A Human Condition (Reformation C-2019_

The worship book is a rich resource. Not only does it provide a form of prayer and hymns through which we worship God, it gives a daily scripture reading plan, and teaches, including Luther’s Small Catechism. The book in it’s prayers, hymns, and extras expresses a Lutheran theological perspective; a perspective that speaks to the scripture texts read on Reformation Sunday.
Truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. ... if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.  The truth will make you free. This passage from the Gospel of John sums up today’s take away. It is the same take away present each week in the liturgy.
In the worship book, pg 94 right column, the prayer of confession that we have been using prays; we have turned from you (you being God) and given ourselves into the power of sin. The alternative prayer in the left column, has us pray; we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. For those of us who are regular worshipers we have said these words hundreds of times; at Bible Study the participants recollected them from memory. These words are part of our DNA, we know them by heart.
A gentleman in the New Denmark parish, explained the confession and church to me this way. On Sunday morning we come to church with a used suitcase. During the confession we open the suitcase and dump the contents – the dirty shirts, socks, and underwear from a week of being on the road as a travelling sales person. We come with empty toothpaste tubes and spent soap, missing socks, and an unorganized mess. Once the suitcase is dumped before God – and is completely empty, then one is ready for church. As one journeys through the service, one picks up Good News, clothes that are neatly paired, folded and pressed, and places them in the suitcase.  One packs helpful scripture, ideas to wrestle with, love from the community, hope, forgiveness, joy, and a sense of belonging. God takes a look and fills up the rest of the suitcase with additional items -grace- that we might need for another week on the road.  With God’s strength, God closes the overflowing suitcase. We leave church with a clean suitcase, stocked full, to go and share the contents with the world. As we live our week, once again the suitcase ends up in disarray. There is no way to stop it from becoming so.  The next Sunday we once again bring the suitcase to dump and be refilled.
This little parable tells us how sin works- we are captive to sin, it puts our lives in disarray, and empties our hearts; making us weary and weathered. Reading from the book of Romans we learn a number of things: through law comes the knowledge of sin. We understand this, the Law in a form of rules like the Ten Commandments help us to gage how we are living, how much sin we commit, how messy the suitcase is.  Romans goes on to explain that sin is sin, meaning sins are not ranked by lesser or greater, venial or mortal. With human beings, Paul writes: There is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. Also attached to Paul’s description and understanding of sin is a promise -the Good News that refills our empty suitcases; They are now justified by God’s grace as a gift (through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus).  We hear this Good News every week in the absolution that follows confession, where the pastor says: in the name of Jesus Christ, your sins are forgiven.
Again later on, to drive the Good News home, such promise is reiterated in the communion liturgy found on pg 108 in the grey coloured box, this blood was shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sin. Take note that there is  no ending ‘s’ on sin.  The word is not pointing to you directly in the sense of your sins, but, collectively has made no distinction between people; all sin and fall short.  Jesus’ blood is offered – redemption- for all people for the forgiveness of sin.  Sin – a collective- within the human condition.
As part of confirmation class, each student is given a copy of the catechism, just as many of us were given catechism to learn for confirmation. Some of us have misplaced them or our dogs have eaten them, the worship book creators have our backs, they made it available to you in the back of the worship book. I invite you to turn to pg1160, where you will find the 10 Commandments. As the Catechism teaches about the Ten Commandments, one takes an eye opening journey -well a heart opening journey- in what sin is. We could talk through each one as an example, but, this morning we will look at 2.  Let us turn our attention to the fifth; You shall not murder.  Spoken in this straightforward way, I am guessing that most of us will say that we have kept commandment number five.  We have not murdered, in the sense of killing another human being.
