Scripture: Psalm 130 & II Corinthians 4:13-5:1
Given on 06/10/2018
St. Francis of Assisi, the venerated saint of the Catholic Church and patron of animals and the environment, lived in Italy in the middle of the 13th century. Growing up as the son of a wealthy silk merchant, Francis enjoyed a high-spirited life of plenty. As he entered adulthood, he joined the military of Assisi in their campaign against Perugia and then reenlisted for service in the army of the count of Brienne before having a vision from God that convinced him that military service was not his true calling and instead, he was to serve the church. This service took many forms, from rebuilding old churches that had fallen into disrepair to founding three orders of monks and nuns and living the life of an ascetic. Perhaps most famously, we think about his care and concern for all God's creatures--a familial relationship with all parts of creation, brother bird, sister wolf, brother sun, sister moon. Indeed, throughout the history of the church it is hard to imagine a more beloved saint within the whole tradition. Francis, believed that the work of the gospel, the work of Christ, was an all-encompassing endeavor. That thing that one gladly gives their whole lives to in service. Francis's faithful life was simple though never particularly easy and on more than one occasion he had to declare his allegiance to God with the threat of true violence hanging over his head and over time, his family had abandoned him, his wealthy friends didn't want to associate with a person who had taken a vow of poverty, and at one point he found himself in the presence of the Sultan of Egypt, the most powerful man in the Islamic world, in an effort to convert him to Christianity and bring to an end the Crusades that had decimated both empires for hundreds of years. So powerful was the witness of Francis of Assisi to the love of God for the least of these in his midst that the current occupant of the Papal seat, Pope Francis, took Assisi's name as a means of honoring the beloved saint. I've thought a lot about Francis of Assisi this week as I've pondered these two scripture passages for the week and considered what it meant in our current world to declare one's allegiance to God. I finally arrived at this quote attributed to Francis that you no doubt have heard, "Preach the gospel at all times, and, when necessary, use words."
In our scriptures for this morning, we encounter two different ways in which to affirm our commitment to the service of God, to the worship of God, to our faith in God. In the Psalm, the writer extols the virtue of God for any and all to hear. Writing following an experience of the Divine in his life, the psalmist declares that he cried out to God and that God heard him and responded and increased the strength of his soul. Prayer of this kind rarely needs to use words. Prayer of this kind is the one on the street corner, homeless and desperate to find something to eat for her family crying out in desperation. Prayer of this kind is the one sitting by the bed of her baby hoping that the medical tests offer a good outcome for her daughter. Prayer may simply be the sound of the older person, wise in his years, humming "Blessed Assurance Jesus is Mine," while sweeping the kitchen floor after a long day. Those kind of prayers that arise from states of desperation, of fear, of contentment don't need to be spoken out loud while sitting in a sanctuary, they don't need to be fully formed thoughts, they can be as simple as one's own breath coming to God in need, coming to God in trepidation, coming to God in thanks. And when we feel the presence of God, reaching through the lightyears of space and time to touch our soul's at their very core, we often take our place with the psalmist singing, "I give you thanks, O God, and shout your name above everything else in the world. I bow down before you in awe of your amazing love and presence and exalt your name in all the earth." And in language echoing the beloved 23rd psalm, the writer tells us that though he walks in the midst of trouble, in the midst of his enemies, God's love, God's steadfast love, forever holds him up and gives him strength for the journey at hand. God's love endures forever.
The second scripture of the morning offers the opposite experience of God from the church in Corinth. This church, this community of the faithful is holding on the promises of God as found in their experience of Jesus Christ as a mountain climber holds on to the side of the mountain with whatever strength she has in the tips of her fingers. "We do not lose heart," Paul says to the church, "we do not lose heart because even though we know that our outer nature, our physical form is wasting away, we believe that our inner nature is daily renewed in the faith." Thus, these afflictions that we are experiencing, and it is believed that Paul composed much of the letter either while in prison or after having left prison, these afflictions are only momentary and portend an "eternal weight of glory beyond all measure." Thus, Paul commends the community of the faithful in Corinth to remain committed to the faith no matter what happens because even though everything in all of creation may eventually fall away, God's love, the eternal love of God remains holding all people and all creation in a great web of love, a web that forever grounds each person in every time and place. Paul, like the psalmist before him, like Saint Francis, can stand in the presence of all people, rulers and paupers alike and declare a faith in God that no imprisonment, no beatings, no exile can ever diminish. Paul, the psalmist, Francis: each stand as a living testimony to the steadfast faithfulness of God in all times and places and each invite everyone they encounter to join them in their faith journey too. And, at times, they use words.
