Third Sunday after the Epiphany (C), January 24, 2016; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

O God of joy, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

This morning I want to begin by extending my own welcome to Bill Cruse, newly ordained priest, and I extend the congratulations and blessing from the Bishop of Massachusetts. And welcome to Kevin Neel, recently arrived from the west balcony! It’s always great to be in the same zip code as both of you! Thanks to Julian Bullitt who put in a huge amount of volunteer time this past week to work out wiring issues for the organ.

I want to do a deep dive into our lesson from Nehemiah this morning – as an installment of my lifelong Biblical literacy project! If I were play a searching game with you (Topfschlagen in German) and ask you to find the container or the organizing event for the Hebrew Bible, or what Christians might call the First Testament, perhaps some of you would say the creation story and I’d ask, “which one?” because there are two in Genesis. You might say, “the Call of Abraham.” I’d say “cold.” You might say “The Exodus,” and I’d say, “you’re getting warmer.” You might say, “the giving of Torah to Moses at Sinai.” “Warmer.” You might say “King David and the building of a House for God in Jerusalem” – “warmer still.” You might say, “I give up!” and I’d say, “look at the last book of a Jewish Bible.” The last book of a Jewish Bible, called The Tanakh – which is an acronym for Torah (law), Nevi’im (prophets), and Kethuvim (writings) – anyone know what it is? The last book of the Tanakh is 2 Chronicles. That is not the last book of the First Testament in Christian Bibles. Anyone know what that is? The prophet Malachi has the last word in Christian Bibles. In Jewish Bibles, the Chronicler has the last word. The Chronicles are about the Babylonian Exile (6^th century, BCE), which lasted seventy terrible years, and was the catalyst for writing and editing of Holy Scripture, and the lens through which all of the Hebrew Bible can be interpreted. The Babylonian Exile is the container, hidden in plain sight. [1]

Second Chronicles ends with a description of the desecration of the House of God and destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians: They burned the House of God and tore down the wall of Jerusalem, burned down all its mansions and consigned all its precious objects to destruction. Those who survived the sword were exiled to Babylon and they became servants until the rise of the Persian kingdom in fulfillment of the word of the Lord, spoken by Jeremiah, until the land paid back its Sabbaths; as long as it lay desolate it kept Sabbath, till seventy years were completed. And in the first year of King Cyrus of Persia, when the word of the Lord spoken to Jeremiah was fulfilled, the Lord roused the spirit of King Cyrus to issue a proclamation through his realm by word of mouth and in writing, as follows: Thus said King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord God of Heaven has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and has charged me with building Him a House in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Any one of you of all His people, the Lord his God be with him and let him go up.”

The books of Ezra and Nehemiah (which were one book in the Tanakh until the 15^th century), placed in the Tanakh before first and second Chronicles, describe what happened after Cyrus’ decree. Ezra and Nehemiah were written in the 4^th century BCE as 5^th century BCE memoirs of Ezra, a priest and scribe, who was charged with the task of religious reformation; and Nehemiah, a chalice bearer for King Artaxerxes I, who becomes governor of Jerusalem. Nehemiah was charged with rebuilding the social and financial infrastructure as well as the actual walls of the crumbling city. Ezra is about the priesthood and the Temple, written for priests. Nehemiah is about and for the laity restoring the wellbeing of the city. The two should not be separated! For literalists, this is about one place at one time. For fundamentalists, this is a prediction of the restoration of one place. For figurativists (is that the opposite of literalist?) and progressives, this is about the possibility of recreating and restoring peace and justice in every city for all people. For Emmanuelites it can be about Boston.

In addition to increasing the Biblical literacy of progressive Episcopalians, I have another lifelong project and it has to do with communal or corporate worship, especially the roles of worship leaders and of the congregation when we gather, and how we experience joy in our common life. [2] That’s the larger reason I want to preach on this passage from Nehemiah this morning, because it’s a story about all the men, women and children coming together as one in worship in the public square at the Jerusalem Water Gate.

