Since I am well into my second year in seminary, I thought it might be prudent to take a few practice runs, writing weekly sermons while school is not in session. This one is based on the lectionary readings from week fourteen after Pentecost in the season of the liturgical calendar called "Ordinary Time." Which incidentally, I think is kind of funny. It's like the Holy Spirit whooshes in, and then things just go back to normal. Really? Also, what wouldn't we all do for a little bit of ordinary time? That is rhetorical. Can I get an amen?
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“But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.”
~~ Hebrews 11
How do you stay hopeful when there is so much despair? That is not a rhetorical question.
I am dead serious. This week the news brought us even more of it. Homeless refugees in Washington, D.C. So many of them are families with children. We saw the administrative insufficiency, which left these families in hotel rooms rather than temporary housing that would assure the children get properly enrolled in schools. It’s difficult to watch. Most of us would gladly help if we only knew how.
Children are the innocent victims in these cases. As adults in a civilized society, we are responsible for our children.
A friend shared with me this week a heartbreaking story of one child. This young person originally came from a home with two parents. That’s usually a good thing, but these parents were, very sadly, as happens all too often, addicted to drugs. Their addiction eventually took the parents’ lives and left the child, at only eight years old, to live on the streets of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, begging for food wherever he could get it. Life was rough on the streets, as one might imagine. He was shot twice but thankfully survived. An aunt in Maryland offered to take him in. He was able to get an education and became involved in sports, finding a love of lacrosse. He excelled in the sport, and when his aunt, who suffered from mental health issues, became an unsuitable guardian, his coaches and his lacrosse family took the boy in. He graduated high school and entered college with a scholarship. The young man kept his grades up and played lacrosse until an injury sidelined him permanently. He lost his scholarship. Although he had a job working at a landscaping company, his earnings were not enough to cover room and board at his university. With just one year left to graduate, this young man is again facing potential homelessness.
How does anyone muster the courage to hope for a better life with such a traumatic history?
(See: Genesis 15:1-6)
In a vision, Abram, very much a senior citizen, asked God, “What will you give me.” In this very specific and imaginative vision, God promises Abram that his descendants will outnumber even the stars. If you’ve been following the Webb telescope, you know that we are finding a lot more of them than we originally imagined! Wow, that’s quite a lot of kids, Abram. Are you sure you want that responsibility? (As you might recall, Abram and his wife Sarai both got new names when they came into their spiritual maturity. Abram became Abraham and Sarai, Sarah. This happens in other places in the Hebrew Bible when there is a radical change of character, such as Jacob becoming Israel. You might investigate the meaning of these names for yourself.)
Abram’s vision of a promise is just the beginning of quite an interesting journey – you can read about it in Genesis. It is ultimately a journey that will mature him and grow him up into Abraham, the father of the world's three major monotheistic religions. Talk about a legacy!
(See: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16)
In Hebrews 11, we read about the kind of faith that ensures that unseen things will eventually pan out into something good because of this promise of the good that comes from God. We read in this letter that Abe was faithful and stayed in that “foreign land” in tents looking forward to the promise of some permanent housing - something with a more solid foundation laid by God. As Abraham and Sarah’s descendants were born (“as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore”), one by one, a promise from a long-ago vision was fulfilled. It didn’t happen overnight. But it did eventually happen. That audacious and precious hope of a promise fulfilled has been passed down to us, whether we are consciously aware of it or not.
There is something really incredible about this vision that we get in the story of Genesis. It starts with a pretty bold question. “What will you give me?” Abram is all up in God’s grill, unabashedly asking for a special favor. He’s like, “Here I am. What is this all about anyway? I am an old man, and I have nothing, no heirs to speak of. You made me. What have you got to say about that, God?” That’s a pretty audacious way to speak to the Creator of the Cosmos. And you’ve got to admit, kind of creative too.
Have you ever thought of asking God a similar question? What do you imagine God would say to you in response?
(See: Luke 12:32-40)
Perhaps you might hear something comforting like Jesus’ words in Luke's Gospel. “Do not be afraid little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Wouldn’t that be nice? The kingdom would be good. Wouldn’t that be particularly nice for that young college student - to be able to finish school without the added stress of homelessness? Wouldn’t it be nice for those children in D.C. to be able to start school in the Fall with the stability of a home? To address these challenges, we need to do our best to be alert, as Jesus suggests. When we are alert, we are vigilant, quick to perceive and act; or so it says in the dictionary.
These problems of homelessness did not happen overnight. They were a long time in the making. They started with choices made by people in our past whose decisions were ultimately not in the best interest of their children. It’s a difficult road to maturity, and sometimes we just plain screw up. When we’re feeling vulnerable, we often place the blame on others, our parents, our government, and even God. If we wanted to, we could go so far as to blame it on Abraham, who had some pretty serious family dysfunction of his own. But blame doesn’t heal. Only love heals the really deep wounds.
The friend who shared with me the story of the boy has decided to take him into her own home so that he has a stable place to complete his studies. My friend is a single parent on a limited budget with three kids of her own, two of which are also currently in college. That right there is love. She's putting her treasure where her heart is and contributing to a more just and loving society while she's at it. She could probably use some additional funds. If you feel called to help monetarily, I am happy to put you in touch.
To solve some of our seemingly intractable problems, maybe we need to ask more audacious questions of God and, while we’re at it, one another. Perhaps instead of endless blaming and tearing each other down, together, we could envision a more abundant future for all of God’s children. If, instead of asking what's in it for us, we flip it to ask perhaps the more spiritually mature question, "What can we give?" will we be alert enough to catch the answer?
Perhaps our hope is in our creative capacity to envision a healthier world. A better country can be built with a more heavenly imagination.
This is how a human being can change:
there's a worm addicted to eating
grape leaves.
Suddenly, he wakes up,
call it grace, whatever, something
wakes him, and he's no longer
a worm.
He's the entire vineyard,
and the orchard too, the fruit, the trunks,
a growing wisdom and joy
that doesn't need
to devour.
— Jelaluddin Rumi in The Essential Rumi
Spiritual Practice: Celebrate a moment when you saw the world with fresh eyes.
~~From Spirituality and Practice
