive until we are refilled and strong enough to start giving
again. These people deserve not only our compassion, but our highest honor, because
they have given all they had to give. You know who you are if you fall in that category.
Thank you, and rest well, and God bless you.
Those of you who feel you can give the Mission Committee a little help this
afternoon, we thank you, too. And when you have given all you can, we will be here to
bless you and thank you and help you fill back up with our love and support.
Wherever we are on the continuum of self-emptying and refilling along Christ’s
way, we need to remember that it is God who calls us to be prophets and shepherds, and
then the same God enfolds us in merciful arms and gives us rest when we need it. We
should remember that God’s power will restore us. God’s power will wipe away our
tears and fill our mouth with laughter, as the Psalm says, and those who go out weeping,
bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
Let us rejoice, because God will raise up shepherds among us, and then when they are
tired, God will fold those shepherds back into the flock and lead them to green pastures
and still waters and raise up new shepherds to take their place until they are ready to
lead again.
Let us pray in silence, asking God to help us discern whether this is our time to
rest or to serve, and if it is to serve, let us ask the Holy Spirit to guide and empower us in
our loving service. Let us pray…
Sermon 07/19/2009