I recently finished a non-fiction book that tells the tale of the sinking of the whaling ship, Essex; sunk by two blows to the hull from a sperm whales’ nose and large jaw. The tale of the Essex is the tale that inspired countless poems and the novel Moby Dick. As the large transport ship went down, the crew cut loose three smaller whaling boats, loaded them with as many provisions as possible, jumped on board, and set sail for a 3000km ride across the Southern Pacific ocean to the western shore of South America.  The voyage took three months in an open boat, with the whalers continually at the mercy of the weather and the seas.  The men rationed the food and water aboard; it didn’t take long for the men to become weak, thirsty. Due to dehydration and malnutrition, some turned delirious, sick, and sunburned. Provisions ran exceedingly low and so did morale and hope. People started to die. To survive the crews had to eat the remains of those who had died in their boats. In one boat the decision to eat each other was tricky – no one had died. The decision was made to draw lots on who would be killed to feed and save the rest; a lot was drawn to see who would do the killing. The sound of the tale is too extraordinary, too foreign, for us to understand the desperation of starving men, stuck in a boat on the open seas. In such a situation, what is sin?  What does it mean, you shall not kill? Perhaps this circumstance illustrates that sin is not so easily defined, that there is more to the Law than a simple rule.
For this, I appreciate that the hymn book includes Martin Luther’s catechism and his reflection on what each commandment means – Luther’s writing is quite clear that all fall short of the glory of God, by each of us not keeping any of the commandments. Correct, he would tell you that you most definitely have committed murder. Hopefully the circumstances were not as dire as starving to death in a whaling boat, more often, our circumstances reflect the things we have left undone; sins of omission. On pg 1160
Luther explains: You shall not kill. What does this mean?  We are to fear and love God, so that we neither endanger nor harm the lives of our neighbours, but instead help and support them in all of life’s needs. X2
Being captive to sin means that within our relationships there is always room for improvement. We can increasingly take steps to help and support one another in all of life’s needs. This is a never ending concern.
For a second example, on the next page, look at commandment seven. It reads: You shall not steal.
Fleshing out the meaning Luther explains: What does this mean?  We are to fear and love God, so that we neither take our neighbours’ money or property nor acquire them by using shoddy merchandise or crooked deals, but instead help them to improve and protect their property and income. Just as in murder, stealing is part of the human condition. Similarly to commandment five, I suspect that often we break it via omission, not helping others to improve and protect their property and income. Once again this is a never ending concern.
The words of weekly confession are working on us, so that we take to heart that sin is:
Known and unknown, things we have done and things we have failed to do  and stated in the other prayer option, we have sinned against you in thought word and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone.
Sin is imbedded in human condition – and is corporate as much as it is individual. We all sin, as much in inaction as by our actions. In acknowledging the depth of the words and thoughts in confession, in accepting that we are in sin, allows us to turn and hear the truth.
The truth will make you free. The truth is there is no distinction, all sin and fall short of the glory of God. ...and... Justification comes thanks to God’s grace and it is a gift. Justification comes thanks to God’s grace and it is a gift!
Theologian Frederick Buechner wrote: theology is reasoned, systematic, orderly whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises...Faith is less a position on than a movement toward.”  X2 This quote reminds me of the suitcase.  It reminds us that we are continually reforming, continually moving toward a freedom from the bondage of sin -moving toward a wholeness of relationship with God, people, and creation. 
Joshua is confirming his faith this morning. He has learned the catechism. He has talked about sin. He has wrestled with scripture and learned important texts. He has learned the Good News; he has talked about grace. Just as most of us have at one time or another in our church lives. The message for you Joshua, for all of us is that through life you will find that faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises.  Accept this.  See faith not as something you receive today in the laying on of hands, but, rather, as a movement, a life-long journey to living into the promises you make today; promises that direct your attention to living a life of faithful relationship; relationships that move us farther from captivity to sin and move us towards God relationships.
Hold on to the promise of God:
From the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; ... I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.
This comes thanks to God’s grace. It is a gift.