The story goes that they were attentive to the book of the law – they were actively listening. What happened next is regrettably omitted from our reading. Verse 4 says that Ezra got up on a platform, made for the purpose, along with thirteen others. He was standing with his lay leadership team: Mattithiah, Shema, Anaiah, Uriah, Hilkiah, and Maaseiah on his right hand; and Pedaiah, Mishael, Malchijah, Hashum, Hash-baddanah, Zechariah, and Meshullam on his left hand. Maybe in our lectionary those names were left out in deference to lay readers everywhere, but the lectionary committee should have more confidence in them. We know that these thirteen were lay leaders because in verse 7, also omitted, is a list of thirteen additional people, described as Levites, in other words, ordained leaders: Jeshua, Bani, Sherebiah, Jamin, Akkub, Shabbethai, Hodiah, another Maaseiah, Kelita, Azariah, Jozabad, Hanan, and Pelaiah.

Ezra opened the book of the law in the sight of all the people, and all the people stood up. This is what people do when the Torah is read in synagogues. This is exactly what happened this morning when Suzanne read the Gospel. (Do you know that our cognitive processing is greatly enhanced by standing?) Then Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God, and all the people answered, “Amen, Amen.” lifting up their hands. Bill Cruse told me a story the other day about a Diocese of New Hampshire convention a few years ago at which there was a presentation by Kids for Peace. One of the kids told a story about how when he was young, he always thought people were saying, “I’m in” when they said “Amen.” I’m in. I’m in. I actually think that’s what it means to say the ancient Hebrew word “Amen”

Then they bowed their heads and worshiped the Lord with their faces toward the ground. Our scripture says that the leadership team read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the congregation understood the reading, so that the people went from showing up and listening to comprehending and responding. Let’s not miss the idea that the scripture has always been challenging to understand and that Ezra the priest had a very large leadership team of both lay and ordained people! And then the lay and ordained leaders said to the people, “’This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep’ For all the people wept when they listened to the words of the Teaching.” We know that they were not weeping tears of joy because verses eleven and twelve say, “The Levites were quieting the people saying, ‘hush, for the day is holy, do not be sad. Then all the people went to eat and drink and send portions and make great merriment, for they understood the things they were told.” Perhaps the people were mourning the gap between how it was with them and how they wanted it to be, the gap between God’s promises and their experiences. Perhaps they were feeling overwhelmed with sorrow for their own sins and the sins of others.

My colleague, John Stendahl writes, the people were “bidden to turn their tears to joy and to eat and drink in one vast and scattered banquet.” [3] They were to celebrate, making sure to offer provisions to anyone who lacked the necessary ingredients for a feast – sending portions for those who had insufficient food and drink, or those who have nothing prepared. That, by the way, is what we are doing when we offer gifts of money in thanksgiving, it’s what we are doing in our Eucharistic celebration this morning when, together, we lift up our hearts – no matter how heavy, and it is what we will be doing when representatives of Emmanuel head over to Arlington Street Church after our worship today to put together 20,000 – yes 20,000 meals this afternoon as part of the Stop Hunger Now project. (And it’s still possible to join us for some or all of the afternoon if you’re interested – we can still use more help.)

What is the reason for the celebration and sharing? It’s because the joy of the Lord is our strength, our place or means of safety, our refuge and our stronghold, according to Nehemiah. It’s because despite the gaps between how it was with us and how we want it to be, the gaps between God’s promises and our experiences, despite feeling overwhelmed with sorrow for our own sins and the sins of others, the Holy One, our Lord, delights in us and that is something to celebrate. That is news that can make us more brave and more generous. Theologian Daniel Clendenin calls this a subversive act of joy. He quotes the great English mystic, Julian of Norwich who wrote, “The greatest honor we can give Almighty God,…is to live gladly because of the knowledge of [God’s] love.” Clendenin adds, “No matter how bleak the tragic course of history, how unnerving our personal circumstances, or how pessimistic the forecasts of cultural historians, with joy we can expect [God’s] love to blossom even in the dust and dirt of our lives.” [4] May it be so. I’m in. Are you?

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