I've been blessed in my life to have had several people who have displayed a commitment to God, an allegiance to God in their daily walks, rarely if ever actually using words in the process. When I was growing up, at my home church, a man named JC Carr was that person. Now, JC was an older gentleman when I was a kid so it came with some surprise when my father told me that he had died while I was away in grad school. JC took on all the jobs at the church that required that you be there long before the service actually started and remain until the last person had left the building. He had a set of keys, and my home church, because it was over a century old, and built over the course of many eras had about 30 keys for everywhere in the building, but JC had the complete set that he would carry with him everyday and would methodically walk through the building each Sunday unlocking every door of the place. He would start the coffee, a task that is an essential part of every church community, and he would stand in the narthex each week greeting folks as they came in handing out bulletins or as he called them "tickets." For decades he would greet each preacher right before walking into the sanctuary with the same words. "Pastor, if you can't think of anything else to preach about, preach about sin." So beloved was JC Carr that when he did finally succumb to the earthly limits of the body, a picture of him with a plaque denoting his years of service to the church was placed in the narthex, with his keyring hanging down under the picture.
In my first church, we had a similar person, a man named Dorman Frazier who served in much the same capacity as JC Carr. Dorman's service to Christ extended well beyond the confines of our little church in rural Missouri. Because, yes, he did unlock the doors and brew the coffee but more than that, he was a smiling face throughout all of the town—a face not just representing the church, but the face of Christ to everyone he encoutnered. He was generous with his time, his talent, and his resources though he was not a person of great means. When I first got to the church, he invited me to his house a few blocks down from my office where he showed me the most amazing vegetable garden I had ever seen within the bounds of a town. Rows and rows of squash and zucchini, broccoli and carrots, field peas, corn, and peppers. As we walked through Dorman, knowing I was a vegetarian, asked me what kind of vegetables I liked the best, and when I replied, "pretty much all of them," he began to fill up bags and bags with the choicest portion of his garden and from that moment forward, about once a week, my wife, Lesley, would go through our front door to delightfully discover a new shipment had been dropped off. Never a knock at the door, never a desire for recognition. Just a man who wanted to use the talents that he possessed to spread the gospel, rarely using words.
The past week has brought news of two high profile persons who died by self-inflicted means and while I loved Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown on CNN and Lesley loves her Kate Spade handbag that she received as a present from my father on the occasion of her graduation from her doctoral program this is not why we must talk about these matters on this morning. The reason that we must incorporate the events of the week with the word of God spoken from this place is because, statistically speaking, we should all anticipate a dramatic increase in the number of persons who attempt and successfully complete suicide. Even before the current attention drawn by Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, earlier in the week, a report was released saying the number of suicide attempts in the United States is at an all-time high and as a church, we would be falling woefully short of our mission to proclaim the gospel to every corner of the world if we did not overtly reach out to all those within the hearing of our collective voices to say once again that there are those who care, that each person, simply by being born, is the beloved of God, that Christ dwells in each person and here at this place we try to be a shelter from the storms of life so that those who are struggling, those who need to see light, those who need to know that someone cares, might find just a brief respite. Maybe they can experience a singular moment of rest and sabbath from the barrage of voices that speak negative thoughts, the desperate feelings of inadequacy and failure, the suffocating feeling of despair. Because that is how redemption often comes, in the stillness, in the quiet, in the security of being in a place in which you are loved and cared for. In the era in which we live, mental health has become something of a buzzword a place to rest all the pains of our society that allow us to make it someone else’s problem. And while we have gained in knowledge of how our minds work, while we have made dramatic improvements in medicine, in therapeutic strategies, mental health remains a subject that is rarely spoken of in the light of the day and almost never brought up in a healing manner. The stigma that follows around those who are brave enough to disclose their struggles, to open up their brains, and in many ways their souls to the slings and arrows of our society, is often a burden in and of itself too great for any one person to bear. We as a society must figure out a better way to consider those who mentally struggle to face the day and as with virtually everything, the church must take it on as its calling to lead the way into that new future. A future in which all of God’s children know their worth, simply because they are God’s children. A future in which we open our doors to the wounded, the depressed, the one who doesn’t know where else to turn. We must openly embrace those who difference is perceived as deficiency. We must fight for systemic change in which resources are better allocated to address this growing need. And we must seek to be a beacon of the light of Christ wherever there is darkness and love must always, always, always be our guiding force. In every time and place we are called to reach out and address the needs of the “least of these” in our midst and no one can find themselves any lower than seeing no point to their continued existence. We have to do better for those who struggle with their minds, as a people, as a church, as a nation, as a species, as a planet. We have to rededicate ourselves to that mission today and everyday remembering that each time we gather in this place we renew our faith in God in word and deed. We sing praises to God, lift up prayers to God, and most importantly, we renew our commitment to the work of God in the world. To clothe the naked and feed the hungry, to give sight to the blind and release to the captives, those who are captives in unjust societies and those who are captives of their minds and bodies. To declare the year of God’s favor for all people until that day when all the children of God are called home. May we be uplifted at this time by the memories of those who have come before us, who showed us the way, and who are depending on us to pick up the torch and to light the way for those who will come after us. Who among us will bear the redemption of Christ to a world in pain? Who among us? Glory be to God in the highest and on earth peace amongst all God's peoples. Alleluia, amen.