A Place for Tears and Difficult Texts

Pent 17C-2019

Be prepared for something that is not stereotypical, modern, Protestant, or dry-eyed. Be prepared to be overcome.
The first time I experienced such a spectacle in Canada, I was a Vicar in Sault Ste. Marie, ON. I was with a family in the city cemetery concluding a burial, when a group of women dressed in black, heads covered, scurried by to a grave not so far away. The women huddled together and began murmuring.  As we departed, the women, speaking Italian, grew louder and louder, lamenting, crying, wailing; as one they moved in agitation and angst. Later, I learned that the women were professional mourners, attending to their practice for days or weeks following a funeral.  The practice of the community was to wail for the dead, to give voice to the grief of the family, and to articulate the loss for the whole community. Although outside of anything I had witnessed, and strange as I thought it might have been at the time; the dedication of the women and their freedom to openly express deep emotion has stayed with me.  I now appreciate and see value in the practice.
A couple of years ago the New York Times interviewed anthropologist James Wilce about his research study on lamentation.  He noted that lamentation, wailing, and other corporate dramatic expressions of grief and sadness are disappearing out of people’s practice. Many of us never experience graveside wailers, in fact many of us try really hard not to cry at a funeral. Somehow stereotypical, modern, Protestant funerals are quiet dry-eyed affairs, where we try so hard to be stoic, show a stiff upper lip, be so-called strong for our families. Wilce believes we are losing an important way to express human sadness and grief. Wilce found a group of people, the Karelians – a people of Northern Finland, who to this day, teach workshops on lamenting.  The lamenting practice is taken outside just funeral practices and is used to address a diversity of emotional hardship including illness, divorce, relocation, reconciliation.
 The workshops teach that short phrases, descending melodies, and the alliteration of words help the human spirit to process sadness and grief. Vocal expressions of unpolished words interrupted by sobs connect one to the rawness of their own emotions and connect them to the larger community. Wilce wrote the phrase I began the sermon with, to describe how he experienced the Karelian workshop, where he worked through the grief of his sister’s death from years before.  He wrote: “Be prepared for something that is not stereotypical, modern, Protestant or dry-eyed. Be prepared to be overcome.”
Today is a break from nine weeks of scripture from Jeremiah. It is one of the only times we turn to the book of Lamentations to hear the word of the Lord. Although not likely written by Jeremiah, it is in the time that follows his prophecy where the people are returning to exile. Lamentations and  Psalm 137, chanted earlier, go hand in hand. Both are songs written around 586 BCE by the waters of Babylon.  This means that the people of Israel are in exile in an alien land, dispersed, taken there by the Edomites and the Babylonians.  From the songs, listeners rightly gather that the Temple, Zion, has been destroyed and lays in ruin. The songs are laments, wailings, sung to express the grief and sadness of the people living by unknown waters.
The five poems in Lamentations are in the qina metre, a specific form of poetry that has a rhythm when read.  It sounds like a dirge; in fact the Hebrew word qina can be translated lamentation or dirge.  The function of a dirge is to express and try to come to terms with grief. And what grief the people are experiencing. In verse 2 and 3 of Psalm 137, the people’s dirge conveys that their captors are taunting them to sing, to sing one of their happy songs of thanksgiving or praise, of celebration in the glory of the Temple that once was; their hearts and spirits are so devoid of such song, they sing unaccompanied as harps have been hung in the trees, not used.
Through the centuries Psalms have continued to be part of our practice, sung in simple chant, to allow the words to filter through us and express emotions we might not even realize we are holding. Psalm 137 is read in synagogues in ordinary liturgy, particularly at times when the Roman destruction of the temple in 70 CE is remembered.  Psalms continue to be an active practice – not yet lost – and so important because exile, emotions of sadness and grief are very real and present; despite our denial and attempts at stoicism.
Over the years, some communities have dropped the Psalm from their Sunday morning services, suggesting that they are outdated, use words and thoughts not held by a modern world, and in fact say some passages are plain inappropriate.  An example is verse 9, the ending of the Psalm of the day; happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock.
 But in our context, the passage is real: in Jedwabne, Poland, in 1941, 1600 Jews were killed – men’s beards were caught on fire, babies were killed in mothers’ arms. Before death people were dashed and beaten, then forced to sing and dance, before being corralled into a barn that was set on fire by non-Jewish townspeople.
And yes, we experience exile in so many ways: bemoaning our situation and thinking or articulating thoughts of revenge. Exile is experienced by the divorced who live away from family or a family home; the unemployed are in exile of being without a job; there are those in exile by leaving home because of deteriorating health or leaving for school or for a job in another place; exile is experienced because of no affordable housing, environmental devastation, or war. And how often in such cases do we demonize and wish harm (in word, not in actuality) on those we deem responsible for casting us into exile – the corporate giant who downsized, the spouse who for whatever reason was intolerable to live with, the government for not providing services.
Psalms like 137, and the poems of Lamentations remind us of the need to articulate sadness and grief.
Without cries of anguish and vengeance human beings are incapable of dealing with the experience of violence. Let me repeat that: without cries of anguish and vengeance human beings are incapable of dealing with the experience of violence. Repressed emotions from perpetrated violence are played out in future generations. We experience this today: anger, depression, pain, mass shootings, bombs in public places, road rage, substance abuse...
In an article in Christianity Today,  author David Stowe includes work by Croatian-born theologian Miroslav Volf, where he says that: “Psalm 137 gives voice to violent emotions, so as to diffuse the impulse toward violent actions: by placing unattended rage before God we place both our unjust enemy and our own vengeful self face to face with a God who loves and does justice.” Psalm 137 is a reminder that “everyone is potentially Judean, potentially Babylonian; potentially a victim, potentially a perpetrator.”
Psalm 137 and Lamentations 1 are community dirges. This is part of the Good News for today. Exile is not an alone affair. In Sault Ste. Marie, it was not one wailer who went to the cemetery, it was a group of women. In community there is freedom, support, healing, a movement from grief to a place of hope and new life. Wailing and lamentation is rage directed to God, where we place the enemy and ourselves side by side, and God faces back with love and justice.
Laments also have function as a corporate confession. Note in verse 5 of the Lamentations’ poem, the song includes a phrase the multitude of her transgressions, in other words, the peoples’ sin; verse 6 of the Psalm refers to forgetting God and turning from the ways of the covenant, the joy to be found in the practice of offering and giving in pilgrimage practice. For a brief second an acknowledge of being part of the cause of destruction and exile is spoken. People articulate the pain of being a part of the ‘why’ people are faced with disasters and experiences of exile. As Volf explains, in real time, we are potentially Judean, Babylonian; victim, perpetrator.  Such expression allows for the possibility, that bewailing human condition, we might come out of grief and sadness, to turn and rise from the ashes.  Corporate lamentation holds that the community has a role and responsibility to turn from disaster and set a new course. Together may we never be stoic, stiff upper lipped, or afraid to express the depths of sadness and grief within. As individuals, as a church, as citizens in a troubled world let us acknowledge that there is a lot to grieve; loss is real and present. As a community let us be free, supportive, healing – professional wailers, raging at a God who looks back at humanity with love and justice- and come away as transformers of grief to a place of hope and new life.

Be prepared -or better yet, unprepared but open- for something that is not stereotypical, modern, Protestant, or dry-eyed.  Be prepared to be overcome.